Chapter 26
Cristian
Nadia’s sleep continued.
Mine did not.
I lay on my back beside her, eyes on the ceiling, every thought circling the same useless questions.
Wait twenty-four hours and trust Ambrosia, a liar who collected secrets the way others collected jewelry. Or sit with Ezra and his infernal machine as he tugged at the bond thread by thread until something snapped and took Nadia with it.
Neither option was acceptable, but they were all I had.
Nadia’s breathing remained slow and a bit uneven. Dark circles had settled under her eyes in recent days. The bond tugged inside my chest, weaker than it should have been, thin and overworked.
The doorbell rang.
I was off the bed in an instant. Nadia stirred, blinking herself awake.
“What was that?” she mumbled, voice rough.
“The door,” I said. “Stay here.”
She pushed the blankets back instead. “Absolutely not.”
She slid out of bed and stood. I watched closely, prepared to catch her if she swayed. She stayed upright. Relief loosened the tension in my shoulders. Perhaps Ezra’s meddling had eased some of the pull. Perhaps my threat to Ambrosia had rattled the universe into cooperating.
A foolish hope, but I took it.
Nadia padded toward the door, bare feet soundless on the floorboards. She wore black nightclothes—a narrow-strapped top and shorts that revealed far too much of her legs—and pulled an oversized cream cardigan hanging open over it.
No pin. No fruit print. No earrings. None of her usual armor. She looked young and exhausted and furious at the world.
We stepped into the hallway together.
“Where the hell is Ezra?” she asked. “He can check the wards and tell us if this is a Girl Scout or a demon.”
The bell rang again. Impatient.
“I’ll find him,” I said.
I swept the downstairs in a heartbeat—kitchen, empty; living room, empty; basement, empty. His laptop sat open on the kitchen table, screen still glowing. No Ezra.
My senses pulled toward the front door. Whoever waited there radiated confidence and power. Vampiric. Familiar.
My jaw tightened.
“I will answer,” I said. “Stay behind me.”
For once, she obeyed.
I opened the door.
A man stepped over the threshold without waiting to be invited, which told me he was not bound by mortal rules—or he believed himself above them.
Human clothes—perfectly tailored slate slacks, open-necked white shirt, sleeves rolled to the forearms. Hair carefully disheveled.
Expensive watch. The faintest trace of the same laundry detergent Nadia used on his cuffs.
He stopped in front of me and took his time looking me over from boots to eyes. His expression gave away nothing. Power bled from him, coiled and familiar.
Behind me, Nadia drew in a sharp breath.
“Hello, Mr. West,” she said, voice too bright. “I didn’t expect you home for several more weeks.”
He did not spare her a glance.
He stalked around me in a slow arc, examining me from every angle as if I were a horse he intended to purchase.
Nadia’s shoulders tensed. “I can explain,” she blurted. “This is just a friend visiting. Short term. Very… short.”
His posture shifted.
Bone and muscle moved under his skin. The glamor peeled away, and the pleasant landlord facade dissolved. His features sharpened. The air chilled. That familiar scent—old stone, winter wind, bitter iron—rose around him.
Nadia’s hand flew to her mouth. “What the hell?”
Cassian stood in the foyer. “Hello, brother,” he said.
One step, and my forearm pressed across his throat, pinning him to the wall hard enough to rattle the frames. My senses roared at the contact—old anger, older grief.
“Where,” I snarled, “have you been?”
His eyes flashed, more annoyed than threatened. His hands stayed loose at his sides.
“I have been busy not being stabbed through the chest with experimental venom,” he rasped. “Release me, and I may elaborate.”
“Three-hundred-and-seventy-five years,” I said through my teeth. “I rotted in a casket while you played house with tyrants. And now you stroll through the door I am sworn to guard as though you own it.”
“I do own it,” he choked. “This is my house, remember? Ask your human, I hired her to house-sit.”
That only fueled my rage.
“Cristian.” Nadia’s voice trembled behind me. “You’re crushing the drywall.”
Cassian tapped my wrist in irritation. “If you want answers, you might ease up on my throat. The dramatic entrance loses effect if you crush my larynx.”
I held him there a heartbeat longer, just to prove I could. Then I eased my arm back.
He rolled his shoulders and tugged his shirt straight, thoroughly unembarrassed. “I was waiting,” he said calmly, “for the right moment.”
“The right—”
“For my entrance,” he continued. “Last night, you stomped through Ambrosia’s boudoir in a state of rare desperation. I considered that a promising sign. I thought I would see what you were up to before the court turned your life further upside down.”
His gaze slid past me to Nadia.
“You look dreadful,” he said, tone abruptly curious.
Nadia blinked. “Excuse me?”
He took a step closer, studying her face. “Dark circles. Slowed pulse. Nerves frayed. Does my house not treat you well? Or is it the vampire you woke from stasis that keeps you awake for all hours?”
I moved before I realized it, closing the space between them until Nadia stood within the circle of my arm. Lena, who must have been lurking in the doorway, gasped.
Cassian’s attention snapped to her.
“Well, hello there,” he said smoothly. “And who might you be?”
Lena froze, the blanket draped around her shoulders slipping slightly. Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
“Oh,” she finally breathed, voice caught somewhere between fear and… interest? She smoothed her hair. “Uhm. Hi. I’m Lena.” A beat. “Are all vampires this stupidly attractive or is this a family discount situation?”
Nadia stiffened beside me. Cassian’s smirk sharpened with delight. Predator entertained by prey that bites back.
Cassian’s attention drifted back to Nadia. “You’re still a human, I see.”
Nadia snapped her attention to him. “What did you expect me to be?”
“A vampire, of course.”
She let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “As if I’d ever become a vampire. Can you—”
She stopped. Her gaze snapped to me. My expression must have betrayed more than I intended. Fury at Cassian, dread for her, guilt pressing against my ribs.
Her voice dropped. “What am I missing?”
Cassian’s smile widened. He was enjoying this far too much. “Oh,” he said, eyes glittering. “You haven’t told her what the bond is doing to her, have you?”
Silence settled over the hallway.
Nadia’s hand tightened around my arm. “Cristian, what is he talking about?”
I could have lied. Bought myself an hour. A day. The length of a breath.
Her heartbeat trembled against the bond, thin and overworked.
Enough.
I turned to face her fully. “The bond does more than pull us together,” I said. “More than share sensation and emotion.”
“What does it do?” Her voice sharpened.
I swallowed down my cowardice.
“Because my life force is… different from yours, the bond reaches for balance,” I said slowly. “Because you are mortal, the bond is too powerful for you.”
“In what way?” she demanded. “Cristian, dumb it down. Speak plainly. I deserve that much.”
“The bond is draining you,” I said. “Slowly. It will continue to do so until we break it. Or until we… equalize it.”
She stared at me. The color drained from her face.
“Equalize,” she repeated. “You mean—”
“If we do nothing,” I forced myself to continue, “it will kill you. Eventually. If we get to that point, the only way to save you is to make you immortal.”
I let the truth hang there. She took a step back.
“So you’re saying,” she said carefully, “that the only way out of this, if you can’t break it, is for me to become a fucking vampire?”
“Yes,” I said. “That is one of two choices. The other is dying.”
She laughed brokenly, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I did not sign up for this, Cristian. I signed up to water plants and not get poisoned by weird old plumbing. I woke you up by accident. Now you’re telling me the options are eternal night or an early grave?”
“I am trying to find another way—”
“How long have you known?” she cut in, voice shaking. “Exactly how long have you known this was killing me and not told me?”
“A few days,” I said, the words scraping my throat.
Her mouth fell open. Hurt flared across her face—bright, raw, far worse than any physical blow.
“Days,” she whispered. “You’ve known for days.”
“I did not want to worry you,” I said. “I wanted to solve it first. To protect you from the fear until I had something useful to offer.”
“Protect me,” she repeated, softer now, and somehow that was worse. “You don’t get to decide which truths I can handle, Cristian. You don’t get to choose my fear.”
I stepped toward her. “Nadia—”
She flinched back before I could reach her.
Cassian watched, eyes gleaming with clinical interest.
The front door opened again.
Ezra stepped inside, holding a twelve-pack of beer, Nadia’s keys dangling from one finger. He took three confident strides, looked up, saw Cassian, and went white.
“Shit,” he breathed.
Cassian’s gaze snapped to him. His lips curled.
“What is this idiot doing here?” Cassian asked. “Are you the reason Nadia looks to be one breath away from the afterlife?”
Ezra set the beer down very carefully, then held his hands up in surrender. “No. It’s not—I’m not—”
In a flash, Cassian had him pinned to the wall, fingers wrapped around his throat.
“Are you telling the truth?” Cassian asked, voice almost pleasant, eager for a kill.
Ezra’s pulse thundered against his grip. His hands came up in surrender. “Yes. I don’t work for them anymore. I’ve been trying to fix what they did. What I did. I’m—” He coughed. “On your side now.”
“Cassian,” I muttered in annoyance. “Let him breathe.”
Cassian did not look away from Ezra. “He helped the court build their little web. He does not get mercy because he grew a conscience five minutes ago.”