Curiosity Killed The Vampire (Magical Midlife Death #17)

Chapter 1

CASS

We left Shadow Phantom in a haze of farewells—hugs, handshakes, and the kind of silent looks only warriors traded when they knew it might be the last time.

The air outside the fortress was intense and cold, carrying a familiar weight—steel, ash, and the smoky trace of sandalwood from the candles Selima always burned in the entry hall.

A part of me didn’t want to go. Shadow Phantom had always felt like home—endless corridors of stone and iron, the quiet vibration of power in the walls, the low murmur of voices from warriors who’d earned their place by blood and battle. I’d fit here in a way I rarely fit anywhere else.

Con’s hand brushed mine as we crossed the courtyard toward the waiting plane. “You’re quiet,” he said, voice low, rich with that controlled roughness that still made something in me twist.

“Just thinking.”

“Dangerous habit.”

I smirked, but the smile didn’t quite stick.

The night before was still too close. The way he’d kissed me, steady and unhurried at first, then deep enough to scrape at all the places I kept guarded.

The way my hunger had surged—undeniable, terrifying.

I’d wanted him—wanted everything—until instinct sliced through reason and my fangs grazed his skin.

He’d pulled away so fast I still felt the echo of it like phantom heat along my teeth.

We climbed aboard the small jet. The leather seats creaked softly as I sat.

Once the engines started, a low vibration rolled through the cabin, constant and oddly soothing.

Outside, the runway lights blurred into streaks as the craft lifted off, banking into a sky full of frost and ink.

Shadow Phantom shrank beneath us, a dark fortress crouched against snow and rock, until it was nothing but a memory pressed against my ribs.

Con sat beside me, long legs stretched out, arms folded loosely across his chest. His yellow eyes caught the muted cabin lights like molten metal. “You’re blaming yourself again.”

“I nearly bit you.”

His lips twitched. “You nearly did a lot of things.”

“That’s not funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be.”

I turned toward the window, watching clouds fold over one another like layers of smoke.

My reflection hovered in the glass—pale skin, dark eyes, worry etched there whether I wanted it or not.

“I don’t know what’s happening to me, Con.

These emotions, the magic—it’s all tangled together now.

I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. ”

He didn’t answer right away. The drone of the engines filled the silence between us.

Then, quietly, “You don’t need to fear what’s between us.”

I let out a brittle laugh. “Easy for you to say. You have control. I—”

His phone buzzed against his thigh. The glow of the screen washed briefly across his face. “Rene.” Whatever softness had been there vanished, replaced by the clean lines of command. “Ursula’s called a conclave meeting. She wants updates on the artifact search.”

“Now?”

“She doesn’t like waiting.”

I groaned and scrubbed a hand through my hair. “Of course she doesn’t. I was hoping for at least one night of pretending we’re normal.”

Con’s mouth curved. “Cass, you’ve never been normal.”

“Neither have you.”

He inclined his head, conceding the point. “Rene says to report once we land. The conclave’s concerned. Enhanced humans. Valerian’s involvement. They’re starting to connect the dots.”

“And we’re the ones holding the pencil,” I murmured.

He leaned back, the subtle tremor of the engine catching the hard line of his jaw. “We’ll handle it.”

But the air between us thickened again, dense with everything unsaid. The ache of what almost happened, and the fear that it might happen again.

I drew in a slow breath, the recycled air tasting of metal and something citrusy from the cleaning solution. “Con… what if this—whatever’s between us—needs more than we can give?”

He turned his head then, eyes catching mine. “You mean a blood bond.”

I nodded, throat tight. “I almost bit you. I wanted to. Maybe it’s the only way to—”

“No.” His voice cut clean through the hum of the plane.

I froze. “How can you be so sure?”

He looked straight ahead, but the edges of his tone softened, the steel wrapped in something gentler. “I’ve lived a thousand years, Cass. I’ve seen what my bond can do. It chains. Twists. Takes choice away. I won’t lose what makes you you just to ease temptation.”

Something caught in my chest and lodged there. “Then why risk being near me at all?”

This time he turned fully toward me, bracing one arm along the back of his seat. The intensity in his gaze made my heart stutter. “Because I love you. Bond or no bond, I will always love you. You don’t need my blood for that.”

The words hit like a weapon and a balm all at once.

Warmth and pain in the same breath. For a moment I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak.

I just stared at him—the warrior, the monster, the man who had watched empires rise and rot—wondering how something that ancient could still sound so heartbreakingly human.

Outside, the horizon began to pale. Dawn seeped into the sky, bleeding gold and violet through the ragged edges of clouds. The engines shifted pitch as we began our descent.

“Shadow Bone,” Con said quietly, watching the outline of the estate’s territory below, a dark smear against the waking world.

I didn’t answer. My pulse was still racing, my body humming from his words as if they were their own kind of magic.

The wheels kissed the tarmac with a jolt. As the plane slowed, I caught our reflection in the window—two silhouettes side by side, bound by something neither of us had dared to name.

And I realized, with a clarity that scared me more than any battle ever had—if what he’d said were true, if he truly loved me without the bond—then I was already his.

We exited the plane and got into the limo immediately, the chill air packing itself into the space between breaths before the door thudded shut behind us.

The ride back to Shadow Bone passed in a silence that wasn’t silence at all.

The muted growl of the engine, the subtle vibration of the tires over old stone, the low thrum of magic still prickling beneath my skin—the echo of Con’s words repeating in my mind until they were all I could hear.

I love you. Bond or no bond, I will always love you.

He’d said it as though it were the simplest thing in the world. As though declaring something like that didn’t rearrange every piece of me.

By the time the limo turned onto the private drive leading to the Shadow Bone estate, I still hadn’t managed to look him in the eye again.

I wanted to. Gods, I wanted to. But every time I shifted, that unshakable calm on his face made it worse—like he’d just reminded me of the weather, not confessed something that could change everything.

The night air was cool as we descended from the car.

The mansion rose before us like a cathedral of shadow and steel, its many windows gleaming with lantern light.

Torches burned along the long drive, their flames throwing fractured patterns across the cobblestone path, turning the ground into a mosaic of light and darkness.

I followed Con toward the front doors, my boots tapping against stone. I tried to ground myself in the familiar—the scent of old blood and cedar oil, the whisper of the wind along the outer wall, the invisible press of wards brushing over my skin like cobwebs. Home, I told myself. You’re home.

None of it quieted the storm inside me.

Con reached for the door first, pushing it open with that effortless strength that came as naturally to him as breathing. The grand entry swallowed us whole, high ceilings and polished marble reflecting the dim glow of chandeliers. The heavy doors closed behind us with a deep, rounded echo.

I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Is that it?” I blurted, my voice snapping against stone and shadow. “You just drop the love bomb and move on?”

He didn’t even slow his stride. “It was not a bomb,” he said, tone maddeningly even. “Just the truth. And you have known for years, Cassara. You simply didn’t want to hear it.”

My pulse kicked. “You’re so sure of that?”

He finally looked at me then—those molten eyes soft but unyielding. “I am.”

And damn him, he was right.

I’d seen it in every glance, every fight where he’d put himself between me and death, every argument where he’d rather take the wound than hurt me. I’d known. I’d just refused to name it.

Before I could answer, a figure appeared at the far end of the hall. Edward, immaculate as ever in his dark suit, glided toward us, expression composed but with a tightness around his eyes.

“Good. You’re back,” he said, tone brisk but edged with relief. “The conclave representatives are waiting for you in the ballroom.”

My stomach tightened. “Already?”

“They’ve been waiting since sunset. Ursula seems… anxious.”

That explained the tension threading through the air. Even the mansion seemed to feel it—the quiet too still, the candles burning lower than usual, the magic in the walls drawn taut like a bowstring.

Con nodded to Edward. “Thank you.”

We moved through the main corridor, our footsteps softened by the long crimson carpet that ran its length.

Paintings of former overseers watched from the walls, their painted eyes following us with an unsettling kind of awareness.

As we walked, I could feel the energy shift the closer we got—power gathering like static in the air, brushing over my skin in tiny sparks.

The double doors of the ballroom stood open, light spilling through in gold and blue hues from the crystal chandeliers above. The obsidian floor reflected the room like a dark mirror.