Chapter 18
Cristian
The kitchen was quiet except for the sound of the refrigerator and the irritating rustle of Psychology Today. I pretended to read an article titled “Attachment Styles: What Yours Says About You.” Ridiculous. As if any human could categorize the kind of madness that had taken hold of me.
I’d left her room immediately after the taste of her had destroyed me.
I hadn’t wanted to leave her, but if I’d stayed, she would never have gotten rid of me.
I’d have stayed there, wrapped around her for eternity.
Her taste still haunted my mouth, her scent on my hands.
I could close my eyes and summon the sounds she made when she stopped thinking.
Every part of her had taken root in me, and I did not know how to make it stop.
But it had to stop. I was going to break this bond and free her from it.
Free both of us. She would stop wanting me, and I could finally stop pretending that I could be domesticated.
I would free her, then find my gold. Figure out how to free my brother, then destroy the Sovereign Court.
Make them pay. And then I would have the truest freedom I could have in this cursed body.
And Nadia could have it with me, if she chose to. I barely let myself hope.
That was the plan.
Until Nadia walked into the kitchen wearing a striped skirt, a black top, and that little green cardigan with the Teach Peace pin. Her hair was pulled back, and she looked infuriatingly pleased to exist.
She took a seat beside Ezra and huddled over his infernal machine.
The incessant buzz of the laptop competed with Nadia’s laugh. My jaw tightened.
She leaned closer to the screen, all curiosity and wonder, while he explained his ward maintenance protocol. She was enthralled. He was proud of himself. I was considering whether the laptop would survive being hurled through a wall.
Lena was still in the shower upstairs. I envied her solitude, though I could not walk away now, not when Ezra’s knee brushed Nadia’s, and she didn’t move away. She smiled.
In the doorway, I went completely still.
The bond drew tight in my chest, a line pulled too hard. My fangs ached, but not from hunger. It was possessiveness. A primitive, unbecoming thing that I should have learned to master centuries ago.
Her laughter filled the space again, light and warm.
I could feel it. Not just hear it—feel it blooming in my chest like sunlight that contrasted harshly against the hatred brewing for this peasant.
Her happiness made me feel alive. Her happiness that came from someone else made me want to destroy something.
She should be looking at me like that. Laughing because of me.
But I simply watched. The predator in me coiled tight, waiting to see whether the threat would step too close.
Ezra’s hand gestured too near her shoulder. My fingers twitched.
He was harmless. Human. A tinker. A boy playing with wires and calling it magic. Still, the thought of him brushing against her again made my vision go sharp around the edges.
If he leans closer, I shall remove his head from his shoulders.
Nadia laughed at something clever he said—something that clearly wasn’t—when he handed her a small tool of some sort. She nudged his arm.
My nostrils flared. That was enough.
I crossed the kitchen silently. Nadia noticed first. She looked up, beaming, like I hadn’t spent the night silently coming apart because of her. “Hey, you. I was just telling Ezra about accidentally waking you up.”
I did not smile. I didn’t look at Ezra. I looked at her. “Was he… amused?”
Ezra opened his mouth to answer. I silenced him with a look. Nothing threatening. Just a reminder that I wasn’t interested in hearing his voice. I knelt beside Nadia, forcing Ezra to shift back. I took the small, enchanted tool from her hand without asking. Examined it. Pointless contraption.
She frowned a little, noticing the tension. “Cristian, are you okay?”
Her concern softened something I didn’t want softened. “Perfectly well, sweet Nadia.”
She flushed pink. Ezra stared like he’d stumbled into a Greek tragedy.
I set the tool down with care. “Do let me know if you need assistance. Or if your companion becomes… inadequate.”
Ezra muttered, “Charming.”
I was already walking away. In the hallway, I braced a hand against the wall and let out a slow breath.
You are centuries old. You have slain kings. This is beneath you.
And yet, if he touched her again—
I closed my eyes. Tried to think of anything else. The silence. The house. The endless years before her. None of it helped.
I could still taste her. Still feel the way she’d melted against me like I was something worth trusting.
You are not allowed to need her. You are not allowed to love her.
And still, I did.
I paced the hallway like a caged animal. I required a war. A duel. A thunderstorm. Anything other than the sound of Ezra making Nadia laugh again.
The bond thrummed under my skin. Not pain—agitation. It was as if the thing had a will of its own and was irritated that I was losing her attention.
“This is beneath me,” I muttered. “She is a mortal woman. Ezra is… vermin. This should not matter.”
It mattered.
My pacing stopped at the corner of the hall, where the beast sat waiting. The strange, plastic contraption with tubes, bristles, and a long serpentine tail. I had seen it growl the day before while Nadia sang to it and called it her little helper.
She had cleaned the floors with it, smiling, flushed with effort, proud of herself. “This is Herbert, my emotional support vacuum,” she’d said.
I had nodded politely, though I understood none of it.
But now, perhaps it could serve a purpose. Ezra was proving his worth at her side. If he could make himself useful, then so could I. I would conquer this… Herbert.
I approached slowly. “Thou art no match for me,” I told it. “Reveal thy secrets.”
The largest button seemed a promising place to start. I pressed it.
The beast screamed to life.
I leapt back, fists raised. The machine began to move on its own, devouring part of the curtain in one furious gulp.
“Witchcraft,” I hissed, diving forward and seizing the hose. It writhed in my grip like a serpent, flinging dust and threads. My fangs dropped halfway before I could stop them.
It slammed into a table leg. Glass shattered. I yanked the cord from the wall. The noise continued. A light flashed, proclaiming Battery Mode. (Battery mode? I did not understand the rules of its sorcery.)
I did the only logical thing left. I stomped on it.
The creature gave one final shriek and died. Then the transparent belly burst open, releasing a cloud of dirt, hair, and glitter into the air. I stood there, covered in domestic carnage, holding the limp hose like the head of a slain python.
Footsteps.
“Cristian?” Nadia called.
Ezra’s voice followed, muffled by laughter. “What the hell was that?”
They rounded the corner and stopped. Nadia gasped, covering her mouth in horror. Ezra immediately started laughing so hard he bent over.
I looked between them. “This infernal device attacked me.”
“You broke my Shark Pro XL,” Nadia said weakly.
“It roared without provocation.”
Ezra wiped tears from his eyes. “You know it’s not alive, right?”
“Not anymore,” I muttered.
Nadia stepped closer. Her fingers brushed my arm. “You were trying to help, huh?”
I looked at her hand, then her eyes. The warmth there undid something in me. “I merely wished to be… useful.”
Ezra grinned. “This guy needs a YouTube channel.”
I growled low in my throat. Ezra’s grin faltered, though Nadia snorted and tried to hide it behind her hand. The sound twisted in my chest. Not anger. Something heavier. I was not built for this world. Not for these humming machines. Not for her laughter when it wasn’t for me.
You are centuries out of place. She needs someone who doesn’t destroy her machines.
I stepped back, dust and glitter falling from me. “Forgive me. I shall clean this… battlefield.”
She touched my cheek. Glitter stuck to her fingertip. “It’s okay. It’s just a vacuum. I like that you tried.”
That nearly finished me. I swallowed what I wanted to say. Instead, I bent to gather the wreckage, glitter still clinging to my skin.
Behind me, Ezra muttered, “Dude really did go full medieval on it.”
I did not respond. But I filed the phrase away. Full medieval.
I would ask Alexa about it later.
The house was still. The moon lay itself over the floors in silver. Tonight, I paced the length of the hall like a man with no country.
I was meant to be outside, guarding the grounds, working on strategies. I was meant to be pretending that all of this was still within my control. Instead, something in my chest refused to obey.
Check the perimeter. Ensure her safety.
Yet my steps carried me toward her room, drawn by the quiet pull behind my ribs. The insolent bond tugged me down the hall like I was its captive.
This is temporary, I told myself. When the danger ends, when the bond is broken, she will leave, and I will forget.
But the memory of her laughing with Ezra cut through that thought like a blade.
The bond pulsed as I neared her door. Not gentle now, but feral. Every step pulled it tighter, until I could feel it vibrating against my sternum.
The door was cracked open. I told myself that checking on her was only a precaution. I would ensure her safety and leave. That was all.
Then I saw her, curled in the center of the bed, bare legs tangled in the sheets. Wearing my shirt. The linen one she had taken from the laundry. It hung loose on her shoulders, sliding down one arm. The hem barely reached mid-thigh. My shirt, her skin.
My undoing.
I gripped the doorframe so hard the wood creaked. My fangs ached in my jaw. My body went rigid with the kind of restraint that hurts.
I watched the rise and fall of her chest. Watched the soft shape of her mouth as she slept. My pulse matched hers.
One step, I thought. One step forward and I can touch her. Just once.