Chapter 29
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
JAMES
I’m not sure when the library became our living room, but the evidence is all around me– Taylor’s discarded slippers beneath the armchair, a half-solved puzzle monopolizing the coffee table, and a mug of tea gone cold beside an open book.
It’s nearly midnight. The world beyond the windows is dark and cold, but in here, everything glows with warmth and light.
Taylor’s sprawled sideways on the sofa, her legs stretched along the cushions, head resting against my chest. I absentmindedly comb my fingers through her chestnut hair, watching the strands shine gold when they catch the firelight.
Every now and then she lets out a sound– half sigh, half purr– that I could listen to for centuries.
Across from us, Dr. Faulkner lounges in an armchair, whiskey in hand. He’s dressed in his usual black, his briefcase resting on the low table between us. We’ve been discussing politics and the weather for the past half hour, circling the real reason he’s here.
Taylor seems perfectly content with the small talk. I, on the other hand, am not above resorting to violence if he doesn’t get to the point soon.
“So, what’s the verdict?” I finally ask. “Did we pass the bonding test, or are we going to sprout fur at the next full moon?”
He sets his whiskey down on the side table, then adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose. He doesn’t need them to see– vampires have perfect vision– yet he chooses to wear them as a damn fashion statement. Ridiculous.
“It’s not that kind of bond,” he says dryly, dark eyes glinting behind his lenses. “But if you’d like, I can keep you under observation for the next lunar cycle.”
Taylor snickers, her toes flexing lazily against the armrest. “I think you’d rather cut us up and see what’s inside.”
“Don’t tempt him,” I murmur, threading my fingers through hers. I lift her hand and press a kiss to the back of it, breathing in the scent of her skin.
Elliott’s mouth quirks in his version of a laugh. “You’re not wrong. But before I resort to dissection, I have something I want to show you both. A demonstration, if you will.”
He flips open the clasps on his briefcase and extracts a velvet-lined tray, setting it carefully on the coffee table. It contains two vials of blood, sealed and labeled with our names, along with a slender glass test tube and dropper.
“Ooh,” Taylor coos as she sits up, curiosity overriding her lethargy. I wore her out at sunset, but she bounces back faster these days. Another perk of our bond.
Eli aligns the vials side by side. The liquid inside each is almost identical, except for texture. Mine’s thicker, nearly black, while hers is a deep garnet that gleams in the firelight. Just the sight of it stirs my hunger.
“These are the samples I took from you weeks ago, before the bond fused,” he says, voice falling into the cadence of a lecture. “As you know, I already tested them for compatibility. The surprise wasn’t the diagnostics, but how the blood reacted when mixed. It takes a lot to impress me, but this…”
I arch a brow. “Are you going to show us, or just keep talking about it?”
He ignores me, drawing a small sample from Taylor’s vial with the dropper and depositing it into a test tube. “Normal blood, no surprises here,” he narrates, swirling the tube. The liquid clings to the glass, sliding down in slow, viscous ribbons.
My mouth waters.
“Now,” he continues, unscrewing the cap on the second vial, “if we add yours…”
He proceeds to add a few drops of my blood, then sets the dropper aside, swirling the test tube with a surgeon’s precision.
For a moment, nothing happens. Then the blood begins to glow.
It starts as a faint ember at the base of the glass; a quiet shimmer like the first spark of dawn. But as he keeps swirling, the light spreads, creeping like fire through oil until the entire mixture burns with a deep, incandescent red. It pulses like a heartbeat, impossibly alive.
Taylor leans forward, elbows braced on her knees, mouth parted in awe. “Is that supposed to happen?”
“If you’re bonded, yes,” he replies, ever the academic. “The reaction occurs on contact, but the real test is stability.”
He sets the tube down, the glow already staring to fade.
“Now, if you’d kindly offer your veins…”
We do. He moves with methodical grace, drawing a small sample from each of us before returning to his chair. Our blood vials are placed on either side of the original test tube, and while the center glow wanes, our fresh, newly-bonded blood burns steadily.
“And there’s your confirmation,” Eli says, like a magician revealing the trick’s final turn. “The continued reactivity confirms the bond is in full effect. Taylor, have you noticed any changes in your physiology since the bonding?”
She glances at me before answering. “You mean the strength, the senses…?”
He nods.
“Yeah,” she breathes, head bobbing.
“Good,” he replies. “That means you’re sharing James’ traits now. Over time, those will continue to amplify. Theoretically, the longer you remain connected, the more profound the transformation. For both of you.”
Taylor’s eyes widen. For a second, I think she might bolt, but she only sinks back into the cushions, letting the information roll over her like a tide.
“Do I have to keep drinking his blood for it to stick?” she asks, brow furrowing.
“No,” Elliott says, voice even. “The bond is self-sustaining, provided there’s at least occasional physical contact between you two.
The more frequent, the stronger the link becomes.
You’re human, so your blood regenerates naturally.
James, however, will need to continue feeding from you to maintain the full benefits.
Given the strength of this bond already, he should be able to go weeks without a direct feed and still retain them. ”
I watch Taylor absorb this, her expression a flicker of relief, confusion, and something dangerously close to hope.
I clear my throat. “You’re certain?”
He inclines his head. “The evidence is right there,” he says, gesturing toward the still-glowing vials.
“But understand, this comes with risk. If word of it spreads, you’ll become targets.
And if either of you die, the tether severs.
” He fixes his gaze on me, expression cold.
“In the event of Taylor’s death, you’ll lose your enhanced abilities, and in the event of yours, Taylor will lose the benefit of immortality. She’ll age and eventually perish.”
“Wonderful,” I deadpan. “A two-for-one special on existential dread.”
Taylor elbows me lightly. “At least we go together, right?”
“Romantic,” I mutter, though it gives rise to a tug in my chest that has nothing to do with humor and everything to do with her.
Dr. Faulkner starts methodically packing away his supplies, glass clinking. Taylor watches him, her brows knitting. Curiosity hums through the bond, warm and electric.
“Can I ask you something?” she murmurs.
He glances up. “Go ahead.”
“What happened to Anna? Did you… is she…” She trails off, eyes searching his.
Elliott just stares.
“I think she’s asking whether you’ve killed her,” I remark, lips tipping in an amused smirk.
Annoyance flashes across his face “No,” he answers, clipped. “She’s very much alive and well. Just not part of my orbit anymore.”
Taylor frowns, looking to me for confirmation.
I sling an arm around her shoulders and draw her in closer. “Eli has never been good with people,” I tell her. “He can’t keep a donor for more than a few months.”
“It’s not my fault they’re all insufferable,” he mutters.
My smirk deepens. While my friend has a brilliant mind, his social skills are catastrophic. His world runs on equations and hypotheses; emotions are an inconvenience he’s never learned to solve. Most mortals can barely stand him for a week, let alone longer.
He finishes packing up, closing the briefcase with a sharp click before standing. “I’ll leave you to it,” he sighs. “As much as I’d love to stay and socialize, I have other projects demanding attention.”
“Let me know when you’re ready for another donor,” I say, tipping my head toward him. “I’m sure we’ve got a few on the roster at Bite who can tolerate your particular brand of charm.”
“Not likely,” he mumbles. “Though I’ll need another eventually. Blood bags are a poor substitute for the real thing.”
“You sound just like James,” Taylor comments.
His gaze flicks to me, then back to her. “I suppose we’re all monsters of habit.” He tucks the briefcase under an arm. “If you notice any further developments, keep me informed. I’m very interested to see how this progresses.”
“Like what?” She asks.
He pauses, considering. “Well, ancient texts suggest that some bonded pairs developed additional abilities. Telekinesis, premonitions, telepathy...”
“Telepathy?” she repeats, wide-eyed.
The faintest smile ghosts across his lips. “If he starts reading your mind, you might want to invest in privacy measures.”
With that parting shot, he sweeps out of the library, the echo of his footsteps fading down the hall.
Taylor sinks back into the sofa cushions with a satisfied sigh, limbs draping lazily. She tilts her head toward me, wearing a look that can only be described as pure smugness.
“So, I guess it’s official,” she declares. “You’re stuck with me.”
I huff a quiet laugh, brushing a lock of hair from her brow. “I look forward to the privilege of spending eternity in your company, darling. Though it feels cruel to keep knowledge of this bond contained. He could’ve at least offered us a certificate or something to commemorate the occasion.”
“I’d settle for an insurance plan in case you accidentally eat me,” she fires back, stretching her arms over her head. “Though I guess that’s less likely now?”
“Marginally,” I admit, smirking.