Chapter Eight
Mateo
The Bond Awakens
It starts as a whisper in my blood. A shift. A tremor. A sensation that punches straight through my gut and splinters up my spine.
Something’s wrong with Harlow.
The sun is still high in the sky, mocking me with its merciless rays. I can’t go to her. I can’t go to her. I pace the security room like a rabid beast, every muscle in my body coiled, ready to explode into motion, but I’m shackled by daylight.
She’s afraid. No, she’s absolutely fucking terrified. The connection between us vibrates with her panic. I can feel her heartbeat, too ragged and too fast. I clutch the edge of the counter where my laptop rests, splintering the wood beneath my fingertips.
"Fuck!" I roar, the sound shaking the windows.
I yank out my phone, fingers shaking as I call the only person who can help right now.
“Scarlet,” I growl the moment she picks up. “I need you.”
There’s a beat of silence on her end, but her tone is instantly alert. “What’s going on?”
“Harlow is...” I say, voice rough. “She’s in danger. She’s in the forest, to the northwest, maybe half a mile past the creek. Something’s not right. I can’t explain it, but I can feel it. I know it with every fiber of my soul.”
Scarlet doesn’t hesitate. “I’m on my way.”
The line goes dead, and I wait. I try to distract myself. I check the cameras, and I cycle through the satellite feeds. I refresh the perimeter alerts, again and again. But it’s all static. No Harlow. No Scarlet. Just ... nothing.
I was worried before, but now that I have involved Scarlet, I am terrified. Losing her will kill Kyson, but I didn’t have any other choice. She was the only person who could help me.
Seconds crawl and minutes feel like years. I can’t sit down, but I can’t stand still either. I move from one end of the room to the other, my mind conjuring every fucking worst-case scenario. I imagine her bleeding and unconscious. I imagine a jagter’s arrow in her chest.
I tear the edge of the desk clean off this time as my laptop clatters to the floor. I didn’t even notice the damage I caused until blood ran down my palm.
“Dammit,” I hiss, shaking out my hand. The pain doesn’t register—only the absence of her.
Then I hear it. The buzz of the compound gate. I’m moving before the sound fades, bolting across the hall, throwing open the front doors like a man possessed. But I don’t step outside. The last rays of sunlight are still enough to cause damage if I do.
Scarlet walks in, panting, covered in leaves and mud, one side of her shirt torn open, but she’s upright. And in her arms...
“Harlow.” My voice breaks.
She’s limp but conscious. Her beautiful face is pale and smeared with dirt. The second her gaze meets mine, something in her snaps. She launches herself into my arms, her body trembling uncontrollably as she curls herself into my chest.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper, holding her so tight I’m afraid I’ll break her, but I can’t let go. “I’ve got you, mi alma .”
She doesn’t speak—just clings to me. Her sobs are soundless, shaking her whole frame.
Behind us, Scarlet sags against the doorframe, catching her breath. She may be bruised and dirty, but she looks fine, and I feel a wave of relief.
I pull back just enough to look Harlow over. Her shirt is ripped, and there’s a bruise forming on her wrist. Her eyes are wide and unfocused. I’ve seen this look before in war. In trauma.
I want to kill whoever did this to her.
“What happened?” I ask Scarlet, my voice like gravel.
But before she can answer, another voice cuts through the tension like a blade.
“What the fuck, Mateo?” Kyson. He storms into the room, eyes blazing. “You sent Scarlet into the forest while the sun was up? Alone?”
“I didn’t have a choice!” I snap, turning to face him with Harlow still in my arms. “Harlow was in danger. I felt it. I couldn’t get to her...”
“So you threw Scarlet into the fire instead?” Kyson snarls, stepping forward, trying to intimidate me. “What if she hadn’t come back?”
“She did come back,” Scarlet says hoarsely from behind me.
Kyson spins toward her. “You could’ve been killed!”
“But I wasn’t,” she counters.
“That’s not the goddamn point!” He throws his hands in the air, clearly at his wits’ end with both of us.
“Enough!” I bark, my voice cracking through the room.
“You think I don’t know how dangerous it was?
You think I didn’t weigh every option I had before asking your consort for help.
Do you know what I was feeling while she was out there, alone and scared, with the bond pulling at my fucking soul like a noose? ”
Kyson’s jaw clenches. “We have rules, Mateo. Protocols.”
“Fuck your protocols.” My voice lowers, deadly calm. “She’s mine. My consort. You can’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the same if it were Scarlet out there.”
Silence settles like ash. That sure shut him up.
Scarlet straightens and looks between us. “I’d do it again,” she says quietly. “She would’ve been taken. Or worse.”
Kyson scrubs a hand through his hair, visibly trying to rein in his fury. He turns to me, eyes dark. “Get her inside. But know, this isn’t over.”
He storms away. I don’t spare him a glance. My focus is Harlow. I carry her into the front room and settle her gently onto the plush bench just inside the entryway. She’s still pale and still trembling, but her eyes are a little clearer now.
Her fingers curl into my sleeve. “Where ... where am I?”
“You’re safe,” I say. “You’re at our compound.” She tenses instantly.
I see the realization hit her. The confusion turns cold. “You brought me somewhere.”
“You were in danger,” I say, kneeling in front of her, holding her gaze. “Scarlet brought you to safety.”
“But this ... this feels like...” She swallows. “Like I’m not allowed to leave.”
I inhale slowly, steadying myself. “This place is secure, yes. But you are not a prisoner.” She doesn’t look convinced. “And out there ... it’s not safe. You’ve seen that now.”
Her voice is faint. “What if I want to go?” The question shreds something inside me.
“Then I’ll follow you,” I answer honestly. “I’ll protect you from the shadows if I have to. But if you stay here, if you let me protect you, then I can keep you alive. And maybe ... maybe we can figure this out together.”
Her gaze drops. She looks lost. Fractured. But she doesn’t say no. So I stay right where I am, ready to hold her or let her go. Whatever she needs.
Because she’s mine and I’ll burn down the fucking world if it means keeping her safe.
****
Hours later, Harlow lies curled on my bed, her dark hair fanned across the pillows like a midnight halo. Her breathing is finally even, but I still sit beside her, motionless, watching her like she might disappear if I blink too long.
She didn’t leave, but she didn’t say she would stay either. Exhaustion swept her under, and she fell asleep against my shoulder. I stayed there for an hour before I carried her up to my bed, where she could rest more comfortably.
I watch her sleep, but I don’t join her. I couldn’t even if I tried.
Every time I close my eyes, I imagine her in that forest. Bleeding, hunted, and afraid. And I wasn’t there. It sends me into an irrational fit of rage just thinking of what could have happened.
The sun has long since set, the moon high in the sky, but I feel no relief. Only guilt. And dread, for what comes next. Because I can’t hide the truth from her any longer. She deserves to know everything. And when she wakes ... she will.
She stirs just before midnight. A faint groan escapes her lips, and her eyes flutter open. For a moment, they’re unfocused, dazed, and then they find mine.
She jerks upright. “Where am I?”
“In my room,” I say quietly. “You fell asleep on the couch. I moved you to my room so you could be comfortable.”
Her eyes flick around the space. Dark wood, stone walls, iron candle sconces, but no windows. Panic flickers in her gaze. She starts to push the covers off, and I don’t stop her. But I do speak before she can bolt.
“Harlow. Sit down. Please. I need to tell you something. Actually, I need to tell you everything.”
She hesitates, then lowers herself back onto the bed. Her arms wrap around her knees, like she’s bracing herself for impact. I shift to sit across from her, but not too close.
“I’m not human,” I blurt out, ripping off the proverbial band-aid. Her breath catches. “I’m a vampire.”
She doesn’t speak. Doesn’t scream. She just stares, but I can see the battle behind her eyes.
“I was born over two hundred and forty years ago. I’m part of a coven. We live here, in this compound, hidden and protected from the outside world.”
She shakes her head slightly, disbelieving. “No. No, that’s not ... vampires aren’t real.”
“They are.” My voice is steady, calm. “I am real. And so are the people who want to hurt you.”
“What are you talking about?” she whispers.
“There’s a group of humans, hunters. They call themselves jagters. They know about us. And they want us all dead. You were being tracked, Harlow. They were closing in.”
“But why me?” she says, voice trembling.
“Because you’re mine.” Her mouth opens, but no sound comes out.
I lean forward, slow and deliberate. “You’re my consort. The Oracle told me I’d find you, and the moment I scented you, I knew. Every vampire has one true match. And you’re mine.”
“Consort,” she echoes, like she doesn’t quite understand the word.
I nod. “You’re human. But your soul is bound to mine. That bond has started to awaken, which is why you felt it in the forest, why I felt it. We’re connected now. You were never just some random girl, Harlow. You’ve always been ... destined.”
She looks down at her hands. They’re shaking.
“You said I was safe,” she says quietly. “But now you’re saying I can’t leave.”
I hesitate. Then I speak the truth. “No. You can’t. Not now.”
She finally looks at me, eyes full of anger and disbelief. “You lied to me.”
“I protected you,” I say. “And I won’t stop. You’re not a prisoner, Harlow. But out there, you’ll be a target. The hunters don’t just kill vampires. They kill anyone who sides with us. Anyone who matters to us.”
She flinches like I struck her. “You had no right,” she whispers.
“I know.”
“You should’ve told me.”
“I know that too.”
“Then why didn’t you?” Her voice rises, desperate now. “Why not tell me the truth from the start?”
“Because I was scared,” I say. “Scared you’d run. Scared I’d lose you before I ever had the chance to know you.”
Silence.
She’s breathing hard. I can smell her fear. Her fury. But I also feel something else. The bond. It’s faint and shaky, but it's still there.
“I need air,” she says, standing. Her knees wobble.
I rise with her. “You can step outside. The courtyard is secure. I’ll stay back and give you space.”
She nods once, too numb to argue. She walks out the door, barefoot and unsteady, and I let her go. But I don’t stop watching. Because I told her the truth.
And now, everything depends on what she does next.