Chapter 3. Ambrose #2
Blaise glanced over his shoulder and grinned, bright and unbothered, motioning for me to catch up. I hadn’t realized he wasn’t alone.
Sasha stood beside him, just beyond the reach of the streetlight, her arms crossed as shadows curled lazily at her feet.
One of the few succubi in our clan and five years our junior, she wore an unimpressed expression sharp enough to cut glass.
Sasha had never been subtle about her disdain for the summoning, and she was one of the few who would’ve happily gone her entire existence without meeting her fated mate.
“Sup, dudes,” she said flatly. “Still hunting together?”
Blaise jabbed a fist into my arm, flashing his teeth. “Nah. I’ve finally taught this one all I know and set him loose in the big bad world to find his food on his own.”
I forced my mouth into a grin, even as something tight twisted in my chest.
I guess “We had sex and now everything’s weird” didn’t make for good small talk.
“Hmm,” was all Sasha offered. “Excited about the summoning?” she asked, though her tone couldn’t have sounded less enthusiastic.
“’Course we are,” Blaise said. He wore that same easy grin, though this time it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re not?”
Sasha let out a long, slow breath. “I mean... I should be. It’s what we’re meant for, right? But I just had a really good year in the mortal realm, y’know?”
“Oh, tell me about it,” Blaise said, a little too quickly.
Everything was moonlight and shadows for Blaise. I wished I had his ability to roll with the punches, to pretend everything didn’t lodge under my skin.
“Honestly,” Sasha muttered, “I could take a leaf out of Devlin’s book.”
“Devlin?” I asked, my brows knitting together.
“Didn’t you catch him before he left?” Sasha said. “He’s not doing the summoning this year. Took off on a vacation or whatever. Said he needed a break.”
“He’s... skipping the summoning?” Blaise echoed, mirroring my disbelief. “Devlin?”
Devlin had lived for the idea of meeting his fated mate.
He’d practically starved himself after not being summoned that first year, clinging to some lovesick belief that he should save himself for her.
It had taken Lochran, Blaise, and me weeks to convince him to finally go out and feed.
Every Samhain after, he’d waited hopelessly for this to be the year he was finally summoned.
The idea that he would simply... opt out?
Something cracked open in my chest.
Because if Devlin could skip it... Could I?
I glanced at Blaise, and for the briefest second, our eyes met. Something electric passed between us—wonderful and terrifying and full of possibility.
Maybe, I thought. Maybe he feels it too? Maybe we don’t have to go through with this. Maybe we could just go back to our apartment and—
And what?
Forget about our mates? Forget that I’d taken advantage of him?
The fantasy collapsed in on itself just as quickly as it had formed.
“Why would Devlin not want to meet his mate?” Blaise asked.
Sasha shrugged. “Beats me. Thought it was all he ever wanted.” She stepped past us, already melting into shadow. “Guess I should go make myself presentable.” Sardonically, she added, “Just in case tonight’s the night.”
Her footsteps faded, and a second later, she was swallowed by the dark.
An uncomfortable silence stretched between us. Then Blaise’s gaze shifted to me, his brows drawing together, his teeth worrying at his bottom lip like he might have been having the same thoughts as me. My words caught in my throat. I froze, wondering if I’d read that look right.
But then his attention flicked past me. “Look,” he said softly. “It’s Lochran.”
And just like that, my hope died for the hundredth time.
Time to act normal, I told myself. And to stop misinterpreting every look he gives you.
Chest deflating, I let my shadows consume me, pulling me toward Lochran. My arms solidified over his shoulders. A second later, I had to swallow the groan that threatened to escape me as Blaise’s arm settled on top of mine, the heat of his skin searing into me.
“Evening,” I murmured down to Lochran, desperate for my voice to mask the thrumming of my heart at Blaise’s touch. I cast a glance at Blaise, but he wore only his usual easy grin as he poked Lochran in the ribs.
Lochran winced, his chipped canine flashing.
His inky-black hair was cropped tight at the sides, a habit born of necessity to disguise the way it stuck out around the scar on his temple—the result of an ill-advised attempt in his youth to summon his shadow wings and see just how high he could fly in a storm. It hadn’t gone well.
Lochran’s violet eyes flicked between us with dry amusement.
“I heard about Devlin,” Blaise said, his golden eyes flashing.
“If we’re not summoned this Samhain,” I added, “we should go and find him. See if he’s okay.”
Gods knew I’d need the excuse to stay busy if Blaise was summoned and I wasn’t.
Lochran gave a grunt of agreement, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. “I think he needs some time to sort his shit out.”
We all needed to sort our shit out.
I was in love with my best friend. Said best friend seemed blissfully unaware. Devlin—so devastated by the thought of being rejected for the ninth year running—had decided to flee the summoning entirely. And Lochran, a sex demon, had been on a self-imposed celibacy streak for years now.
Yeah. We’re all doing great.
We finally peeled ourselves off Lochran, and I schooled my expression against the lingering tingle of Blaise’s touch. Thankfully, Lochran seemed too deep in his own thoughts to notice. He let out a heavy sigh as the town hall came into view.
Built of simple stone, its tall white walls stark against the dark, the worn bell tower rose into the gloom like a sentinel. A mirror of it existed in the mortal world, at the heart of the Briar Coven.
I wondered how many of our kind—those who’d been summoned and could never return to our realm—had stood in the mortal town hall and remembered waiting here. Thinking of the mates they hadn’t met yet. The lives they hadn’t known they were about to lose.
The heavy wooden doors swung open, spilling warm light across the cracked stone steps and catching on my boots. The town hall was one of the few places in the Shadow Realm that held any real color, drawn from the nervous excitement of the demons gathering over the centuries.
Garlands of herbs twisted down from the rafters, their scents floral and earthy.
A statue of Hecate loomed at the far end of the hall, half cloaked in shadow, half bathed in light.
At the center of it all sat a long table bowed beneath the weight of food.
Not that any of us needed to eat—but tradition was tradition.
Lochran headed for his usual seat, Devlin’s spot eerily empty beside him.
I took my seat as Blaise dropped into the spot beside me. A moment later, shadows pooled at his other side as Sasha materialized into her chair, boots propped on the table, arms folded behind her head.
“Remind me again why I didn’t skip this year?” she said.
“Because you didn’t know you could before Devlin,” Blaise replied, his grin snapping back into place like it had never left.
Sasha snorted. “He can’t really escape it,” she said. “None of us can. It’s called fate for a reason.” She sighed, long and dramatic. “So, skip it or not, my witch is destined to find me. Might as well enjoy myself while I still can.”
She was right. It didn’t matter—even if Blaise felt the same way. We were both fated to another. The best I could hope for was one more year in his company.
So, while Sasha launched into an intimate retelling of her latest encounter with a kraken shifter, I let my attention drift to Blaise instead.
The way his lips parted when he smiled. The way his shadows swirled unconsciously around him, restless and unguarded whenever his focus slipped.
The faint flush creeping into his cheeks as Sasha gleefully detailed the advantages of so many tentacles.
Please, I thought. Just one more year. Just one more year without being summoned.
The room stilled.
Then the first toll of the bell rang out through the hall—low and resonant, reverberating through stone and straight into my bones.
Blaise’s gaze snapped to mine, golden eyes wide with barely masked panic before he squeezed them shut, his fingers curling into fists against his thighs.
My body moved before my mind could catch up. I reached beneath the table and found his hand. He tensed for only a heartbeat before our fingers threaded together, palm to palm. With each toll of the bell, his grip tightened, as if he were trying to tether himself to me.
Four tolls. Five. Six.
All around us, shadows stirred and lifted. Demons vanished one by one, but I couldn’t tear my gaze from Blaise to see who was gone, terrified that if I looked away, I’d look back to find him missing.
Seven. Eight. Nine.
Still here. His hand still in mine.
Ten. Eleven.
No shadows reached for us. No invisible cord severing in my chest.
Twelve.
And then silence.
My heart nearly burst with relief. I wanted to pull him into my arms, press my forehead to his, and whisper “Thank you, thank you, thank you” into the space between us.
Blaise cracked one eye open, then the other. Pure, exquisite relief flooded his face so clearly it made my chest ache.
If we hadn’t been surrounded by others, I don’t think I could have stopped myself from kissing him.
This has to mean something, I thought. A ninth year unsummoned. A ninth year together. That had to mean something.
My gaze bore into him, the words already forming. I could ask him to come home with me. I could tell him what I’d buried for years. Tell him that I loved him.
Hope that he felt it too, that he’d want this year to mean more than just an awkward friendship.
You need to stop. He doesn’t feel the same. You took advantage of him, and you need to stop.
Blaise’s gaze dropped. He stared at our entwined hands like he was only just realizing we were touching at all. His fingers flexed once, and then he pulled away.
The breath locked in my lungs. The words I’d been shaping died before they ever reached my mouth.
He looked around the room too quickly. “Sasha’s gone,” he said, his voice strained. His gaze flicked to the empty seat across from us, brows lifting. “And Lochran too! Looks like he’ll finally be packing in the sex ban,” he added, with an awkward huff of laughter.
I said nothing. I stared down at my now-empty fingers, cold tingling where his warmth had been.
I couldn’t go another year like this.
I swallowed hard. “Blaise—”
His eyes snapped to mine. For one heartbeat, he looked almost hopeful.
Then the mask slid back into place.
He leaned away, settling into his chair like nothing had happened.
“Guess I better accept those contracts,” he said lightly.
“Both start tomorrow. Well... today, I guess.” His grin tilted.
“You sure you don’t want the candy witch gig?
Sounds like your kind of sweet torture.” He winced, as if regretting his attempt at a joke.
I shook my head, too stunned to trust my voice.
Blaise pulled out his phone and, after one last unreadable glance at me, accepted the contracts. Around us, the hall surged back to life. Laughter burst from nearby tables. Goblets clinked. Chairs scraped. Congratulations rang out for demons who were no longer there.
He lifted his glass toward me. “Great. Well, here’s to another year of...” His voice trailed off, as if even he couldn’t find a name for the strained year ahead of us.
With a final sigh, he drained it in one swallow, stood, and disappeared into the crowd.