Chapter 16 #2
Vivian shuddered the moment they connected, her back arching involuntarily. I forced myself to stay focused. For me, it was second nature. For her? It was probably invasive. She wasn’t used to shadows swirling around her, probing her aura.
Her knees buckled slightly, and a small, involuntary gasp escaped her lips. “What are they doing?”
“They’re searching. Your aura must align with mine for the bond to form.”
Her chest rose and fell as though the very atmosphere had thickened around her. Her fists clenched tightly, her knuckles going white. Then she gasped—a sharp, broken sound that tore through me like a blade.
“It feels… wrong.”
“It’s not supposed to feel normal,” I said automatically, though my stomach churned. “Stay still. They’re almost done.”
I began to chant along with the officiant, the ancient, guttural words spilling from my lips. They filled the chamber with a thrumming energy, a weight that pressed down on both of us. The shadows pulsed in rhythm with the chant, weaving themselves deeper into her essence.
And then she screamed.
Not a cry, not a gasp—a full-blown scream. Her legs gave out completely, and I caught her before she hit the floor. She trembled violently, her breathing shallow and erratic. Her pain hit me like a hammer, cracking through every wall I’d built.
“Stop,” I roared. My arms tightened around her, shielding her from the shadows that still writhed around us. “Stop the ritual!”
“It is too late to stop,” the officiant said calmly. “If the ritual is not completed, she will die.”
“Why is it hurting her?” I demanded. “It’s not supposed to hurt.”
“She’s human. Her body was not made to endure this. But there is no alternative. The bond must be forged.”
Hatred for the man surged through me as he continued chanting, but it was nothing compared to the hatred I felt for myself. This is your fault. You’re putting her through this.
Her head lolled against my shoulder. “Raffaele… it hurts.”
I cradled her closer, pressing my lips to her hair without thinking. “I know,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
Her trembling hand reached up weakly, clutching at my arm. “I… I can’t—”
“Yes, you can,” I insisted. I urged the shadows to move faster, their tendrils racing toward her heart. It was agony for her, I could see that, but the sooner it was done, the sooner it would be over.
Her body convulsed as the shadows wrapped around her heart, locking our energies together in the final step of the ritual. She cried out, and I gritted my teeth against the instinct to rip the shadows away. If I stopped now, she wouldn’t survive.
The chanting stopped, and a heavy silence fell over the room, broken only by Vivian’s ragged breathing. I pulled her tighter against me, feeling the uneven thrum of her heartbeat. Her skin was clammy, her body utterly limp in my arms.
“It is done,” the officiant said. “The bond has been established. You are now one body. One soul. Even death cannot part you.”
A dark mark began to form on the nape of her neck, swirling like smoke trapped beneath her skin. It pulsed faintly, and I felt an identical sigil crawling up my own neck. I kissed her neck, the gesture automatic, desperate.
Her head lolled, and a single tear slipped down her cheek. Without thinking, I kissed it away, brushing my lips against her damp skin. I hated myself in that moment with a depth I hadn’t thought possible. I had sworn never to drag anyone into my darkness. And yet, I had bound her to it.
To me.
I carried her out of the chamber, her weight frighteningly light in my arms. Her breathing was labored, but at least she was breathing. The bond was forged, but the cost? It was too much.
I had won her life. But in doing so, I had sacrificed whatever sliver of my own soul still remained. And I’d never forgive myself.
Each step toward her room felt heavier than the last, a weight pressing on my chest that grew with every breath. I didn’t care. About anyone. Ever.
I didn’t do concern. I’d never bothered feeling for anyone or anything before. And yet, here I was, every instinct in me screaming to get her somewhere safe. Somewhere warm. Somewhere where she wouldn’t be teetering on the edge of the void I had shoved her toward.
The door to her room loomed ahead like a silent sentinel, and I kicked it open with more force than necessary. I carried her inside, cradling her limp body, her head lolling on my shoulder.
I laid her gently on the bed. The mattress barely shifted under her frail form.
She didn’t move, didn’t make a sound. Her hair clung to her damp forehead, her lips parted slightly as she struggled to breathe.
I clenched my jaw as I pulled the blanket over her and tucked it around her like armor against the cold air. But it wasn’t enough. Not like this.
I moved quickly, scanning the room for anything that might give her comfort. My eyes landed on a clean pair of cotton pajamas folded neatly on top of the dresser. I grabbed them and returned to the bed, the weight in my chest growing heavier as I knelt beside her.
The oil on her skin glistened in the low light. It wouldn’t be right to leave her like that, considering the oil had burned her. Setting the pajamas aside, I fetched a basin of warm water and a clean cloth, determined to make this easier for her.
With slow, measured strokes, I washed the oil from her arms, her neck, the curve of her shoulders, and down her legs, careful not to jostle her too much.
She remained silent, her breathing still too shallow, but I told myself that any relief I could give her mattered.
Once that was done, I took a jar of healing lotion.
It would soothe any inflammation or tenderness.
I smoothed it over every inch of her, working it into her muscles, hoping it would ease her pain.
When I was done, her skin felt warmer, and I dared to think she looked just the smallest bit more at peace.
My hands moved with a care I hadn’t known I possessed as I slid the loose-fitting shirt over her head.
I guided her arms through the sleeves as though she were made of glass because the thought of her shattering under my touch haunted me.
When I reached for the pants, slipping them gently up her legs and over her hips, her head lolled to the side, and a pained groan escaped her lips.
I froze. “Vivian,” I said softly, leaning closer. “Can you hear me?”
Her eyelids fluttered, her lashes trembling like wings against her pale skin. Slowly, she turned her head, her hazy, unfocused gaze finding mine through the fog of her pain.
“I thought you said it wouldn’t hurt,” she rasped.
The guilt hit me like a physical blow. You did this. You put her through this. Before I could answer, her body jerked suddenly, and she turned to the side, retching violently over the edge of the bed.
I moved instinctively, holding her steady with one arm while the other brushed her hair away from her face. The sound of her retching scraped at something deep and unguarded inside me. It was agony to hear her like this and know I was the reason for it.
When she finally stilled, I scooped her into my arms and carried her to the bathroom. I set her down on the edge of the tub, steadying her against the wall. She leaned heavily into me and rested her head against my shoulder.
I ran a washcloth under cold water, the sharp chill biting into my fingers. Kneeling before her, I pressed the damp cloth to her forehead, brushing it gently over her clammy skin. I wiped away the sweat and tears streaking her face, each pass of the cloth an unspoken apology.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured. The words felt hollow and inadequate, but they were all I had. “The ritual isn’t supposed to cause any discomfort. It wasn’t supposed to hurt you.”
Her lips twitched, and for a moment, I thought she might cry. But instead, she let out a weak scoff. “It’s a little more than just discomfort,” she whispered, her voice trembling with the effort.
I didn’t smile back. I couldn’t. My failure had crushed any semblance of levity. I brushed her hair behind her ear, my hand lingering on her cheek. Her skin was warmer now, her breathing a fraction steadier, but it wasn’t enough to temper the storm raging inside me.
“You being human must’ve made it worse. Apparently, it’s not meant to be done on someone like you.”
Her eyelids fluttered, and for a moment, it looked like she might respond. But then her body sagged forward, her strength giving out entirely.
“Vivian,” I said sharply, shaking her gently. “Stay with me.”
She groaned softly, her head lolling against my chest. I cradled her like she was something precious—fragile, irreplaceable. The thought terrified me, but I didn’t shove it away this time as I carried her back to the bed.
I tucked her in again, pulling the blankets up to her chin.
She murmured incoherently under her breath, her voice little more than a breath, and then she went still.
Too still. My heart clenched painfully, and my fingers twitched at my sides as I leaned closer.
I pressed two fingers under her nose, waiting, praying for the warmth of her breath.
When I felt it, relief flooded through me. But it was fleeting. She was alive, but barely.
I knelt next to the bed, my head bowed, staring at her pale, fragile form. Each rise and fall of her chest felt like a lifeline, but it wasn’t enough. I had done this to her. My shadows, my will, had nearly broken her. And for what? A bond she hadn’t asked for, an alliance she had no say in.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I should’ve left. Should’ve walked out of the room and let her sleep off the worst of it. But I stayed rooted to the floor, my chest aching every time I thought of leaving her alone. My hands curled into fists at my sides as I forced myself to take a steadying breath.
Before I realized what I was doing, I climbed into the bed beside her, careful not to disturb her. The mattress dipped under my weight. I held my breath, waiting for her to stir.
She didn’t.
I turned on my side, watching her in the faint light that filtered through the curtains. Her breathing was steadier now, her features softening as sleep claimed her fully. Hesitantly, I brushed my fingers against the edge of the blanket as if to reassure myself she was still there. Still alive.
Why do you care? The thought echoed again, louder this time, but I had no answer. All I knew was that leaving her alone tonight felt impossible.
My gaze drifted to the mark on her neck, the swirling sigil that bound her to me. It pulsed faintly, a reminder of the power I held over her—and the responsibility that came with it. The bond was permanent, unbreakable.
I closed my eyes, letting out a slow, shuddering breath as I settled into the bed. Whatever this was—this strange, unwelcome concern—I would deal with it later. For now, I would stay.
And if I found myself counting the rise and fall of her chest until sleep finally claimed me, well… no one else had to know.