Page 40 of Vampire Runner

“Now, vampire,” Aeternaphiel’s voice is lofty once more. I hear him open something to the left of me but I don’t allow myself to look. “It’s time to begin your training.”

1866

Ashe

Agitation fuels my pacing. Only Ambrose’s stern order is keeping me from rushing from the house to my mate’s side. Malachi had escorted Cassandra to town, since he’d had business there as well and I was needed in the stables. Lily Dancer had thrown a shoe and the hoof had contracted a strange infection within a day. I’m the only one the mare will let near so I spent the afternoon with her, applying poultices, heat wraps, and anything else I’d learned over the centuries of my life.

I trust Malachi with my life, and with Cassandra’s, I remind myself as I make my way to the window overlooking the drive. It was nearing dusk, and while the two weren’t late, the unease I feel through the mate bond has my fangs elongating.

Something is wrong. Not enough for Ambrose to allow me to rush off and risk causing a scene.

Not with the increased focus on us.

Resisting the urge to gnash my teeth, I think of the bastards who spit vile declarations at my wife after she’d saved a woman and her new babe. I’d wanted to tear out their throats in that moment, but Josephine had helped me hold back.

Maybe if her son, Lan, had been with me, the men wouldn’t be an issue.

A blur appears, shooting down the lane, before slowing to reveal Cassandra in Malachi’s arms. The sight of my mate in another male’s arms—regardless of who it is—is too much. Ignoring Ambrose, I’m out of the room and then the house a heartbeat later. Malachi is in the process of setting Cassandra on her feet, when I take her from his arms, only partly successful in tempering my possessive snarl.

He holds his hands up in surrender, his face more serious than his typical easy grin.

I look down at Cassandra, her heartbeat soothing my anxiety better than any draught or tonic. Her unease has lessened, but enough remains that I know it’s not due to Malachi carrying her.

My eyes snap to Malachi, our gold gazes meeting. “What happened?”

My tone is harder than intended, but the male doesn’t take it personally.

“Just a little scuffle,” Cassandra says as she tries to wiggle free of my arms. She huffs and gives up when I grip her tighter with a rumble.

Malachi isn’t as glib.

“Those so-called devil hunters have started riling up the townspeople.” Malachi nods towards the house and, to Cassandra’s tangible relief, I set her down and we walk beside him. I keep my arm wrapped around her, tucking her into my side. The primal urge to protect my mate demands no less. Next to me is where she is safest. I can kill anything before it touches her. It’s worrying when she doesn’t try to step away, her own arm coming around my lower back.

“Did something happen?” I asked as we re-enter the house. Malachi closes the door behind us and Cassandra steps away from me. Not far enough to be out of reach; alarm shoots my brows upwards as she breathes out a warding spell and places her palm against the door. The air ripples as her ward settles into place.

She looks up at me, her expression grim. “Just a precaution.” Her smile falls flat.

“We need to speak with Ambrose,” Malachi says in lieu of explaining further. Cassandra looks resigned but doesn’t disagree. I catch her hand, threading her fingers with mine and she gives me a grateful squeeze.

Ambrose is standing at his desk, arms folded, when we walk in.

“Explain.”

His order is succinct and firm. He’d have heard everything and felt the wards rise. I won’t be surprised if the others join us soon, curious to know why Cassandra had cast protective magic.

Malachi nods once, the move sharp. His normal arrogant demeanor has disappeared. In its place is the soldier and general I first met years ago. As he reports, I grind my molars. Ambrose’s expression never changes but his anger is clear in the stiffening of his shoulders, the tight squeeze of his fists where his arms are crossed. I don’t realize how tense I’ve grown until Cassandra presses a hand against my bicep.

As predicted, others join us during Malachi’s accounting of their experience in town. Kasar slips in, with Josephine on his heels—the woman as silent as the Lion. Her son, Lan, follows moments later with less subtlety but doesn’t interrupt. Rhys and Ezra are the last to enter the study, both of them wearing concerning expressions.

When Malachi finishes, a poignant silence packs the room.

“We should strike first,” Lan says in a bored drawl. “I don’t see why we don’t take care of these men before they turn the town into a mob.”

Kasar huffs through his nose, sending a scalding look to the blond vampire leaning against the wall across from him. “If we kill these men, it will only prove what they are saying. We will be the monsters they claim.”

Lan cocks a brow at Kasar. “We are monsters, or have you forgotten?”

“Landon!” Josephine chides her son and Lan purses his lips but stays quiet. Josephine looks at my wife. “What of Charity and her babe? Of Johnathan?”

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