Chapter 23 – Cassini
CASSINI
The sight of her crumpled against the filthy bathroom wall, unconscious and bruised, sends something feral clawing up from the depths of my chest. I should have sensed her distress sooner—should have been here before this piece of shit even breathed in her direction.
She asked for space, but that’s not the reason it took so long.
My abilities are dulling, weakening faster than ever, and now she’s paid the price for my negligence.
The bathroom reeks of stale beer and piss, but all I can smell is her fear lingering in the air like smoke. The music from the main bar might as well be on another planet. All I can hear is the rush of blood in my ears and this bastard’s pathetic whimpering as he tries to back away.
Not a fucking chance.
A guttural noise rips through me, my hands clamped on his throat, crushing until sinew and cartilage grind under my palms. Each ragged breath he manages drives my fingers deeper, tightening around his windpipe like a boa constrictor tasting the panic of its prey.
I bare my fangs and lean close enough to see every single one of his sweat-soaked pores, my voice a growl against his skin.
“You will not touch what is mine.”
His feet scrabble uselessly, dangling above the ground as I haul him up by his throat. His bloodshot eyes bulge with terror, silently begging as his mouth works like a caught fish—lips forming desperate shapes that produce nothing but a wet, pathetic rasp.
“You feel that?” I hiss, my voice barely above a whisper. “That’s centuries of power coursing through these fingers. You’re nothing but a leech to someone with my bloodline. A pathetic little pest buzzing for scraps. I could crush you to dust if I wanted to.”
His hands flutter frantically against my forearms, nails scraping uselessly at granite-hard muscle as he tries to pry himself free. It’s like watching a church mouse try to topple a cathedral.
Newbloods. They’re always so overconfident.
When his bony fingers scrape against my bicep, searching for something to grab, I snatch his wrist and wrench it backward until his knuckles kiss his forearm. The wet snap of bone echoes through the corridor like a gunshot, followed by his breathless shriek of agony.
He whimpers pathetically, but it just makes me push harder.
“You like it, don’t you?” I snarl, my words dripping out slowly like molasses. “The fear in their eyes. The pain on their faces. Tell me something. How does it feel to be the prey for once?”
His pulse hammers against my palm like a caged bird. I can smell his sweat, his desperation, the sour stench of a predator suddenly stripped of all power.
“You’ve spent so long hunting the vulnerable,” I continue, “but you forgot something crucial—there are always bigger monsters.”
Cass…stop
“Lucky for you, I’m feeling generous tonight.
So here’s what’s going to happen,” I hiss.
“You’re going to crawl out of here and never come within a hundred miles of her.
You’re going to spread the word that she’s under my protection.
She is not to be touched. And if I ever—ever—see you near her again, I’ll make sure you spend the rest of eternity learning what real pain feels like.
I will bind you in silver and put you in a place where no one will ever find you.
Trust me. Lay a finger on her again, and I’ll have you begging for the final death. ”
I release him, and he drops to the floor, coughing and clutching his throat. Smart enough not to retaliate, at least.
“I-I didn’t know she belonged to anyone,” he stammers. His expression is shell-shocked and vacant, and his voice carries only pure, unbridled terror. “I’m s-sorry.”
If Lily were not right there, I would have torn his spine out of his body, but something stopped me. The idea that she’d see me like that and see what I was truly capable of was too much.
Cass, please…
He scrambles away without another word, leaving me alone with Lily in the bathroom. When I turn to see her collapsed body, I soften immediately.
“My darling, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” I crouch to comfort her, but her tear-streaked face twists the knife in my chest.
When I reach out to touch her, she flinches—and the last traces of red mist clear in an instant.
I’ve terrified her. She’s looking up at me with those bottomless eyes, blinking away a steady stream of tears. Her whole body shaking like she’s afraid to be alone with me, like she’s already questioning every choice that brought her here.
“Amore,” I breathe, pulling her to my chest slowly like she’s a wounded animal. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m okay,” she mumbles into my shirt, but her voice is wavering. “I’m okay now.”
But she’s not okay. I can see it in the way she’s desperately holding herself together, the tremor in her hands giving her away. This is my fault. I brought her here, pushed her to use her brittle abilities in a place full of predators, and now she’s paying the price.
“I need to get you home.”
She nods, so I wrap my arm around her waist and lift her off the ground, scooping her up like a sleeping baby. She curls inward, and it triggers my protective instincts. How small and fragile she is against me. How easily she could be broken.
When I lay her gently into the passenger seat of the Maserati and buckle her seatbelt, she makes a tiny noise of thanks. I push her hair away from her forehead and plant a tender kiss on her brow before closing the door.
We drive in silence, and when we reach her place, I notice it immediately—a familiar scent that doesn’t belong. Sweet, almost cloying. Like cotton candy. Human, but one that’s been around vampires long enough to carry their essence.
A familiar. I don’t recognize it from the Hollow, but I’m certain it’s Lazaro’s work.
I should have known to expect this eventually, but even still, hot rage creeps up my neck and into my cheek.
They’ve found her. Someone from the Sixth has been here, in her sanctuary, probably while we were out tonight.
Sniffing around, mapping the territory, letting me know they can reach her anywhere.
Lily doesn’t notice my reaction as I unlock her front door and carry her inside.
She’s still too shaken and I’m grateful for that.
She has enough to worry about without knowing her home has been violated.
And if she sees me lose it again, I’m not sure I’ll be able to handle that look on her face.
The one that reflects back at me and reminds her I’m a violent monster.
An irredeemable dead creature filled with insatiable thirst, incandescent rage, and supernatural strength.
I leave her in the bathroom, slumped on the ground with the taps running a bath whilst I check the house, discreetly sniffing the air looking for traces of the human smell that lingers.
Whoever was here came through the back door and has been through the whole place. The scent trails from room to room, lingering near drawers and cabinets, as if the intruder was looking for something.
The scent is strongest in her bedroom, and when I peel back her blush-pink bed covers, a mist of Lily’s scent disperses and almost knocks me off balance.
She truly is the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted or smelled.
Every inch of her is a perfect sensory wonderland, begging to be tasted.
And to know that a stranger was here, in the place she feels safe enough to sleep makes me burn with deep fervor.
I lift her pillow to my nostrils to take a deep sniff, and the scent has traces of familiarity, but I can’t place it right now.
It’s cloying, sweet, and with an undertone of something repulsive.
Like a candy cane laced with tooth decay.
I commit the scent to memory and replace the pillow in the exact spot I found it.
If it’s the last thing I do, I plan on chasing down its source like a bloodhound with a vendetta.
When I return to the bathroom, Lily hasn’t moved from the spot where I left her. Slow, heavy breaths rattle through her motionless body, which remains folded on the tiles. Her glassy, vacant eyes stare into space. Her condition appears to have worsened in the few minutes I’ve been gone.
“Fiore,” I say softly. “I’m going to take care of you, okay?”
The bathtub is almost full, so I shut off the taps and test the water with the back of my hand, making sure it’s not too hot for her.
Stacked along the ceramic edge are mismatched jars of colorful salts and soaks, each capped with a wooden lid.
I grab a fistful of rose and chamomile-scented pebbles and scatter them across the steaming water.
“Easy now,” I say, lifting her off the tile and propping her on wobbly legs. “The water will be good for you, my love.” I kiss her hands and back away toward the door, still holding them. “I’ll give you some space, but I’ll be right outside the door, I promise. I’m not going anywhere.”
Her trembling hands grip mine, and she shakes her head defiantly. “No,” she croaks. “I want you to stay.”
These are the first words she’s spoken aloud since the bar, and even though it’s hoarse, her voice sounds like sweet music to my ears.
“Then I’ll stay.”
She sways against me, her hands fumbling at the hem of her dress. I watch her try to lift it over her head, but her arms tremor so badly she can barely manage to raise them. After a moment, she drops her hands to her sides in defeat.
“I can’t…” she whispers, her voice so small I almost miss it. “My hands won’t stop shaking.”
She gapes up at me, and I see a flicker of trust warring with caution.
“Will you help me?” The words come out barely audible, like she’s afraid to ask.
“Of course, amore.” I keep my voice gentle, and I reach for the zipper at the back of her dress. “I’ve got you.”