22. Bastian
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
BASTIAN
W alking willingly into Selene Lascar’s house was quite possibly the stupidest thing Bastian had ever done.
As a Wolf, walking into any Vampire’s house was beyond foolish. But Selene had fought in the Bleeding War. She was centuries old, which meant she not only had a history with Wolves—had no doubt killed hundreds of them in the War—but she was strong, too.
Isolde seemed confident that she could keep this meeting civil, but Bastian was under no delusions that Selene wouldn’t hesitate to rip his head clean off, if she so chose.
The cabin where Isolde and Selene lived was surrounded by trees, the slanted roof thickly blanketed in snow. The curtains were drawn in the windows, allowing only the faintest sliver of golden light to spill out into the darkness.
Bastian was going to be so angry if he died in there.
Isolde led him up onto the little porch outside the front door and fished a key out of her cloak pocket. “Be nice,” she hissed over her shoulder, for about the fifth time in as many minutes.
“I’m not stupid, Isolde,” Bastian muttered back. “I don’t want this to go poorly any more than you do.”
That didn’t mean he was going to simper and grovel at Selene’s feet, though.
Isolde got the door unlocked and Bastian followed her inside. Isolde’s lily of the valley scent filled the house, mingling with the smell of honey and rosewood, and something else… familiar. Bastian couldn’t name it, but it was something he recognized.
One wall of the cabin was made entirely of shelves, which were overflowing with tomes.
The rugs on the floor were thick and ornate, the furniture finely made and upholstered in black velvet.
Matching dark curtains covered the windows.
All around, candles burned in elegant silver candelabras, casting the entire space in flickering golden light.
Despite all this finery, there was something missing. It took a moment for Bastian to identify it, but then he realized—there was no kitchen table. There was no china, no cutlery, no pantry. Just the living area before the hearth, and shelves and shelves of books.
Because, of course, Vampires didn’t eat. Not like humans and Wolves did.
“Where do you sleep?” Bastian murmured to Isolde, peering around the space. There was one door along the back wall of the great room, but the cabin wasn’t big enough for there to be two bedrooms hidden back there.
Isolde pointed to a ladder built between two of the shelves, which Bastian hadn’t noticed before. It led up to what looked like a loft space, shadowy with slanted ceilings.
“Selene?” she called, slinging off her cloak and tossing it over the back of the settee. “I brought a guest.”
Silence. Isolde seemed to be holding her breath, which didn’t instill any great feeling of confidence in Bastian.
Then, with no warning, the door at the back of the room swung open and Selene stepped out, clad in a brocade dressing gown.
Her gaze shot to Bastian, dark eyes glinting flatly in the candlelight as she looked him over.
There was a dagger in her right hand, the blade pinched between her long fingers as if she might hurl it across the cabin at any second.
“Hello, Wolf.” The greeting was more of a sneer than anything, the curl of her lip only a step above throwing that knife at Bastian’s head.
“Good evening, Selene,” Bastian replied, so pleasantly that he even surprised himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Isolde’s pale head whip toward him, her eyes wide with shock. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
Selene’s eyes narrowed even further. Her mouth curled like she’d tasted something bad as she came into the room and prowled toward Bastian.
With no small amount of effort, Bastian kept his posture relaxed.
He fought the urge to reach for the knife hidden in his cloak as Selene circled him, like a wild cat stalking her prey.
As she walked, she flipped her knife in the air, catching it deftly by the handle.
Finally, Selene backed away, and only when she’d put a considerable amount of distance between herself and Bastian did she turn her glare on Isolde. “What the hell is he doing here, girl?”
“I told you he and I have been working together,” Isolde said, glancing nervously at Bastian. “I talked to him about the Wolf last night, and we?—”
Selene interrupted, a sneer marring her face. “There’s a we between you and this dog now?”
Bastian ground his teeth. Be nice, Isolde had said. He could take Selene’s insults for the sake of preventing an all out war with the Vampires. He could .
“Come on, Selene,” Isolde murmured, her voice low, as if Bastian couldn’t hear her anyway. “You know what I mean.”
Selene’s gaze shot back to Bastian, somehow with even more vitriol in it than before.
“Fine,” she bit out. “Carry on.”
Isolde hesitated, giving Bastian another look. “I imagine you’d like to talk with the Wolves about what happened last night.”
“I’d rather storm their settlement with the entire northern coven and rip them limb from limb, like that beast tried to do to the humans last night,” Selene spat, holding Bastian’s gaze as she said it, “but yes, since no one died, I’m obligated to speak to their leader and see if an agreement can be reached first.”
Bastian refused to give Selene the satisfaction of a reaction. He just turned to Isolde, waiting for her to go on.
“Alright, well,” she said, “Bastian agrees that that’s the best course of?—”
“Does Bastian speak for himself? Or is he just content to let you do it for him?”
Isolde opened her mouth to reply, but Bastian beat her to it.
“ Bastian prefers to speak only when it’s necessary, and Isolde seems to be getting the point across quite well on her own,” he said cooly.
“But if you need to hear it from me, I’m happy to oblige.
I think it would be wise for you to discuss the matter with Anselm.
He wouldn’t condone what happened last night, and I think he’ll want to right the situation with as little bloodshed as possible. ”
“And if Anselm ” —Selene spat his name with even more venom than before, as though Anselm was the most disagreeable Wolf of all— “thinks the creature who attacked this village should be punished without bloodshed, but I deem blood the proper penance? What then?”
Bastian had to force his next breath into his lungs. Despite everything, he could barely stand to hear Selene speak Anselm’s name with such disrespect. He couldn’t imagine things would end well if Selene showed up in Wolf territory and demanded an eye for an eye, either.
“I’m not Anselm,” Bastian said slowly, “nor am I the leader of the pack. It’s not for me to say what his answer will be.”
He could safely say that Wolf custom demanded bloodshed in an instance like this. He just didn’t know if that bloodshed would appease Selene.
“And why are you not living with your pack, Bastian?” Selene said. She came toward him again, every predatory movement raising Bastian’s hackles. “Wolves are not solitary creatures, unless I’m mistaken. And yet you’re living in Bloodhaven, alone, while your pack resides in the south.”
“The village suits me better than the pack land,” Bastian said, somehow managing a careless shrug. “Besides, it’s hardly very solitary, living in Bloodhaven. I have plenty of customers in the shop to speak to, and now Isolde.”
Behind Selene, Isolde’s eyes widened. One hand flew up in a gesture of frustration, then went to pinch the bridge of her nose.
Bastian could just imagine the things she wanted to shout at him in that moment, starting with a sharp reminder that he was supposed to not antagonize Selene, and that comments like that were not the way to go about it.
Surprisingly, to Bastian and Isolde both, if the way her brows shot toward her hairline was any indication, Selene made no comment. “So you’re suggesting… what? I presume there’s a reason you brought this mutt here, Isolde.”
“He’s offered to escort us into Wolf territory so you can speak with Anselm,” Isolde supplied. “There’s a certain clemency that he can extend as a Wolf if he’s there with us.”
At this, Selene went completely, utterly still. On instinct, Bastian reached for his knife. That was a predatory stillness—the stillness before a deadly creature leapt for the kill.
And then Selene turned, slowly, toward Isolde .
Only the warning flick of Isolde’s fingers kept Bastian from drawing his blade.
“I’m sorry,” Selene said, her voice low and deadly. “ Us , you say?”
Isolde folded her arms, as though Selene didn’t look poised to tear her head off. “Well, yes,” she said. “I’m coming with you, of course.”
“You most certainly are not .”
Isolde shifted on her feet, her blue eyes glinting with an exasperation that Bastian recognized a bit too well. “Why not?” she said, with shocking calmness.
“Because I will not risk your life like that.”
This was the first thing Selene had said that Bastian found he agreed with.
“Risk my life?” Isolde’s voice was tight with annoyance. “I just told you that Bastian’s presence offers us clemency. I don’t know what danger there is to be had.”
“You are a Vampire , Isolde,” Selene snapped. ‘The Wolves would eat you alive if there was no Pact to forbid it.”
“You’re a Vampire too, Selene. Besides, am I really in more danger in Wolf territory than I would be if I stayed here alone? There’s some creature eating people whole on a nightly basis, if you recall, and someone with nightsbane is helping it.”
Isolde put a little extra emphasis on the word nightsbane —so subtle that Bastian almost didn’t notice it. But then she narrowed her eyes, just slightly, as she stared at Selene.
And Selene—Bastian could have sworn she flinched.
“At least if I’m with you in Wolf territory, there’s three of us,” Isolde pushed.
“No, there’s two of us,” Selene snarled, “and him .”
“Yes, well.” Isolde folded her arms, her expression turning expectant. “When are we leaving?”
Bastian braced himself for Selene to start shouting, to refuse Isolde, to turn on him as if he were the one arguing.
But all she said was, “Tomorrow at dusk. We’ll have to make haste if we want to get there before the sun rises.” She turned to Bastian. “Now get out, mutt.”
Bastian forced his mouth into a polite smile. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Selene.”
“Out!” she shouted.
Isolde leapt into motion, hurrying to shoo Bastian toward the door. She all but shoved him out onto the stoop, then pulled the door closed so only her head poked through the crack.
“I’m afraid you and Selene have more in common than either of you might think,” she whispered.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“You’re both incredibly, annoyingly insistent on protecting me. Also, I seem to remember someone else snapping for me to get out of his forge the first night we met…”
Bastian rolled his eyes. “Goodnight, Isolde,” he said, loud enough for Selene to hear. Then, softer, “I’ll meet you in an hour or so for patrol?”
“We’ll see if Selene will let me out of her sight.” Isolde glanced over her shoulder, to where Bastian imagined Selene was watching with folded arms and that flat stare of hers. “I need to feed before we leave, though, so maybe…”
“You’re going to feed?” The question flew out of Bastian’s mouth before he could think better of it—or his incredulous tone. “Tonight?”
“Yes?” Isolde frowned at him. “I’m a Vampire, if you recall.”
“You just fed the other night.” Bastian didn’t know why he was arguing with her about this—only that he suddenly had an image of her writhing with another man, his hands in her silky hair and her fangs sunk into his throat, and that image filled his gut with an ugly churning feeling.
“True,” she said, “but I have no idea how long we’ll be in Wolf territory. I would be stupid not to feed before we leave.”
“Right,” he heard himself say, his voice flat. “Well, fine, then. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
Hell, what was his problem? What did he care if she went and fed on some human bloke? Just because she’d fed on him once didn’t mean he was hers to feed on, and he certainly didn’t want to be. As a Wolf, he shouldn’t want a Vampire to feed on him at all.
A few shared secrets and a perfect orgasm, and Bastian was acting like he had some claim on her. Those things didn’t even make them friends , much less… whatever might cause him to act like some pathetic, jealous lover.
He needed to go home and rest. He was always irritable and irrational until he caught up on the sleep he lost during the change.
“Okay,” Isolde said slowly, her brows drawn together as she studied his face. “Goodnight, Bastian.”
He stalked off into the darkness, desperately trying to ignore that churning sensation in his stomach. Isolde’s stare weighed heavily between his shoulder blades long after the shadows surrounded him.