Chapter 8
Elias
Two days.
Forty-eight hours since Talin had shown up at my bedroom door at four in the morning, her nose bleeding from pushing her power too hard, desperation in her green eyes.
Forty-eight hours since I'd touched her face and told her to stop thinking she wasn't enough.
Forty-eight hours since I'd sent her away.
Again.
I counted the bottles behind the bar for the sixth time that night. Twenty-three whiskeys. Fifteen vodkas. Eight rums. Twelve tequilas… The numbers never changed. The arrangement stayed perfect. Clean lines. Proper order. Everything in its designated place.
Everything except the fist hollowing out my chest.
The Purple Fang was empty, the last patron having stumbled out an hour before.
Just me and the bottles and the silence that used to bring me peace.
Now it only amplified the constant tug in the center of my chest, pulling me toward the Garden District.
Toward the witch who'd been brave enough to come to me, to my fucking room, and I'd been too much of a coward to let her stay.
I exhaled and picked up another glass to polish.
My hands shook.
They never shook.
"Ye're going to rub the pattern right off that glass."
Killian's voice cut through my concentration. I didn't look up, just set down the tumbler with deliberate care and reached for another. "Just being thorough."
"Ye've reorganized the stock room four times in the past two days." He moved to lean against the bar, his golden eyes sharp. "Alphabetized the receipts. Cleaned the grout between every tile in the bathroom. Twice."
"It needed doing."
"The floors and grout were already clean enough to eat off."
I didn't answer. Because what was I supposed to say?
That I'd been spiraling? That every instinct I possessed was screaming at me to go to my little witch, claim her, bind myself to her so completely she could never walk away?
That the compulsive cleaning had been the only thing standing between me and doing exactly that?
Control was my religion. Order, my prayer. But the gods I'd been worshipping had failed me the moment her blood had touched my tongue. She had all the power in this relationship. She could walk away at any time and leave me to my fate, which would be a slow, painful death.
Which, honestly, hadn't sounded half bad. At least it would put me out of my fucking misery.
"When's the last time ye fed properly?" Killian asked quietly, interrupting my thoughts.
My jaw tightened. "I'm fine."
His golden eyes sharpened as he studied me closely. He leaned in slightly, inhaling my scent. "There's something different about ye, Elias. Can't quite put my finger on it."
The fucker was playing with me.
"Drop it." I shot him a look, flashing my fangs, but he just watched me with that calculating expression. Like he was piecing together a puzzle.
"Talin came to our home." His Irish lilt carried curiosity more than accusation.
"What was it? Two nights ago. In the middle of the night while I was helping Lizzy at her store.
Desperate to find ye. All frazzled from trying to use her power without ye.
At least, that's what Kenya told me." He paused, watching my reaction. "Was that all it was?"
The question hung between us. He knew damn well what happened that night. He could probably smell her on me right now. Smell her blood running through my veins.
I grabbed another glass, just to have something to do with my hands. "She needed rest is all. Needed to stop tearing herself apart."
After a moment, he nodded. "Aye, I'm sure that's all she needed." The skepticism in his voice was clear. He pushed himself off the bar and moved behind it, reaching for something. "Tell me, Elias. Have ye fed since that night?"
I watched as he pulled something out of the pocket of his sweater and poured it into a glass.
He pushed it across the bar toward me. Blood. Fresh, by the scent. Human. Type O-negative. High quality. The kind that should have made my fangs ache with anticipation.
Instead, my stomach turned.
"Drink it," Killian ordered.
I stared at the glass like it might bite me. "I'm not thirsty."
"Liar. Ye're starving." He gestured to the blood. "Try it. Go on."
With a growl of frustration, I grabbed the glass and brought it to my lips. But the moment the blood touched my tongue, bile rose in my throat. It tasted disgusting. Lifeless. Wrong in every conceivable way.
I slammed the glass down, blood sloshing over the rim, then spit the sip I'd taken into the sink. I couldn't get the taste out of my mouth so I rinsed it out with some water, and it was a moment before I could speak. "Satisfied?"
I didn't confirm anything. Didn't deny it, either. Just stood there, hands braced against the bar as I continued to spit into the sink, feeling exposed in a way I hadn't felt in over a century.
"Christ, Elias." He ran a hand through his hair. "She's the one. Ye drank from Talin." He paused, watching me. "I suspected, of course, because of everything happening between ye and her, but… aye. This changes everything."
"You think I don't know that?" I snapped.
"And ye let her leave? After tasting her?" He shook his head, disbelief clear on his face. "No wonder ye're falling apart. Once a vampire has a taste of their mate—" He stopped, studying me. "Nothing else will satisfy. Ever. Ye know that, right? Ye know what will happen?"
"I'm aware of the biology," I bit out. "And I know what she is.
" I shoved away from the bar and started pacing, unable to stand still.
"I knew the second her blood hit my tongue.
I felt it, Killian. Felt every fucking thing I've seen with you guys.
" My hands clenched into fists. "The possessiveness.
The need. The absolute certainty that she's mine and I'm hers and nothing will ever change that. "
"Then why did ye send her away?" The genuine confusion in his voice made it worse somehow.
Because she came to me bleeding and desperate, and I wiped the blood from her face and told her pretty lies about being enough, then sent her home like a coward.
Because I'm still terrified of what it means to need someone this much.
Because even seeing the evidence of what fighting this bond does to both of us, I can't seem to take that final step.
"I needed time to think," I said instead.
"Ye've had two days for it. How's that working out for ye?"
I stopped pacing and stared at his gloating face. "Perfectly."
"Ye look like shite."
"Thanks for the observation." Pouring the blood into the sink, I started to wash the glass.
"Ye're welcome." He leaned against the bar again, his expression changing to a mix of concern and frustration.
"But let me see if I understand this. She came to ye for help.
For stability. Because without ye near, her power tears her apart.
Then ye drank from her and discovered she's yer mate.
And she had to hunt ye down again because she needed ye, and you sent her away. Again."
The glass in my hand shattered.
I stared down at the blood welling from the cuts on my palm, at the shards glittering across the bar I'd just spent an hour polishing to perfection, and something dark and vicious rose in my chest. Fury at myself, at fate, at the universe that keeps handing me chances to do the right thing, and I keep choosing wrong.
"She deserves better than me," I heard myself say. "And it's not too late for her. She can still go on to live a normal life. I'm the only one dependent on this fucking—" I broke off, jaw clenching against the words.
Killian's expression softened. "What are ye so afraid of? What do ye think is going to happen?"
"I'll destroy her." The admission clawed its way free.
"When I lose control. And I will, Killian.
The night she came to my room, I wanted—" I stopped, swallowing hard.
"I wanted to keep her there. Lock the door.
Never let her leave. Feed from her until she ran dry.
Do—" I stopped before I said some shit that was none of his fucking business. "I'll hurt her."
"And ye think those urges make ye unworthy?"
"I think they make me a threat."
"Ye think she's fragile?"
"I think she's already carrying enough on her shoulders. I think she deserves better." My voice dropped. "And I keep proving myself right by pushing her away."
"Then stop." Killian's voice was firm now, all business. "Ye've had her blood. There's no going back from that, Elias. The bond is set, whether ye like it or not. Staying away from her doesn't protect her. It weakens both of ye."
The tug in my chest pulled hard, as if in agreement. I pressed my blood covered hand against my sternum, the cuts already healed, trying to ease the ache. It didn't help.
Nothing fucking helped.
"She hasn't had my blood yet."
"That doesn't matter," he insisted. "It's done. All yer doing by not sharing yer blood is letting her age. Possibly get sick and die. Then what will ye do?"
"You know, I felt her," I admitted quietly after a moment.
"That night. When she was using her power alone before she came to me.
I felt her tearing herself apart trying to find Alex without me there to stabilize her.
" The words were raw and painful in my throat.
"And even when she showed up at my door, desperate and hurting, I still sent her away. What kind of mate does that make me?"
"The kind who's scared out of his mind," Killian said, surprising me with the gentleness in his voice.
"But ye need to hear what I'm saying, Elias.
The bond ye have, that's not something that can be undone.
The longer ye fight it, the worse it gets for both of ye.
Not just ye. Yer hurting her by staying away. So go to her."
"And say what? Sorry I abandoned you after the most intimate thing that can happen between a human and someone like me? Sorry I've been hiding in my bar counting bottles while you've been suffering?" I laughed, but it held no humor. "I'm sure she'll welcome me with open arms."
"Ye're making excuses."
"I'm being realistic."
"Ye're being a coward."
He was right. And it pissed me off, even though I'd said that exact same thing about myself. I spun on him, fangs fully extended, a growl rumbling in my chest. "Say that again."
Killian didn't flinch. Didn't back down. Just met my glare with unwavering certainty. "Ye heard me. Ye've faced down far worse things without breaking a sweat. But one tiny witch terrifies ye because she makes ye feel something real."
"That's not—"
"It is." He straightened, his voice gentling.
"I know what it's like, Elias. To find yer mate and realize they have the power to shatter everything ye've built to protect yourself.
Lizzy nearly destroyed me. And I fought it, too.
Fought her, fought the bond, fought everything that made me feel alive again after centuries of merely existing.
" His golden eyes held mine. "But staying away from her didn't make me stronger.
It made me weak. Vulnerable. Distracted. A danger to my coven."
The words settled between us, heavy with truth I didn't want to acknowledge.
"Yer mate grounds ye," Killian continued.
"Makes ye stronger. I've seen it happen with Jamal and Angel, with Brogan and Esme, with Kenya and Alex.
Hell, I lived it with Lizzy. Fighting the bond only leaves ye vulnerable.
" He paused. "And right now, with Marcus still out there, with Talin needing to enter the thread network to save Alex—ye can't afford to be weak. And neither can she."
My head snapped up. "What are you talking about?"
He looked at me like I'd lost my mind. "How else do ye think she's going to get to him?"
Ice flooded my veins. "No. Absolutely not. That's—she could get lost. Trapped. Marcus could—" I couldn't even finish the thought.
"Exactly." Killian's voice was gentle but firm. "Which is why she needs ye. Someone to keep her tethered to reality. Someone whose bond with her is strong enough to pull her back."
Understanding crashed over me with devastating clarity. "My blood. She needs my blood."
"Aye. As her mate, ye could anchor her. Keep her safe while she saves Alex." He paused. "But only if ye actually complete the bond. Only if ye stop running and face what ye're so afraid of."
I stared at him, my mind racing through implications and possibilities and the terrifying reality that Talin was planning something impossibly dangerous. Something that could steal her from me before I ever truly had her.
The pull in my chest intensified, insistent. Demanding.
"I don't know how to do this," I admitted. "How to be someone's mate. How to let someone in like that. How to—" I broke off, frustrated with my own inability to name the fear churning in my gut.
"Ye start by showing up," Killian said simply. "The rest will follow."
Before I could respond, before I could process everything he'd just said, the air in the bar changed. Thickened. The temperature dropped ten degrees in an instant, and every bottle behind the bar started rattling against the shelves.
Killian's eyes flashed gold. "Get down!"