12. CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER TWELVE
T he journey from the tension-filled inn to the rented chamber on its top floor was a silent march, each step heavy with unspoken words. Rowan’s heart still raced from the confrontation, her skin prickling with the heat of indignation.
Casimir ducked to enter the small room, eyes narrowing momentarily before he turned to face her.
“I’ll take the floor,” he said evenly. “You take the bed.”
“Thank you,” she said through gritted teeth. Crossing her arms, she watched him lay his cloak down on the wooden floor. It was an act of chivalry, but one that did little to warm the chill between them.
As they settled in, the room was filled with the sounds of the night outside and the soft crackle of the dying hearth. Rowan moved to the small wash basin in the corner. She felt Casimir’s eyes on her as she picked up the small piece of soap and a cloth, but she refused to meet his gaze.
The water was cold, yet it did little to extinguish the flame that burned beneath her skin. She slipped behind a flimsy wooden divider to strip down to her shift. After taking off her outerwear, she couldn’t resist peeking through the small gap in the barrier. Casimir had removed his tunic and was at the basin now, his bare back muscles contracting and relaxing as he washed.
She stilled, heat pooling in her lower abdomen at the sight of him. His jet-black hair was tousled from earlier, adding to his already striking appearance, but it was his body that truly caught her attention. She couldn’t help but admire the flex of his powerful arms as he reached up to scrub his face. The candlelight danced off his broad, muscular chest and sculpted abs. His trousers rode low under the sharp V between his hips, making her breath catch.
With a shake of her head, she forced herself to look away, reminding herself of the reason for their earlier argument. Despite her anger, she couldn’t deny the deep desire that simmered inside her. The truth was that Rowan wanted Casimir in a way she had never wanted anyone else before. It was a feeling she couldn’t fully understand or suppress, and the realization hit her with the force of a speeding carriage.
Slipping into bed, she pulled the thin quilts up to her chin. Her longing for him was a pain, an unscratchable itch just beneath her skin. A soft thud signaled that he had settled onto the floor beside the bed. His presence in the room felt like a physical touch, causing her pulse to race.
She stared at the ceiling, revisiting their heated exchange over and over. But with each retelling, it was not his words that burned in her memory—it was his voice. Deep and resonant. It stirred something within her that felt like longing.
Finally, Casimir broke the silence, his words low and infused with an unexpected vulnerability. “I don’t want this misunderstanding to destroy what we have,” he began. “I think it’s time I told you more about my nature. I’ve never spoken about how I became a vampire to anyone. It’s not a tale of honor or nobility, but one of shame and regret.” He lay motionless for a few heartbeats as she absorbed his words. “When I was first turned, I killed mortals. Many of them. Not by choice, but in an overwhelming bloodlust that consumed me—I was like a wild beast without a master to guide its rage.”
Rowan remained silent, listening intently as the shadows danced upon the walls, mirroring the darkness of his confession.
“Being made a vampire is considered a great honor,” he continued, each word seeming to pain him. “A master chooses you and guides you through the change. But me? I woke on a battlefield, amid the dead and dying, alone. No maker. No guide. I was forced to endure the transformation, to understand this cursed existence, without aid.”
His raw honesty tugged at Rowan’s heart, the agony of his past laid bare before her.
“Does that make me a monster in your eyes?” His question was almost a whisper.
“No,” she finally said, her voice barely audible. “It makes you a survivor.”
She hesitated before moving to sit beside him on the floor, their shoulders almost touching .
“Everyone has a past,” she said gently. “I’m grateful that you trusted me enough to share some of yours with me. Despite our argument, I can see the goodness within you, not just the darkness.”
Casimir turned to look at her, his eyes searching hers, likely for traces of revulsion or fear. “I needed you to know.” His voice carried the weight of centuries. “But there’s more I need to tell you.”
A pit formed in her stomach. “About Vivian?”
“Vivian,” he said, his tone full of disdain. “She was never more than a means to an end. I fed from her because it was necessary, nothing more.” His gaze held Rowan’s, unflinching and resolute. “I’ve never been intimate with her. My interest in Vivian is purely transactional. She provides information, and in return, I offer her compensation. That’s the extent of our relationship.”
A bubble of hope rose in Rowan’s chest as relief and confusion battled within her. “Then why does it feel like there’s something more? When you were talking to her, I felt like an inconvenience to you. Like you’d be better off without me.”
Casimir exhaled heavily. “Rowan,” he began, his voice coming out hoarse. “In the past, I’ve been compelled to ensure my own survival at all costs. That’s meant maintaining a distance from everyone.” He gently reached out a hand to cup her cheek. “It’s been centuries since I’ve let anyone get past the barriers I’ve built around myself.”
Rowan desperately wanted to believe his words, but her mind held a flicker of doubt. Underneath her composed exterior, her emotions threatened to overwhelm her.
“I . . .” She looked away from him. “I don’t have anyone else. I’ve just been waiting for the moment when you decide to leave me, and then I’ll be completely alone in this world.”
“That won’t happen,” he assured her, the words filled with conviction.
“Even if I’m a burden?” She kept her gaze downcast, unable to bring herself to look him in the eyes.
“You’ve never been a burden. You’re the beacon in my eternal night, and I’m helpless against the pull of your light.”
He took her hand in his, pressing it to his bare chest where his heart no longer beat.
“I’ve already vowed to protect you from the dangers of this world, from vampires like the Reaper, and even from myself if necessary.” His thumb brushed over the back of her hand in a tender motion. “But now, I see that you need more than just protection—you need assurance.” His gaze met hers again, steady and sincere. “And I’ll give it to you. In the ways of my kind, there’s a sacred tradition—a blood oath. It’s a vow of devotion, a pledge of protection and care.”
Rowan’s eyes flared, and she chewed on her bottom lip before speaking. “A blood oath?”
“Yes.” He nodded, his gaze on their intertwined hands. “An irrevocable vow, one that’s bound by blood and magic. It’s not taken lightly, because the repercussions of breaking such a vow can be deadly.”
“Then why? Why would you risk such a thing?”
In response, Casimir simply looked at her. His eyes held a depth of emotion she’d never seen before. Regret, pain, hope, and something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
“Because in this vast, dark eternity that is my existence, you’re the one ray of light that pierces through. Because the very thought of losing you is more terrifying than any consequence.”
With a swift motion, he unsheathed his dagger and pressed it against his palm, drawing a thin line of blood.
“I swear on the blood in my undead veins that I will be your shield against all who seek to harm you.” He pressed her hand against the blood on his palm. The thick red liquid seeped between their fingers, binding his promise. “I vow to care for you. To offer my strength when you are weakened, and my courage when you are afraid.”
He released her hand, only to raise it to his lips, kissing her blood-stained palm gently.
“To respect you, honor you, and never force my will upon yours. This I vow as your devoted protector and faithful companion, until the end of my days.”
The weight of his words washed over her, and Rowan could feel the defenses she’d built starting to crumble. Despite the tears welling in her eyes, she smiled. “Is this your way of trying to win me over?”
“Will you accept my blood oath? Will you allow me to vow myself completely to you?” His eyes searched hers. When Rowan looked back at him, all she saw was unwavering conviction and raw vulnerability.
“Yes. I accept your blood oath,” she said in a shaky voice. “And I want to apologize for how I acted. For everything.”
Their gazes locked, and in that moment, everything else—the Reaper’s looming presence; the daunting task ahead—fell away.
“Thank you,” Rowan said, her voice filled with gratitude and hope. “For believing in me. For telling me about your past, and for letting me in. ”
Casimir’s response came not in words, but in the gentle squeeze of her hand, and any remaining doubts she had were swept away in that tender gesture.