Page 5 of Vampire Runner

“Oh, such a horrible experience for you,” I tease. My voice is still rough, and I’m jostled as Ashe reaches for the water Josephine left on the nightstand. He helps me hold it steady as I drink, managing the flimsy-feeling straw without too much awkwardness. When I’ve had enough, he returns it quickly. His hand goes to my thigh, gripping me as if afraid I’ll disappear at any moment. To be fair, Eris never gave warning to when she’d return and take over once more.

“I don’t know for sure,” I admit, rolling my lips. I lean my head against his shoulder again, telling myself it’s because I’m exhausted and not because I’m afraid to look my mate in the face. “But whatever that blade was, it hurt Eris. A part of her is missing.” I rub the space over my heart with the heel of my palm.

Ashe is preternaturally still around me, practically holding his breath. “Does that mean...”

He trails off but I don’t need him to finish the question. I take a deep breath, bracing myself. “The bargain is still there. There’s enough of her within me that the bindings still tie us together.”

Ashe hisses and drops his head against mine as he wrangles with his disappointment. I can’t feel him through our mate bond, but I don’t need to. It oozes from every pore. He’d locked the mate bond down when it was clear Eris had possessed me and hasn’t opened it since.

I can hardly judge him for such a punishment. Not after I’d done the same the night I betrayed him.

I stroke the arm holding my legs to him, soothing both of us. I feel every soft hair on his arm, refamiliarizing myself with the strength of him as I ghost my fingers over him. For so long, I’ve lacked this freedom.

Eris, bound by the terms of our bargain, allowed me time in control to maintain the integrity of my mind and humanity. There was never consistency, though. I never knew when I’d have the opportunity to soak Ashe in, to remind him of my love, to apologize again, to steal anything that could keep me strong through the years of separation.

There’d been a time when Eris’s frustrations with her failing hunt turned to doubt, which fed into my own. A demon would never willingly give up a bargain, and as much as Eris and I’ve shared together, Kasar is right when he said Eris knows nothing of compassion. Eris will never break the bargain.

Tendrils of shame and guilt creep into my thoughts and around my heart, making my breath stutter in my chest.

“I’m so sorry,” I breathe out in a rush. It’s the same lament, the same thing I say almost every chance I have. “I know you can never forgive me, but I couldn’t let you die.”

Ashe freezes and while he doesn’t move, I practically feel him withdrawing from me.

“This isn’t the time.” His voice is firm, borderline sharp. “We need to figure out what Aeternaphiel did to you and Eris first. Then we’ll find him again and finish this at last.”

I open my mouth to protest, but what can I say? A foreboding grows in the pit of my stomach, my magic warning me that we don’t have as much time as we hope. Something has happened to Eris, and it’s hurting me too because of how entwined the demon and I are.

The door opens, preventing me from saying anything else. Josephine hurries in, sachet in hand. A flutter of warm and fondness fills me at the sight of the familiar satchel as she holds it out.

“I’ve kept all of your workroom supplies in pristine condition,” she admits with a beaming smile, before it falters and her brow furrows. “Well, all those that survived the fire. Still.” Josephine leans over the bed, straightening the blankets over us and plumping the pillow behind Ashe. “I always knew you’d need them when you returned to us.”

“She wasn’t on a vacation, Matka,” a languid drawl came from the doorway. I tuck the sachet close to my chest and look at the platinum blond man leaning against the door frame, hands casually tucked into slacks.

“Landon.” I purse my lips after saying his name. Then I raise a brow. “Still annoying as always?”

He cocks his head as if confused. “I believe you mean charming.”

I smile sweetly, falling back into the familiar banter with ease. “As a snake, of course.”

Ashe says nothing, and more than ever, I wish he’d open his side of the mate bond. I need to know he’s okay.

Landon pushes off and straightens, cocking a brow. “Don’t let my mate hear you,” he starts before Josephine cuts her hand through the air with a chastising glare between the two of us.

“Do not start,” she warns us with a pointed finger. “Cassandra has only just woken up and something still ails her. I do not have the patience for your childish squabbles.”

There’s always been something more intimidating about Josephine than the head of the Nightshades. Maybe it was the fact that she’d been turned when her hair was already silver, her mortal years lining her elegant face. Ambrose has always appeared in his thirties, a man in his prime. Josephine, between her gray Victorianesque dresses and her matronly manners, has always been able to bring even the most stubborn of vampires to heel.

To my genuine surprise, Lan moves to stand beside his mother. Something that could be concern—but more likely intrigue, softens his face. I practically gape, unfamiliar with this version of the vampire.

He gives me an exaggerated sarcastic smirk. “Don’t be so surprised.” His words are clipped as he studies me intently. He says nothing and his gaze goes over my head to Ashe. “What do you feel through the bond?”

I startle. I hadn’t even considered asking Ashe to lower his mental block. I will never ask him to, even though I’m desperate to feel as close to him as we once were. I don’t move as I wait for Ashe to say something, to do something—anything.

He tightens his hold and moves me until I’m on the bed beside him. Reflexively, I look at him but only catch a glint of his golden eyes as he slides out of the bed on the other side. He’s wearing a white shirt that hugs his shoulders and is loose around his narrow waist, and soft charcoal gray sleep pants. Ashe runs a hand through his sandy-brown locks, pushing the strands back off his forehead.

He strides towards a door in the wall, pausing as he grabs the handle. He casts a look over his shoulder, but at Landon. I grip the covers, silently pleading for him to look at me. To give me something.

“Nothing. Like usual,” he answers, his voice rough. He clears his throat. “I need to shower. I have work to do for Ambrose, and Cassandra doesn’t need my help to determine what’s wrong.”

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