Chapter 12
Cristian
The pull had struck like a blade to the sternum. One breath I was still. The next, I was moving.
Nadia was in danger.
I reached the front door in time to find her on the floor, her body slack, her color wrong. A man crouched beside her, hand outstretched, a faint shimmer of energy passing between them.
Hammond.
The sight of him turned the air in my lungs to ash. “Step away from her.”
He didn’t startle. He looked over his shoulder, smiling that same hollow smile he’d worn the day he and the rest of the court locked me in a coffin. “You still come running when a woman calls, I see.”
I ignored the jab as I knelt, fingers at Nadia’s throat. Her pulse fluttered under my touch. I exhaled once.
She lived.
I stood slowly, keeping my body between her and him. “You could have killed her.”
He spread his hands. “You should know better than anyone that power must circulate, or it dies. I was merely sampling.”
“Sampling usually requires permission.”
He chuckled, but it was false. “Still righteous as ever. Still pretending to care about their kind.”
“Not pretending.”
Hammond’s gaze slid to Nadia’s still form, then back to me. The faint curl of disgust on his lips made my hands twitch.
“The court will be interested to know you’ve taken a pet. Maybe a long sleep and a pet to dote on is exactly what you needed to soften your will to our advances. Nothing like attachments to remind oneself of one’s weaknesses.”
I stepped closer, forcing him to meet my eyes. “Careful.”
His smile widened. “It’s the same weakness that kept you from joining us. All that strength, all that power, wasted on sentiment.”
“I won’t make the same mistake and turn my back on you again,” I said. “You won’t put me back in stasis. And no, I don’t want your ranks, your council, or your lies.”
His smile faltered. “You’re as defiant as ever. The court was surprisingly pleased to hear of your awakening. We would like to revisit what you could contribute to our cause. Your skills are desirable.”
I met his gaze, still as stone. “You don’t want my skills. You want my power, and the illusion that you can control it. You want to siphon it, pass it around, pretend you’ve earned what you can’t create yourselves.”
He flinched, only slightly.
“You call it sharing,” I went on. “I call it theft.”
Hammond’s smirk returned, but it was thinner now. “You misunderstand. The court, we elevate one another.”
“Peace doesn’t come from leashing those stronger than you,” I said. “You don’t elevate anything. You drain it.”
His gaze faltered, and something I recognized as shame flickered in his eyes, but he covered it with a shrug. “You could have had peace, Cristian. Power. Legacy. Instead, you cling to scraps of conscience and mortal attachments. And pets.”
I didn’t respond. He didn’t deserve the truth. He didn’t deserve to know that I had once believed in all of it. That I had once believed in him.
They’d wanted my strength because it frightened them. They wanted to control it, use it for themselves. No one had beaten me in battle. No one had contained me—until they tricked me. Bound me. Froze me in a void.
Once, I had been their greatest fear. I intended to be again.
I took one step forward. “If she dies because of you, there won’t be a second warning.”
Hammond’s smile cracked. “Always the martyr.”
I tilted my head. “You mistake restraint for martyrdom.”
He studied me for a moment, then turned his attention back to Nadia, who stirred faintly. “You’ll burn for her,” he said.
“Get out,” I said quietly.
He hesitated, perhaps expecting me to lash out, to lose control. But I’d already learned what that cost. He finally stepped back toward the door.
I called after him. “If you see my asshole brother, tell him I want my gold.”
That earned me a genuine laugh. “Picking up the language of this new world, are you?”
I almost smiled. “I’m a fast learner.”
He vanished into the early light, leaving behind the stench of rot and arrogance. The court had always used my attachments as leverage. I wouldn’t let that happen again.
I locked the door and stood still, listening. Silence. No heartbeat but Nadia’s.
Hammond had left.
I turned back to Nadia. She was sprawled on the floor, her breathing shallow. The sight clawed at me. Carefully, I picked her up, mindful of the weight of her head against my arm. She was warm. Always warm. The bond eased as I carried her to the couch. Every step pulled me tighter into her orbit.
I fetched a damp cloth from the bathroom and returned to her. I sat, lowering myself until her head rested on my thigh. I pressed the cloth to her forehead, brushing away the sheen of sweat. Her pulse thudded weakly against her throat, but it was there.
Holding her was a mistake. I knew it the moment I breathed her in. The yearning started small, but it spread to my chest and refused to leave. It wasn’t hunger. It wasn’t lust. This was something far more dangerous.
Hammond’s voice played in my mind. Nothing like attachments to remind oneself of one’s weaknesses.
He wasn’t wrong.
But as I looked down into Nadia’s face, I couldn’t bring myself to care.
Hammond had looked older. I couldn’t stop thinking about that. Vampires did not age. Yet his skin had thinned, and his aura had dimmed.
Nadia stirred, a faint sound escaping her throat. Her lashes fluttered open. She tried to sit up, but I pressed my hand gently to her shoulder.
“Take it slow,” I said.
Her voice rasped. “What happened?”
“You were the victim of an energy vampire.”
Her brow furrowed. “A what?”
“They feed on what they don’t have—your vitality, your will. They drain the living without breaking skin.”
She blinked, then groaned. “That makes sense. He wouldn’t shut up about fucking encyclopedias. I thought I was just being bored to death.”
A small smile tried to form at the corner of my mouth. “You were lucky I reached you in time.”
She swallowed, glancing down at her hands. “You keep saving me.”
“You keep needing to be saved.”
She looked up, and I saw the tremble of fear she tried to hide. The tether between us pulled, like a blade turning inward. Her fear weakened me. Her safety steadied me. I didn’t understand it, and I didn’t like it.
I reached up and brushed a strand of hair from her face. “Please don’t answer the door when you see a stranger on the other side.”
“Cristian…” she said quietly. “What the hell is going on? You’re clearly not telling me everything.”
“There isn’t much to tell,” I said. That was only half a lie. “There’s a group of ancient vampires. The Sovereign Court. They’ve wanted me in their ranks for centuries. I refused. They don’t take rejection well.”
She frowned. “So, they… put you in a coffin?”
“Stasis,” I corrected. “A prison of stillness. It was the only way they could contain me. They wanted my power for themselves, and I wouldn’t give it. They couldn’t kill me, so they buried me instead.”
Her eyes widened. “Why you?”
I hesitated. “I carry strength the court covets. They call it divine favor. I call it bad luck.”
“And now they’re back?”
“Apparently, their persistence doesn’t die any easier than they do.”
She exhaled, and the sound was one of frustration. “What are we supposed to do about it? I can’t live like a complete hermit all summer.”
“You won’t have to,” I said. “They’re pests. Dangerous, yes, but manageable. As long as I’m around you, they won’t touch you.”
“That’s even more reason we need to break this bond,” she said. “You can’t be my bodyguard forever. I have a life, Cristian. I can’t be bound to an undead man forever.”
The words hit harder than they should have, especially because I should want the same thing. Did want the same thing.
Didn’t I?
I nodded once, careful not to let it show. “I’m still working on that. You have my word, it’ll be done.” And yet, I still had no idea how I would accomplish it. I couldn’t even leave her side, much less search for someone who may be able to help us.
I would find a way. Ambrosia might know. Or my brother.
Nadia was quiet for a long time, staring at her hands like they might hold the answer.
“What are you thinking?” I asked.
She glanced at me, her expression softer than before, eyes focused somewhere far away.
“I’ve been working on keeping my energy in my own space,” she said slowly. “My therapist keeps telling me I need to protect it the way I protect my students. Not everyone deserves access to it.”
She took a shaky breath. “When Hammond showed up, I could feel it happening. It was like he was pulling something out of me. Not just my strength, but everything. It was too… familiar. I’ve done that to myself before, in smaller ways, like when I overextend.
When I bend too far for people who take and take. ”
Her throat tightened. “My therapist calls it energetic over-giving. I call it forgetting to matter.” She let out a nervous laugh, but none of the humor reached her eyes.
“What he did was a literal, visceral version of that. He walked in and took everything without asking, and I couldn’t stop him. But I can stop other people.”
She looked up at me again, voice steadier now. “So, I guess this was the universe’s extremely dramatic way of proving my therapist’s point. Protect my energy. Keep it where it belongs. Don’t just hand it over because someone wants it.”
I watched her for a moment, letting the words settle between us.
“That’s good. Your energy is invitation-only.”
A small smile touched her lips. “Exactly. But… um… where did you learn that phrase?”
“I’ve been reading the Psychology Today magazines you leave lying around the house. I find them quite informative. Contact?” I asked.
She hesitated, then held up her hand. I met her palm with mine. Warmth bled through the connection, and her steady gaze met mine.
I closed my fingers around hers for a fleeting moment, then forced myself to let go.
I stood. “Rest.”
And before I could change my mind, I walked away.
Because if I stayed another second, I wasn’t sure I could.
The house was too still.
I told myself I was walking its perimeter out of habit—checking the shadows, the windows, making sure the sounds were normal, natural. That was a half-truth. The other half was the singing. Soft, off-key, coming from the end of the hall.
Nadia.
I moved toward it without thinking. My steps made no sound. Some habits never faded, no matter how many centuries passed.
When I reached the open doorway, I stopped.
She was in the laundry room, back turned, light from the small window glinting against her beautiful mess of hair. The hum of the dryer filled the quiet. She reached into the basket, lifted a shirt—the new linen one I’d worn yesterday—and brought it to her face.
She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.
For a moment, I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. The bond tightened in my chest. I should have stepped away. Given her privacy. But I stayed. She looked soft there—unguarded in a way she never let herself be when I was near. No armor. No nervous jokes. Just her. And my shirt.
I leaned against the doorframe. “If you needed me closer,” I said quietly, “you only had to ask.”
She gasped and spun around. The shirt slipped from her hands, pooling on the floor. Her face flushed from her throat to her cheekbones.
“Cristian… I—it just… It smells like—laundry,” she said, the words tripping over each other.
“Laundry,” I repeated. “Of course.”
Slowly, I stepped inside. The air was thick with the scent of her, with the warmth radiating off her skin. I could feel the tremor in the bond as it reached for me, wanting more contact.
Her back hit the counter.
“Do I unsettle you, Nadia?” I was in dangerous territory.
Her lips parted. No answer.
Something inside me shifted. Not hunger, the blood-deep craving that ruled my kind. Something else. Want that didn’t demand. Want that waited.
When I first woke, I wanted freedom. Nothing else. But standing here now, watching her—freedom felt like a lesser prize.
I stopped that thought before it went any further.
The silence between us stretched. The shirt lay forgotten. I let my gaze linger—her mouth, her throat, the pulse fluttering beneath her skin. I could have touched her. Kissed her. Claimed what the bond already promised.
I didn’t.
Instead, I lowered my voice. “Next time you want something of mine… just take it.”
Her eyes flicked to mine, wide and uncertain. I stepped back, breaking the pull. The bond resisted, tightening once before it let go.
Control had a taste—metallic and bitter.
I turned and walked out. By the time I reached the stairs, my hands were shaking. My fangs ached, useless things demanding what I refused to take. I gripped the railing until the wood groaned beneath my hand.
I needed the night.
The cool air.
The distance.