Page 57 of Vampire Savage

Something tells me she’s not talking about his initials carved into my thigh.

“No,” I say, nibbling on the cookie. “It’s one of the questions I have. Or really, I should just say my question is broad enough to cover everything to do with being mated.”

She nods, understanding on her face. “I’ll explain what I can. I’m sure Ms. Eloise or her friend Deidre will be happy to share their experiences so far as a human mated to a vampire.”

Later I might seek them out, but right now I just need someone who feels like a mom guiding me through this. I feel like a preteen, completely naive to the world of dating and boys all over again. At least this time I’ll have more than pop culture magazines to give me advice.

“A vampire, or any creature such as a shifter, witch, or fae, only ever has one true mate. It’s the origins of the human idea of soul mates,” Joséphine begins, and I’m hanging on her every word. “It’s more than that, though. For us, it creates a connection between the souls. It is weaker in the beginning, but it’s still possible to sense the other’s heightened emotions.”

“I’ve felt that!” I thought I’d been looking too much into it, imagining I felt some of Lan’s emotions in my heart when they weren’t there. To know that what I sensed was true sends my heart racing.

Joséphine nods knowingly. “It will grow stronger when he marks you as his mate.” She leans forward and presses her fingertips to my chest, just above my heart. “A vampire’s mate bond is made by drinking of the other’s heart blood. Once marked, the bond cannot be broken save for death and when one mate dies, the other one rarely lives for much longer.”

“Death by a broken heart?”

“Essentially,” she agrees and leans back in her seat. “You are human, so your lifespan will be much shorter unless he turns you. I worry he has not marked you yet because of his belief that he is unworthy of a mate.”

I consider her words, and then the memory of Lan explaining the chances of pregnancy comes to the forefront. Unable to help it, I press a hand to my stomach.

“He said there’s a chance I can become pregnant, because I have the gene to become a vampire.”

Joséphine’s brows shoot up and she looks at where my hand lay before cursing in French under her breath.

Panic grips me. “What?” I practically yell.

“That foolish boy,” she says with the same tone of any exasperated mother. “It may be a fortunate thing that he has not marked you yet. The chances of pregnancy increase tenfold between mates, especially those with a completed bond.”

“Oh.”

I have a PhD, two bachelor’s degrees, multiple scholarly awards to my name, and countless other achievements but that’s the best response I can come up with at Joséphine’s revelation.

Looking down at my stomach, I’m struck dumb by the idea that I could be pregnant with Lan’s child at this very moment. Thinking about the time between my last period and when I last had my birth control shot, my heart skips a beat.

It’s entirely possible. My period has never been regular, and it’s been a couple of months since I postponed my last shot during a hectic week at work.

I suck in a breath, trying not to hyperventilate, and Joséphine leans forward, rubbing my back soothingly as the panic hits.

“This... this wasn’t in my plans,” I say, my voice shaking. Then I laugh. “Then again, being murdered by my father in a ritual sacrifice wasn’t either, so why the fuck not. A baby is much better than being dead.”

“A baby?”

Lan’s cold voice silences my maelstrom of emotions and my face snaps to the doorway. He’s a pillar of hard, fierce ice surrounded by the gentle comfort of his mother’s parlor. His golden eyes are frigid and terror grips my throat.

“I need to go,” I say to no one, setting the tea cup and saucer down with a clatter on the tray and pushing to my feet. The dread growing inside of me only intensifies as Lan steps out of my way as I flee.

Chapter Twenty-Five

LAN

Wren passes me, the pain on her face only confirming what I know to be the truth. I am not meant to keep someone happy, to provide a place of comfort and gentleness. I had sensed my mate’s presence the moment I turned onto our street, a primal instinct pushing me to be derelict in my duties to Ambrose and go to her side. I’d inhaled her sweet scent the moment I entered the house, following it to my mother’s tea room.

I’d arrived in time to hear that Wren may be pregnant, and the words struck me more brutally than any fight I’ve been in. Not even the explosion that should have taken my life rocked me as hard as her words.

“Matka?” I turn towards the one anchor I’ve had my entire life, seeking her out as the ground beneath my feet turns from stone to sand. Wren is the wave that crashes against me, stealing my footing and understanding of the world with each encounter.

My mother rises from her couch, swiping her hands down over skirt habitually to straighten the folds as she moves around the tea table to my side. Her concern is evident in the slight bend of her brows and pinched lips.

“You should be going after your mate, my son,” she reprimands me gently.

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