13. Lane
THIRTEEN
LANE
Lane felt Rowan shudder beneath him, his lips sealed around the cut on Rowan’s neck. He wanted to linger, but unease at Rowan’s returned hunger kept him from getting lost in the moment.
He kissed the hollow of Rowan’s throat. “Did that help?”
Rowan’s hand tangled in Lane’s hair. “Yes. Not with my hunger, but…”
Lane waited. No further explanation came as the cut healed. Lane kissed the smooth skin and moved on. “Let’s get more comfortable.”
He dressed quickly and pulled Rowan over to the couch. He seemed happy to continue following Lane’s lead for now, so Lane pulled Rowan against him, settling Rowan’s head on his chest, and held him.
Rowan melted against him, along with all the tension in his body. Lane couldn’t say how long they sat in each other’s arms. Rowan’s willingness to linger in the moment was a pleasant surprise.
Maybe it was easier for Rowan to accept comfort and non-sexual touch after they’d gotten off, or perhaps he was more comfortable with Lane than he’d been that morning.
Lane didn’t need to know which, if either, was the case.
He didn’t need to talk about this, at least not now.
He was content to bask in Rowan, to hold him and let the day slip by.
The spell of comfort was broken by a loud buzzing from the vicinity of the desk.
“My phone.” Rowan picked himself up, ran a hand through his tousled hair, and adjusted his cuffs—melding into the vampire leader everyone knew—before retrieving the device. He frowned at the screen. “Nicole wants to see us immediately.”
“Did she say why?”
“No, but I can’t imagine it’s anything other than the curse. She and Vera want us in the clinic. Maybe they’ve worked out a counter.”
Lane hoped so, even as questions about what would happen next swirled around in his mind.
They headed to the clinic without another word. Were Rowan’s thoughts drifting in a similar direction? His impassive nature was in full force now that their intimate interlude was over, and there was no way to know without asking.
“Vera and I are ready to break the curse,” Nicole said as soon as Lane and Rowan arrived.
“Excellent.” Rowan’s attention fell on Hunter, who stood to one side. “What’s the risk?”
“I’m here as a precaution.” Hunter patted a bag on the counter beside him. “Got my defibrillator just in case.”
Lane’s skin went cold and clammy.
Rowan glared, the soft, well-cared-for air he’d had in Lane’s arms almost hard to imagine. “If there’s a chance of killing Lane, we aren’t doing this.”
“I can’t give you one hundred percent certainty.
” Nicole looked at them with a hint of pleading.
“I wish I could, but there’s no getting around how deadly this curse is.
The counterspell we’ve created to halt the leaching magic should break its hold over you both simultaneously, meaning Lane should be fine. But there will always be a risk.”
“We need to do something.” Lane earned his own glare from Rowan. “Come on. We can’t stay like this indefinitely. You’re having more trouble each day.”
They couldn’t hold out for guarantees that didn’t exist, even if Rowan’s hunger wasn’t worsening. Being tied together wasn’t sustainable.
“I can deal with trouble,” Rowan grumbled.
“Maybe,” Nicole cut in. “But you can’t stay like this. There’s no reason to think the counterspell will break the link keeping Lane safe. I’m not targeting the connection. You know I’ve done my best. I wouldn’t try if I wasn’t confident the risk was as low as possible.”
Rowan sat heavily on one of the chairs. “I know. I’m sorry, Nicole, I didn’t mean to doubt you.”
“Didn’t think you were. I’m not offended. I’m reassuring you.”
Lane sat beside Rowan, who gripped his hand. The unexpected sweetness almost knocked the wind from Lane. Everyone could see. Didn’t he care?
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Rowan asked. He was in business mode—hard, calculated, and painfully focused—but Lane no longer found his demeanor cold. It gave him strength to have someone so solid by his side.
He nodded, trusting Rowan and this coven to do everything they could, the fear he’d be sacrificed a distant memory. “I’m sure.”
Lane wished it were clear what coming out the other side looked like. Would Rowan want to forget everything they’d shared when Lane wasn’t his permanent shadow? Would he decide distance was preferable after all?
Nicole took hold of Vera’s hand. “Let’s begin.” With a final look shared between them, the two witches began to chant.
Magic washed over Lane in steady waves. His heart thudded, pulse running high with nerves.
Unless it was an effect of the magic? The curse?
His breath hitched. What if this didn’t work?
He might die. He might be stuck with Rowan forever, as a burden and not a choice, forced to watch as his hunger grew more and more unbearable.
Fingers gripped Lane’s chin, and he startled. Rowan guided his face until their eyes met, a mirror image of what Lane had done to him earlier. Rowan didn’t speak, but he didn’t need to. Lane’s chest ached.
Rowan gave comfort far easier than he accepted it, but the fact that he could do both was everything. He let Lane hold him up, then turned around and did the same without hesitation.
The chanting grew louder. Magic flared, and the witches fell abruptly silent.
Lane felt nothing. If he’d been cured, wouldn’t… Pain shot through him, sharp and hot. He screamed, doubling over, but as soon as it began, the pain was gone.
“Lane!” Rowan shouted, his grip on Lane’s hand unfaltering.
“I’m okay.” He straightened.
Rowan released a deep exhale, echoing Lane’s relief. “Thank goodness. I had a jolt of pain, too. What was it?”
“I…I don’t know.” Lane glanced at the witches.
Nicole frowned, and Vera muttered a spell. The women shared a look.
“It didn’t work. The curse is still there,” Vera said.
“What?” Lane clutched his chest. “Why did it hurt? Is the link broken?” It mustn’t be since he wasn’t dying, but something had cracked through Rowan’s protection. What if it happened again?
“The link isn’t broken, I can still sense it. But I’m sure the counterspell was working. Let me check,” Nicole said before silently analyzing Lane and Rowan with her magic.
Vera seemed to have completed her own analysis. “We halted the curse’s feeding cycle, so technically the counterspell worked, but not for long. The parasitic magic restarted, and now it’s as strong as it ever was.”
Nicole scowled. “You’re right. Dammit. I didn’t think the curse could restart after it’d been stopped. How can it be this persistent?”
Vera laid a hand on Nicole’s shoulder. “I don’t know.” She turned to Lane. “The pain must have been the curse taking hold again, before it leveled out between the two of you. I’d say it’s stable now.”
“Then we’re exactly where we were before,” Rowan said with steady authority. “That’s fine. There must be something else we can try.”
“We need more time,” Vera said.
“And a new idea.” Nicole seemed to gather herself. “If the parasite can’t be stopped outright, we’ll have to find another way to unravel the magic.”
Strain appeared around Rowan’s eyes, some of his composure slipping. “My hunger is worse than it was when we walked in. Do you think it’s the curse renewing its hold?”
“Could be, and I don’t like it.” Worry cut lines around Nicole’s downturned mouth. “We’ll get back to work.”
Vera agreed, and the two hurried out.
“How are our blood supplies?” Rowan asked Hunter.
“We’re okay for now, and there’s always the magic community bank. Don’t starve yourself. I have a feeling that’ll make things worse.”
Rowan grumbled his agreement.
Hunter handed him a blood bag and went to organize the stock on hand. As soon as he was gone, Rowan seemed to abandon all pretense, sagging into his chair.
“He’s lurking in my mind again.”
Lane stilled. Rowan was turning to him for support, sharing his troubles unprompted. “Your sire?”
Rowan closed his eyes. “Yes. It keeps happening, but I don’t see why hunger should weaken me this much.”
“You aren’t weak, Rowan.”
“I can’t think of any other reason Cris persists in stealing my attention. I have plenty to be concerned about without fixating on my past.”
“That doesn’t make fixating weak. You’re the strongest person I know.”
Rowan gave him a skeptical look. “Please.”
“I mean it. This is human, Rowan. Give yourself grace.”
His face softened infinitesimally. “I’ll try.”
Lane wanted to rejoice, but settled for a smile. “Glad to hear it.”
Rowan snorted, his lips twitching before settling into a hard line. “I wish I could get Cris out of my head. I don’t believe the lies he used to tell me anymore, and yet they follow me around.”
“What lies?”
He looked away. “Nothing worth mentioning. Insults and drivel.”
“Rowan.”
“Yes, all right,” he snapped, then collected himself. “This isn’t nothing. His abuse follows me around like a cloud, but I should handle it better. I usually do.”
Did he ever talk to anyone about what Cris put him through? Lane had a horrible feeling the answer was no, but he wasn’t here to interrogate Rowan. With so many other stressors, now wasn’t the time for a deep discussion about past trauma.
Hopefully he could be there for Rowan when things settled. For now he said, “I’m sure you’re usually more resilient, but you’re under a lot of stress. You can’t expect yourself to be at one hundred percent.”
“Perhaps, but it feels like more than that.”
“Has anything else changed?”
Rowan’s gaze swept over Lane, his deep brown eyes turning sad.
Wait. Was Lane what had changed? Surely not.
“I don’t know…” Rowan seemed to get lost in his thoughts. He opened the blood bag and had a sip. “I have seen something like this before. Not the curse. There were a few feral attacks when I was with Cris. He used the opportunity to remind me I was lucky he hadn’t turned me into a monster.”
Lane saw red. “He was the fucking monster.”