Wolf’s Blood, Vampire’s Debt #3
I grind down against him, friction sparking between our bodies. I need to feel him. I need to prove that he isn't a corpse, that I didn't lose him.
"You're alive," I pant, breaking the kiss to stare into his eyes. They are wild, the "Financier" mask shattered into a million pieces. "You stubborn asshole, you're alive."
"Because of you," he rasps. He sits up, pulling me with him so I’m wrapped around his waist.
He buries his face in the crook of my neck, inhaling my scent like it’s oxygen. "You are... potent."
His lips graze the pulse point of my throat. I arch back, a moan tearing from my throat. It echoes in the empty chapel, a sound of pure need.
"Zephyr," I whisper, my hands moving to the belt of his trousers. I need skin. I need the friction to ground the magic swirling around us.
He stops me.
His hand covers mine, halting my movement. His grip is shaking.
"Regina," he breathes, his forehead resting against my sternum. "We cannot."
"Why?" I demand, breathless, my blood singing. "The door is locked. We're alive."
"Because," he says, pulling back to look at me. His eyes are clearing, the red fading back to a stormy gray. "The resonance. Do you feel it?"
I stop. I focus.
He's right. The air around us is vibrating. The dust motes are dancing in a frantic, circular pattern.
The energy in the room—fed by my blood and his healing—is spiking.
"If we continue," Zephyr says, his voice tight with restraint, "we will overload the circuit. We will bring this chapel down on our heads."
He gently pulls my shirt down, covering my skin. It is an act of supreme willpower.
I can see the hunger still burning in him, the way his pupils dilate when he looks at my mouth. But the Architect is back online. He is assessing the structural risk.
I slump against him, the adrenaline crashing. "You ruin everything with physics."
"I preserve everything with physics," he corrects, pulling me into a hug. It isn't sexual now. It is protective.
He wraps his arms around me, holding me like I am the most valuable asset in his portfolio. "Physics is how we survive."
We sit there for a long time in the silence of the chapel. The only sound is our breathing, slowly syncing up.
"I'm scared," I whisper into his chest.
It is the first time I’ve admitted it out loud. Not 'tactically concerned'. Scared.
"Of the assassins?" Zephyr asks, rubbing circles on my back.
"No. Of me." I pull back to look at him.
"When I saw Sable... when I realized she betrayed me... I didn't feel sad, Zephyr. I felt... erased. And then, when I gave you my blood... I liked it. I liked the power. I liked knowing I could save you when your money couldn't."
I look at my hands. The cut on my palm is already healing, leaving a faint white line.
"My father hid me for a reason," I say.
"What if the 'hidden asset' isn't a gift? What if it's a weapon? What if I'm just a bomb waiting to go off?"
Zephyr takes my face in his hands. His touch is cool, grounding.
"You are terrified of your own magnitude," he says softly. "It is a common reaction to an upgrade."
"I'm not software," I argue weakly.
"No," he agrees. "You are something far more complex. You are organic chaos. And that terrifies me too."
He admits it. The invincible vampire admits fear.
"I am terrified," he continues, his thumb brushing my cheek, "because for three hundred years, I have been a closed loop. I input nothing. I output nothing. I was stable. And now..."
He looks at the bloodstain on his shirt—my blood. "Now I am dependent. If I lose you, Regina... I do not just lose a partner. I lose the foundation. I collapse."
"So we're both terrified," I say, a watery smile touching my lips.
"Terror is data," Zephyr says. "It tells us the stakes are real."
He leans in and kisses my forehead. A benediction.
"We will figure out the magic," he promises. "We will audit the prophecy. We will find the discrepancy."
He stands up, offering me a hand. He looks better. The color has returned to his face. The wound in his chest is gone, leaving only a tear in the fabric.
"Come," he says. "We need to move. This sanctuary is compromised."
I take his hand. He pulls me up.
As I stand, a sharp, searing pain lashes across my ribs.
"Ah!" I cry out, clutching my side.
"Regina?" Zephyr is there instantly, supporting me. "Is it the leg?"
"No," I gasp, the burning sensation spreading like wildfire under my skin. "It’s... my side. It burns."
I pull up the hem of my shirt.
We both freeze.
On the skin of my ribcage, right over my heart, a mark is forming.
It isn't a bruise. It isn't a cut.
It is a brand.
Lines of black fire are searing themselves into my flesh, smelling of burning ozone and sulfur.
They twist and writhe, forming a complex, geometric sigil. An eye inside a triangle inside a circle of teeth.
"What is that?" I whisper, horror cold in my stomach.
Zephyr stares at it. His face goes pale, absolute dread filling his eyes.
"It is a receipt," he says hollowly.
The sigil pulses.
And then, my mouth opens, but it isn't my voice that comes out.
It is smooth. Cultured. Male.
"The contract is sealed," Daxios's voice speaks through my lips. "Payment received in blood. Collection begins now."