Chapter 11 Bastian
BASTIAN
My magic craved her blood again.
The truth of it echoed with every heartbeat, loud and brutal.
Hours later, my veins still pulsed with the chaos of it—the way her blood’s scent in the training room nearly knocked me off my feet.
I could barely breathe through the need it stirred in me.
Every time that rune instrument sliced her skin and crimson spilled across her golden flesh, it whispered promises that I didn’t want to hear.
My control had frayed with every drop, every flinch of pain she didn’t let show.
I’d barely managed to get through the session. I felt her everywhere—on my tongue, in my throat, singing through my bones like a song written just for destruction.
And the worst part? I wanted it.
No, not wanted—needed. The kind of need that burned away reason and left only instinct. The kind that made me afraid of what would happen if I stayed too close.
I burst into the house, the creak of the door echoing behind me.
My boots slammed the stairs as I took them two at a time, needing distance and a shower.
The bedroom door shut behind me with a slam that rattled the frame as I rushed to the bathroom and turned the water in the shower as hot as it would get.
I didn’t stop moving until I was naked and under the blistering spray, willing the scalding heat to burn it all out of me.
The water hit like blistering fire but it wasn’t enough to burn away the guilt.
I let my forehead fall to the wall. Steam rose in thick waves around me, but it wasn’t enough.
I braced my hands to the tiles, fingers splayed, breath heaving as if I’d run miles.
The image of her bleeding played again behind my eyes, followed by the sound of her barely stifled gasp, the scent of her pain curling through the air like incense.
It had been a whisper at first, but then it grew stronger. Louder. Until it was all I could hear. All I could think about. I’d nearly walked across the training hall and yanked Steele away from her. The only reason I hadn’t was because I knew what that would look like and what it would mean.
It would mean I was losing control again, and I wasn’t willing to admit that.
I was lost in the noise inside my head until something cut through it. The door opened and light footsteps sounded. I didn’t have to turn to know it was her. My body recognized Kieran’s presence before my mind did. The bond between us crackled to life, stirring something deep and volatile.
“Bastian,” she said, and just the sound of her voice—so close, too close—made my spine go rigid.
“Not now, Kieran.” My voice was low and frayed from my barely controlled anger. “Please.”
“Too bad.”
She stepped into the shower, fully clothed, the spray soaking through her leathers and hair. Her finger pressed against my chest, her eyes blazing. “You don’t get to shut down and push me away every time this gets hard. We don’t sweep this under the rug again. Not anymore.”
I looked away, jaw clenched. “You should stay the hell away from me. You know what happens when I smell your blood. It’s not safe. I’m not safe.”
Her voice cracked with fury and something more desperate. “I don’t care. You are mine, and I am yours, Bastian. I’m not letting you sabotage this.”
I met her gaze then, the intensity in her eyes almost holy as she spoke. “If your body reacts to my blood, then maybe the solution isn’t avoidance. Maybe we need to embrace it. A little bit. Each day. Enough that your magic gets what it needs so it doesn’t lash out.”
The idea punched the air from my lungs.
“You think...feeding me your blood would tame it?” I asked, disbelief creeping in around the edges.
Her lips were set, determination clear. “We won’t know unless we try. I’ll call the dagger now.”
“No,” The word came out sharper than I meant as I stepped forward, panic already clawing up my throat. “Darling—”
“Enough!” Her voice cracked through the steam as her dagger appeared in a shimmer of starlight. Before I could stop her, she sliced her palm and placed the dagger carefully aside.
Blood welled bright and red, vivid against her wet skin.
My world tunneled.
The spray of the shower was suddenly an enemy trying to wash away what I couldn’t bear to lose. I reached behind her and shut it off, the sudden silence deafening as water dripped from both of us in the quiet that followed.
She stepped closer, arm raised.
“Are you sure?” I rasped as my hands trembled.
Her voice was a whisper of unwavering trust. “Drink.”
I didn’t deserve it. I didn’t deserve her.
But I closed my lips over the wound anyway.
Her blood hit my tongue like a fucking inferno—sweeter than sin, darker than magic, a wildfire crashing through my veins and sinking claws into every corner of me.
It didn’t just feed my power—it became it.
I could feel the starlight woven into her cells, the ancient hum of something older than time.
My cock jerked hard, thickening against her soaked clothes as a moan tore from my throat.
My free hand gripped her waist, fingers digging into the wet fabric plastered to her skin, and I drove her back a step, crowding her back against the slick tile wall with the weight of my body.
She gasped, high and sharp as my cock ground into her thigh, rigid with need. Her scent was everywhere. Her taste filled my mouth. My magic unfurled in a violent, aching stretch like it had been starved for centuries and was finally, finally being fed.
Her head tilted back against the wall, breath stuttering as she clutched at my shoulder. I could feel the tremble in her legs. I wanted to sink to my knees and worship her. I wanted to bury myself in her until every name but mine blurred. I wanted to, but then, something shifted.
The storm inside me… settled.
The thrumming, frantic need dulled from a roar to a low hum. My magic stopped clawing at me from the inside out. And suddenly, I wasn’t ruled by it. I wasn’t desperate for more.
I was… full.
I pulled back, stunned, lips still slick with her blood. My breathing was ragged. Her hand still bled, a slow, almost faint, trickle trailing over her wrist—but I didn’t feel the urge to lunge forward again. There was no madness or snapping of control.
Just peace.
“Fuck,” I whispered, staring at her hand like it held salvation. “It worked.”
My heart slammed against my ribs like it didn’t know what to do with the calm suddenly threading through me.
She reached out, touching the corner of my mouth with trembling fingers, brushing away blood I hadn’t realized was there. Her eyes searched mine like she could feel the shift too. Like she knew.
“You’re never allowed to push me away again,” she said softly, fiercely. “I love you.”
I couldn’t speak at first, because somehow, she’d just given me back a part of myself I hadn’t realized was missing.
A dozen responses tangled in my throat, none of them enough.
“I love you, Bastian.”
The words echoed around us again, softer now, but no less fierce as I gazed down into her eyes.
Stars, she meant it.
Kieran—this fucking wild, brilliant, reckless woman who burned through every part of me—loved me.
I should’ve said it back right then. But I just stood there, soaked and naked in the steam with her blood still warm on my tongue, completely unraveling.
A tremble worked through my chest as I dragged a hand over my face, trying to steady the riot in my head. “You shouldn’t.”
Her brows drew together, lips parting, but I kept going, needing to say it before I broke apart entirely. “You shouldn’t love me, Kieran. I don’t deserve it.”
The truth scraped out of me, raw and hoarse.
“I don’t even know what to do with it. I don’t know what love is supposed to feel like.
My parents hated me. My brother died because of me.
Everyone else I’ve ever known wanted something from me: power, blood, a fucking show.
To cage me just to see what happened when I bled. ”
Her hand reached for me. I stared down at her fingers sliding between my own—firm, sure, grounding. She didn’t speak. Just held me there in the quiet, her eyes locked on mine like she already knew the war I was fighting.
I swallowed, throat tight. “But I know what having your love feels like and I know I can’t let you go.”
A breath hitched in her chest.
“I love you, Kieran,” I rasped. “Even if I don’t know how to be good at this. Even if I fuck it up sometimes.”
Her whole face softened, and something in my chest cracked open.
“I don’t need perfect,” she whispered. “I just need you.”
Her breath hitched as I stepped in close again, steam curling between us in waves. Water-darkened leathers clung to her body like a second skin and I couldn’t wait. Not another godsdamned second.
My hands found the buckles and seams, trembling with urgency before I said to hell with it and ripped them.
The sound tore through the shower, sharp and final. Threads snapped beneath my fingers as I stripped the wet leathers from her body like they were a fucking offense. Piece by piece, until all that remained was flushed skin and water droplets clinging to places I needed my hands.
A startled laugh caught in her throat as she blinked up at me, cheeks pink from heat and surprise. “I kind of needed those, Bash.”
I smirked, mouth grazing hers as I braced a hand beside her head and leaned in, my voice a low growl against her lips. “I think I have something you need more, Darling.”
Her mouth opened beneath mine like it had been waiting, like she’d been starving too, and I kissed her the way I’d always wanted to—without holding back. Tongue sweeping past her lips, claiming her. One hand gripped her waist and the other tangled in her hair, angling her just how I liked.