Chapter 62
My bedroom greets me.
“Fuck,” Rogan says, nearly jumping off my bed. “You might warn a guy.”
“This is where the ether sent me.” I collapse into his arms.
He kisses my forehead and then pulls away slightly. “Damn, princess. You’re hurt.”
“I’m all right. Just surface scratches.”
Rogan tenderly inspects my body, tracing his warm fingers over fresh gashes and blooming bruises. I suppress a wince. Worry lines his handsome features, and anxiety radiates from him in palpable waves.
“I won,” I whisper, burrowing into his warm embrace.
A strained silence hangs between us for a beat.
Then, “Eris?”
I nod, fighting back the wave of exhaustion nibbling at the edges of my consciousness. “She’s gone.”
His breath hitches and he pulls back to look at me, emerald eyes wide with alarm. “You killed her?”
“I did what was necessary.” I hold his gaze without wavering.
“And the baby?” He drops his hand to my stomach.
The child gives me a hearty kick.
“Feel for yourself,” I say. “He’s fine. We’re both fine.”
“Thank God.”
He’s silent a moment.
Then his faces twists.
I expected that, in a way.
He’s mourning the loss of his fated mate. Of Eris.
“It’s all right, Rogan.” I lift my hand, ignoring the ache, and cup his cheek.
His eyes lock onto mine. Such a turmoil of emotions are reflected in them—guilt, grief, and stunned disbelief.
“I understand,” I say.
“Do you?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand covers mine on his cheek and he leans into my touch. “Can you really?”
“Yes,” I reply softly.
The truth resonates in my heart, echoes through the bond that binds us together—a bond that defies laws of nature, transcends fates written in stone. Because if anyone understands Rogan’s loss right now, I do.
I feel everything he feels. We may not be fated mates, but somehow, the universe has bound our souls anyway.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“Don’t be.” I release a shuddering breath and squeeze his hand lightly. “We both did what we had to do.”
He nods and then rakes his gaze over me again. “Come with me.”
He takes my hand and leads me into my bathroom, where he strips me of my sweat- and blood-stained clothes. He wets a cloth under the faucet and wipes the grime and blood from my face.
My fangs snap down despite myself.
“You’re hungry,” he says.
“It took a lot out of me.” I sigh. “You should know…”
“What?”
“I fed from her. From Eris.”
His hand goes rigid against the wet washcloth. “I see.”
“It was instinctual, Rogan. I needed the sustenance. But her blood. It wasn’t anything like yours. I could taste the demon in her.”
“And it tasted like?” Rogan’s voice wavers, the question hanging thick in the air between us.
“Like darkness,” I reply, still haunted by the odd and bitter tang. “It was…wrong. Unnatural.”
His eyes reflect a pain he tries to hide as he continues to clean my wounds. Silence stretches out between us, broken only by the soft hum of running water.
“You’re not her, you know,” he says after a while, his voice soft yet firm.
I look at him, blinking away tears that threaten to spill. “What do you mean?”
“Eris. You’re not her.” He takes a deep breath as if steeling himself for what he’s about to say next. “You never were. You’ll never be. Nothing about you is unnatural, princess. Nothing about us is unnatural.”
His words echo in my mind, their gravity settling around me like a comforting blanket. Somehow he knew what I needed to hear.
“I know,” I say. “I’ve fought my vampire half my whole life, felt it was unnatural.
But I had to embrace it, Rogan. I had to be both human and vampire to defeat Eris.
I used my human intuition, my vampire strength and speed.
It was all I needed. I didn’t use the forces that Alara helped me harness. ”
He raises his eyebrows.
There will be time enough to tell him what I must do. What those forces are ultimately for.
I draw in a breath. “I’m exhausted, but I’m also disgusting. I need a shower.”
“I’d join you,” he says, “but I don’t want to exhaust you further.”
I let out a soft laugh. “Are you kidding? You’re exactly what I need. I just witnessed death. Now I want to witness life. And what better way?”
“Thank God,” he says, “because my cock is so fucking hard for you right now.”
“And my teeth are ready to sink into your flesh, Rogan. Now.”
He wraps his arms around me, and I clamp onto his neck.
The dark elixir flows over my tongue, down my throat.
The taste is sweet in contrast to the bitterness of Eris’s blood.
It’s rich, heady, and intoxicating—like a fine wine that leaves a warmth in its wake and a buzzing euphoria in my veins.
It’s everything it always is and all that I need it to be.
I taste the strength of his spirit, the depth of his love, and the echo of a thousand unspoken promises.
His essence, his life force—it’s pure, raw, and undeniably Rogan.
His moan reverberates against my lips as I drink from him. I relish each drop of his precious blood, careful not to take too much. The world around us fades away until all I am aware of is him beneath my touch, his life flowing into me.
My fangs retract and I pull back slowly, licking the puncture wounds closed. His skin is warm against my tongue, and I place soft kisses over the healed wounds.
“Sated?” he asks.
“For now.”
“Then it’s time for you to sate me, princess.” He lifts me into his arms.