Chapter 10 #2
I poured the remaining thread of my focus into the last cage. Heat wrapped around it, steady and relentless. The poison twisted, then finally began to unravel, fragment by fragment, until nothing remained but the echo of its presence.
I checked the pathways around her core again.
Clearer. Still bruised. Still raw. But no longer clogged with that oily corruption.
Raven drew a long, deeper breath. Her shoulders slumped, some of the tension draining from her frame.
“I can feel my magic again,” she whispered.
Relief punched through me so hard it nearly knocked me over.
“Good,” I said, opening my eyes.
The graveyard swam into view, then slowly steadied. The first light of dawn kissed the tops of the stones, turning the edges soft and gray. Raven leaned against Con’s chest, her hand still braced on my wrist.
Her color was better. Not great. But improved. The wound at her side was still ugly, but the darkness around the edges had faded. The bleeding had slowed to a sluggish seep instead of a heavy flow.
I sagged back on my heels, suddenly aware of how much my body ached. Every muscle felt overused, every nerve humming.
Con studied my face. “You look like hell.”
“Thanks,” I muttered.
Raven let out a weak laugh. “Welcome to my world.”
I glanced back down at the wound and watched, breath caught, as the skin finally gave the first small twitch toward knitting. Not closed. Not even close. But moving in the right direction.
Raven stared down at it, then at me. Her eyes shone, not just with pain now, but with gratitude.
“What did you do?” she whispered.
“Circle and burn,” I said. “Your instructions. I just followed them.”
She squeezed my hand weakly. “You did more than that.”
Con’s thumb brushed the inside of my wrist, grounding and assessing all at once. “How much did you give her?”
“Enough,” I said.
His eyes narrowed. “Cass.”
“Enough to keep her here,” I clarified. “The rest she can handle herself.”
Raven closed her eyes, a single tear sliding free. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” I said. “We still have to get you to bed without anyone fainting on the way.”
She snorted softly. “You first.”
Con slowly released my wrist, but his gaze lingered on my face.
“We’re carrying her,” he said. “You both need to rest.”
“I can walk,” Raven protested.
“Good,” he replied. “You can walk from the bed to the bathroom in a day or two.”
He shifted, sliding one arm beneath her knees and the other around her back. She hissed as he lifted her, then settled against his chest with a pained sigh.
I pushed myself to my feet, swaying just slightly. The world tilted for half a heartbeat, then righted itself.
Con saw it.
His gaze sharpened. “You’re done with magic for tonight.”
“Probably,” I said.
“Cass.”
I met his eyes. “For now,” I amended. “Until the next crisis.”
He didn’t like that answer, but he didn’t argue about it, with Raven in his arms and dawn creeping up behind us.
I walked beside him as we started back toward Shadow Bone, hand hovering near Raven’s arm, the echo of our shared power still tingling along my skin.
Her bond with Rene felt stronger now.
Not fixed. Not whole.
By the time we reached the back steps of Shadow Bone, the ground felt less like earth and more like something gently rolling under my feet.
At first, I thought it was just the adrenaline drop. The comedown after a fight was always a little rough. Muscles trembled, senses dulled, focus blurred. Standard.
But this felt different.
A slow, creeping warmth had begun to coil low in my chest, spreading out along my ribs like someone had lit coals under my skin.
It wasn’t the sharp, electric rush of magic—I knew that feeling too well.
This was heavier. Thicker. It made my breaths feel a fraction too deep, my limbs a fraction too slow.
I walked beside Con as he carried Raven, one arm around her knees, the other supporting her shoulders. Her head lolled lightly against his chest, eyes half-lidded but still conscious. She clung to his coat with one hand, the other pressed weakly against her sensitive side.
“You still with us?” I asked.
“Unfortunately,” she mumbled.
“Good. Stay that way.”
We crossed the threshold into the mansion.
The foyer lights were turned down low, casting everything in soft-gold and shadow.
The familiar scent of old stone, wood polish, and lingering incense hit me, and for a moment I felt oddly disconnected from it all, like I was stepping into someone else’s home.
The warmth inside me climbed another notch.
Each step up the stairs felt longer than the last. I kept one hand lightly on the rail, more for balance than vanity. Con glanced sideways at me once, eyes flicking over my face.
“You look pale,” he said.
“I’m always pale,” I answered. Even to my own ears it sounded strained.
“Paler,” he clarified.
“Focus on Raven,” I muttered. “I can still walk.”
He didn’t argue, which meant he didn’t believe me.
We made it to Raven and Rene’s suite without collapsing, which I considered a win in my present state. Con nudged the door open with a boot. Inside, the room was dim and still. Rene lay on the large bed, skin nearly as white as the sheets, chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths.
Even weakened, his presence filled the room—a pressure in the air, like the remnants of a storm.
Raven stirred, trying to twist toward him. “Put me down,” she whispered.
Con crossed to the bed and gently lowered her onto the mattress beside Rene. She winced as the motion tugged at her side, but she immediately reached for his hand, lacing her fingers through his.
“I’m here,” she murmured, voice thin but steady. “I’m not going anywhere, you stubborn bastard.”
Rene didn’t wake, but his fingers twitched around hers.
I felt their bond flare, then settle into a low, pained thrum.
The heat inside my chest spiked again. The coals turned to embers, spreading into my arms and legs. My vision fuzzed at the edges for a heartbeat before snapping back into focus.
Raven’s eyes slid to me. She frowned.
“You don’t look so hot,” she said.
“I feel very hot, actually,” I replied. “In all the wrong ways.”
She tried to smirk. “You overdid it.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.”
Raven turned her gaze to Con. “Take her to her suite. Get her settled. She will be pissed if she drops in the hallway.”
“I don’t drop,” I said.
“You will,” Raven replied. “And he’ll pretend not to be terrified, but he’ll be terrible at it.”
Con snorted. “With pleasure,” he said, answering Raven’s request.
The words were simple. The look he gave me was not.
I opened my mouth to argue, then the floor pitched very gently under my feet. Just once. Enough to make my stomach flip.
Maybe walking alone wasn’t the best idea.
“Fine,” I said. “Escort service accepted.”
Raven’s eyes softened. “Try not to die before the auction. It would ruin the aesthetic.”
“Sleep,” I told her.
She squeezed my hand once in farewell and then turned back to Rene, eyes closing as she rested her forehead against his shoulder.
Con’s hand settled lightly on my back as we left the room. Not pushing. Just there.
The hallway felt longer this time. Each step I took, the warmth inside me climbed another degree. My skin felt tight, like my body was trying to contain energy it couldn’t quite handle. Heat prickled along my spine, then down my arms, like someone running a line of fire beneath the surface.
“You’re radiating,” Con said quietly.
“I thought vampires were supposed to be cold,” I replied.
“You’re not cold.”
My suite’s door appeared ahead at last, a blessedly familiar shape. I reached for the handle, but my fingers didn’t quite cooperate. They felt clumsy, thick. Con’s hand came around mine, steady and sure, turning the knob and easing the door open.
We stepped inside.
The room dimmed automatically, soft lighting illuminating the bed, the dresser, the worn chair in the corner where I’d spent far too many nights cleaning weapons instead of sleeping.
My vision swam again. I blinked hard, trying to clear it.
“I’m fine,” I started.
Then the room tilted.
The floor lurched up toward me in a slow, dreamlike pitch.
Strong arms caught me before I hit it.
Con swore under his breath, the word edged with a fear he probably thought I wouldn’t hear.
“Cass.”
“I’ve had worse,” I managed.
“You say that like it’s a comfort,” he muttered.
He lifted me easily, one arm behind my knees, the other supporting my back. My head lolled against his shoulder, and suddenly I could feel just how much heat I was giving off. His body was as cool as ever. Mine felt like someone had poured liquid fire under my skin.
He carried me to the bed and laid me down carefully, as if I might shatter instead of bounce. The mattress dipped under my weight. I tried to push myself up, but the motion sent a wave of dizziness crashing through my skull.
“Don’t,” he said. “Just stay down.”
“You’re bossy when you’re worried,” I mumbled.
“Because you scare the shit out of me,” he replied.
The words snagged somewhere in my chest.
Sweat beaded on my temples. The inside of my jacket felt suffocating, the fabric clinging uncomfortably to my overheated skin.
“Gods,” I muttered, tugging at the zipper. “I’m burning up.”
“That’s because you pushed too far,” Con said. His voice was sharper now, but underneath the anger was something far more fragile.
“I had to.”
“We can argue about that later,” he snapped. “Right now we get your temperature down.”
He brushed my hands away and took over, unfastening my jacket with quick, efficient movements. There was no lust in it, no teasing—he was all focus, all concern. He slid the jacket off my shoulders and tossed it aside, then started on my belt
Leather buckles gave way under his practiced fingers.
“Boots,” I muttered, trying to kick at one.
He caught my ankle gently. “I’ve got it.”
He peeled off my boots, then the socks, leaving my feet grateful for the cool air. My shirt stuck to my skin. Even the fabric of my pants felt too heavy, too much.