Chapter 13 #2
The word made her stomach and chest clench in equal measure.
Muriel collapsed on the bed, finally surrendering to the tears. Great, gasping sobs racked her whole body. The Codex, which she'd somehow brought upstairs with her, hummed gently beside her as if offering comfort.
Because the Codex had known too.
That vision it had shown her—all those keeper women and their mate bonds—it hadn't been a warning. It had been an explanation. A this is your legacy, this is your fate message.
But what about choice? What about free will? Didn’t she have the right to decide who she gave her heart to?
She could feel Brandon lashing out below her. Felt his anguish like it was her own. The urge to go to him and to make things right was almost overwhelming.
But she couldn't trust those impulses anymore. Couldn't trust anything she felt, especially when it came to him.
Would she ever know what was real?
Her phone vibrated on the nightstand with a text message from Brandon.
Brandon: I'll be downstairs if you need anything. I'm not going to force you to talk to me, but... I'm here. Whenever you're ready.
Muriel pulled a pillow over her face and let herself break completely. Let herself mourn the trust she'd been building, the hope she'd been nurturing, the future she'd started to imagine.
All of it was gone now.
Outside the window, storm clouds gathered in response to her grief. Rain began to fall—soft at first, then harder. A downpour that matched the tears streaming down her face.
And through it all, the mate bond hummed between them. Permanent. Unbreakable.
A reminder that no matter how far she ran, they’d always be connected.
Hours later, when the tears had finally stopped and exhaustion had settled into her bones, Muriel sat up and stared at the wall.
She wanted to go home.
Home to Shenandoah, to her cottage with its wild gardens and greenhouse sanctuary. Back to the life she'd had before opening the Codex, before Silas Corvus appeared at her door, and before she'd come to Brandon for help.
She could pack her bag right now and be in her own bed by dawn. Pretend none of this had happened.
Except she couldn't.
She was angry and hurt but she wasn’t stupid. Had she stayed in Shenandoah, she’d likely be in the hands of the Collectors by now. Like it or not, Brandon had probably saved her life.
But at what cost?
No, running away to lick her wounds wasn’t feasible.
The Collectors were still hunting her. Every uncontrolled surge broadcasted her location like a beacon, and given the emotional storm raging through her right now, she’d be lighting up the sky without Brandon’s magical guardrails holding it in place.
Corvus would find her. The Magisterial Consilium would send others. They wouldn't stop until they had the Codex—and her.
Brandon had said the bond was permanent, but would it be as effective at long distances as it was in proximity?
The thought made her chest tighten with frustrated rage. Even her escape routes were stolen from her. She was trapped—by danger, by circumstance, and a mate bond she'd never asked for.
No. Not trapped. Just... limited in options.
Muriel pulled the Codex into her lap, seeking comfort from the only thing that had been hers before Brandon had complicated everything. The ancient grimoire warmed under her touch, and more images filtered through her mind.
They weren’t the violent visions of hunters and fleeing keepers this time. These were gentler. A woman with her eyes, standing in a moonlit garden with a man whose face was obscured by shadow. The woman's hand in his. Their magic spiraling together—green and blue, earth and sky, perfectly balanced.
Another image: a different woman, same hazel green eyes, same delicate features. She stood beside a broad-shouldered figure wreathed in darkness, but his energy was protective, not threatening. His hand was on the small of her back as they faced approaching danger, together.
More keepers. More shadowy figures.
More protectors.
The realization hit her like cold water. In every vision the Codex had shown her, there had been shadowy figures in the background. She'd assumed they were threats. But looking at them now through the lens of what she'd learned about mate bonds... what if they weren't enemies?
What if they were like Brandon—bound to their keeper mates, protecting them?
Some bonds are written in stars and sealed in blood.
The woman from her vision had said that. Not as a warning, but as an explanation. This was the pattern. This was the legacy. Keeper witches and their mate-bonded protectors, generation after generation.
Which meant...
Muriel's mind skittered away from the thought before it could fully form. She wasn't ready to examine that possibility. Wasn't ready to consider that maybe the bond wasn't the betrayal she'd named it.
But another thought crept in, unwelcome and persistent.
Her mother had been heartbroken her entire life. Muriel had always assumed it was because her father had used her and abandoned her.
But what if... What if her mother's grief hadn't been based in betrayal at all? What if she'd been mourning a mate bond severed by loss?
No. Muriel pushed the thought away. She wasn't ready for that either. She couldn't afford to let sympathy for Brandon or doubts about her father's story soften her anger. That anger was the only thing keeping her upright right now.
She needed information. Real, factual, unbiased information about mate bonds. How they formed, what they meant, whether they could be broken. She needed to understand what had been done to her before she could decide what to do about it.
And she needed space from Brandon to figure it out. The bond between them hummed with his emotions—guilt and grief and desperate need. It pulled at her, urging her to go to him, comfort him, make things right.
How could she trust any impulse when she didn't know which ones were hers?
Muriel stood, moving to the window. Dawn was still hours away, but the vampires would be awake. And Armand's library...
Brandon had said Armand was a scholar of ancient magic. If anyone had information about mate bonds—real information, not folklore or romance—it would be him.
And Ana would be there. Ryssa. Maybe even Tedi. Women who understood what it meant to be bound to powerful supernatural beings. Women who might understand what she was going through.
The more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea. The Masterson estate was safe, protected by vampire guards and ancient wards. Brandon had said as much when they'd visited. She could stay there while she researched and processed and figured out what came next.
Before she could second-guess herself, Muriel pulled her phone from the nightstand and opened her messages.
Muriel: Ana, I know it's late. I'm sorry. Are you awake?
The response came almost immediately.
Ana: I’m married to a vampire What's wrong?
Muriel's fingers trembled as she typed.
Muriel: I have a huge favor to ask. Can I come to the estate? It’s important. I need to understand some things.
Three dots appeared, disappeared, appeared again.
Ana: Alone?
Muriel: Yes.
Ana: Of course. Come now. I'll send Zarek for you. Bring whatever you need to stay as long as you like.
Relief flooded through her so intense it made her dizzy.
Muriel: Thank you.
Muriel set down the phone and started packing. Clothes, toiletries, her mother's amber necklace. The Codex went into her satchel.
She was zipping her bag when she heard Brandon entering the apartment.
She opened the door but kept her hand on the frame, creating a barrier between them. Brandon looked as wrecked as she felt. He paused when he saw her, his eyes latching on her bag.
“I'm going to the Masterson estate,” she said before he could speak. “I need space. I need to understand what this bond means before I can—” Her voice caught. “Before I can figure out what comes next.”
Pain flashed across his face, but he nodded. “I understand. I know you don't want to hear this right now, but you need to be careful. The Collectors are still—”
“I know.” She cut him off, not unkindly. “But the Masterson estate is safe. You said so yourself.”
“Yes. You'll be safe there.” He stepped back, giving her room. “I'll strengthen the wards here too. Just in case you want to come back.”
“I need you to promise me something,” Muriel said. “Don’t follow me to the estate. Give me time and space to figure this out. Can you do that?”
Every line of his body radiated refusal. “I can’t promise that. Armand and I are working together on this. But I will promise not to bother you while I’m there. If that’s what you really want.”
“It is.” He looked so miserable, she had an overwhelming urge to reach out to touch his hand and offer some small comfort. But she caught herself.
Muriel picked up her bag and brushed past him, heading for the stairs. She could feel his eyes on her back, feel his anguish through the bond. Part of her wanted to turn around, forget everything, and forgive him.
Which was exactly why she needed to leave.
At the bottom of the stairs, she paused. “Brandon?”
“Yes?”
“Tell me honestly. Can the bond be broken?”
Silence stretched between them. Then, quietly: “Not that I know of. But if you want it broken... I'll find a way.”
The words should have brought comfort. Instead, they just made her chest ache more.
Muriel nodded once and waited inside the door for Zarek, feeling more lost than ever.
Behind her, she felt Brandon watching over her protectively, devastated but steady, giving her the space she'd demanded even though he clearly wasn’t happy about it.
Maybe he was telling the truth. That this wasn’t his choice, and he’d had only her best interests at heart.
Or maybe that was just the bond talking, making her want to trust him even when that trust had been shattered.
Either way, she'd find out the truth. In Armand's library, surrounded by centuries of knowledge and women who understood supernatural bonds, she'd learn to distinguish what was real and what was magical compulsion.
Then—only then—would she decide what to do about the mage who'd stolen her choice, right along with her heart.
Even if part of her had apparently wanted him to.