Chapter 17
Nadia
Cristian didn’t stop moving until every lock clicked into place. The door. The deadbolt. The chain. The sound was strangely comforting. It meant we were safe.
My heart was beating like a drumline, but when I looked at him—shoulders taut, eyes scanning every shadow—something inside me eased. I didn’t question his will to keep me safe. And that was… new. Trust wasn’t exactly my spiritual gift.
Lena sat on the couch, wrapped in a blanket. Her mascara had gone full raccoon, and she was clutching a wineglass like it was the last lifeboat on the Titanic. Her voice came out hoarse. “Why didn’t you kill them?”
Cristian blinked once, slow and steady. “They’re almost impossible to kill.”
Lena’s brows pulled together. “You didn’t even try.”
He stayed infuriatingly calm. “It’s… complicated.”
I stepped in before she could push further. “You said you’re stronger than them. Faster. So why can’t you?”
Cristian exhaled, the sound heavy. “Because strength doesn’t matter when they’re bound together.
The members of the court share life force, and that constant exchange makes them nearly impossible to destroy.
And if one is killed successfully, the rest begin to rot from within until the energy is replenished by adding another. And if more fall, the rest collapse.”
Lena rubbed her temples. “So… kill them all at once?”
His gaze hardened. “I can’t. One of them is my brother.”
That stopped everything.
Cristian’s expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes did—a flare of old grief or anger, I couldn’t tell. “He’s low in their ranks,” he said. “Dependent on their shared power. If I kill any of them, he’ll be the first to die.”
Realization hit me. “So, they want you to join their fucked-up vampire MLM? Drink the juice, join the cult, make them even more powerful?”
His lips twitched. “That is a crude summary,” he said dryly, “but not inaccurate.”
My stomach sank. “Then why can’t they just use someone else? Why you?”
Cristian shook his head. “Most vampires cannot survive that kind of bond. They drain more than they give. The court knows I would strengthen the link, not weaken it. I am the power they want to keep them eternal.”
“That’s…” I searched for the right word. “Super messed up.”
He gave a humorless half-smile. “An apt description.”
A quiet voice broke in from the corner. “You’re not wrong.”
We turned. Ezra—formerly chained, now very much free and awkwardly perched near the kitchen island—lifted a hand. “I can vouch for the super messed-up part.”
Cristian’s expression didn’t change, but the atmosphere in the room became tighter.
Ezra went on anyway. “They recruited me in my early twenties. I have this rare ability to read and manipulate magical frequencies, so I got fast-tracked to help their old asses with tech. At first, it was just a job—enchantment systems, bloodline alarms, warding grids—but it didn’t take long to see what they were actually doing. ”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Controlling people. Draining them. They called it maintaining balance. But really, they wanted a monopoly on power, blood, and information. I built things for them. Traps. Detectors. I made files on every supernatural with potential.” He grimaced.
“Basically, I helped digitize oppression.”
Despite the tension, Lena snorted. “Wow. You made a vampire LinkedIn.”
Ezra gave her a weak smile. “Yeah. Except instead of endorsements, people got abducted.”
Cristian stayed silent, but his hands flexed at his sides, and I knew he was fighting the urge to pace.
Ezra took a breath. “I didn’t speak up for a long time. Told myself to follow orders, keep my head down, and earn my money. We all need money, you know? Then they took her.” He nodded toward Lena. “I was assigned to monitor her. And something snapped. I couldn’t keep pretending.”
He met Cristian’s gaze. “I tried to help her escape. I failed. Then you showed up.”
Lena squeezed his hand. “He really did try to help me.”
Cristian’s jaw twitched. “He’s still breathing, which means I’m choosing to assume that’s true. For now.”
Ezra squared his shoulders. “I know how they work. Their wards. Their power channels. I might be able to find a way to cut them off—to kill them without triggering the decay that would kill your brother.”
Cristian’s eyes narrowed in thought, though he seemed skeptical. “That would be useful.”
Something in him shifted then. I could see it—the barest unclenching of his shoulders.
“All right then,” I said, pulling my cardigan tighter. “Let’s all get some rest. Tomorrow, we figure out how to kill the immortal vampire mafia.”
Lena raised her glass. “To healthy coping mechanisms.”
Cristian muttered, “You people are exhausting.”
But when I caught his eye, there was the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth—an almost-smile that told me he didn’t really mind.
“All right, Ezra, follow me. Time for the grand tour of my summer anxiety palace.”
I gave Ezra the full house tour, because apparently I was now running a bed-and-breakfast for the supernaturally traumatized.
“Okay,” I said, gesturing down the hall, “that’s the linen closet—don’t open the door too fast, or you’ll get concussed by a rogue mop.
The guest rooms are on this side. The office upstairs has my printer, and it sounds like a dying moose, so don’t be too alarmed.
Oh, and the Wi-Fi sometimes drops if you breathe too loud. ”
Ezra followed me, his hands shoved in his pockets, looking around like he expected the walls to start whispering. “This place is…” He paused, eyes tracking the antique portraits that lined the staircase. “Fucking creepy. It must be such a fun place to stay for the summer.”
“Oh, totally. It’s like living in a murder mystery, but with worse lighting.”
We stopped outside the master bedroom at the end of the hall. The heavy oak door loomed like it had opinions.
“And this,” I said, lowering my voice, “is the one room no one goes in. Like, ever. It’s off-limits.”
Ezra cocked an eyebrow. “What’s in there?”
“I assume it’s where the bodies are hidden, but I don’t want to know. Plausible deniability and all that,” I said. “Moving on.”
By the time we looped back to the kitchen, Lena was sitting at the counter, nursing a cup of tea, while Cristian leaned against the far counter. The tension in the room was so thick, it was like wading through a swamp.
Ezra laughed under his breath. “Seriously though, this house gives off haunted energy. You’re brave for staying here alone.”
“Oh, I’m not alone,” I said lightly. “I have Cristian.”
“Comforting,” Ezra said, touching my arm.
It was a casual gesture, except Cristian went completely still. His eyes locked on Ezra’s hand like a laser sight. Nothing else moved, not even his breath.
I pretended not to notice, laughing a little too loudly as I moved to the fridge. “Okay! Food. You both must be starving. I’ll make something—”
Cristian’s hand brushed mine. “Let them handle food,” he said softly. “I need a word with you.”
There wasn’t force in his touch, only insistence, and something in his tone made me follow before I could decide if I wanted to.
“Cristian—”
He didn’t answer until we reached my bedroom. He closed the door behind us with careful precision, then turned to face me.
“I don’t like that he touched you,” he said. His voice wasn’t sharp this time; it was quiet, almost uncertain.
“What?”
His eyes stayed on mine. “We don’t know him. We don’t know what he’s capable of. You’ve already been hurt once because of me. I won’t risk it again.”
His voice was full of something that sounded more like guilt than jealousy, and it caught me off guard.
I tried to laugh, but it came out thin. “He’s not dangerous, Cristian. He tried to save Lena. He’s probably still traumatized from it.”
Cristian’s jaw flexed. “Na?veté is not a virtue, Nadia.”
“Excuse me?”
“You cannot decide someone is trustworthy simply because they have kind eyes and poor posture.”
I folded my arms. “That’s not what I—okay, maybe a little. But he seems decent.”
He exhaled through his nose, slow and measured. “Evil rarely announces itself at the door. It waits until you’ve offered tea.”
I stared at him. “That’s weirdly poetic and very paranoid.”
“I have lived long enough to earn both.”
He scanned me for signs that I might shatter. The tension in his shoulders softened slightly, but the worry remained.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
That threw me. I’d never had a man ask me that without an ulterior motive. It sounded like he actually cared.
“I’m fine,” I said, though my voice betrayed the tremor under it. “Thank you. For saving Lena. For keeping me safe.”
He stepped closer. The bond between us—whatever this thing was—unraveled and rewove all at once. My heart was too loud.
“Cristian…”
He reached up, brushing a strand of hair from my lip. His fingers stopped halfway. His jaw flexed, restraint written into every line of his body.
“If I start,” he said quietly, “I’m not sure I will be able to stop.”
It wasn’t a threat. It was a confession.
“Good to know,” I said, surprised that my voice was steady despite the pandemonium in my chest.
His gaze held mine. “Contact?”
“Yes.”
The word barely left my mouth before he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me against him. His mouth claimed mine, patient at first, then desperate. The kiss was anything but gentle. All the tension that had built between us—every look, every touch—snapped like a live wire.
My hands slid up his hard chest, feeling the strength beneath. The world outside the door didn’t exist anymore. There was only the warmth of his body, the hum of the bond, and the thrilling thought that maybe I didn’t want to fight this.
There was nothing hesitant in him now, only purpose and a hunger that made my entire body tremble.
Cristian deepened the kiss until I forgot what air was. He was all I needed. My fingers tangled in his shirt, dragging him closer. The sound that left me wasn’t graceful; it was need made audible.