Page 8 of Vampire Runner

Unable to procrastinate any longer, I step out of the massive tub that’s the centerpiece of the bathroom. A thick, square rug saves my feet from the cold slate tiles, and I snag the towel from the brass hanger, quickly drying myself before wrapping the towel around my waist. I pause, taking in the bathroom, unable to stop myself from wondering what Cassandra will think of it.

The sink mimics a bowl and ewer, set in dark cherrywood cabinets that stretch along one side. The walls are whitewashed—boring even. The only touch of color is the bouquet of dried wildflowers in a brown bottle vase tucked in the corner on the sink counter. I don’t need to see my bedroom to know it’s just as empty and void of much personality.

Like it’s still waiting to be lived in.

I shake my head free of the thoughts and cock my head, extending my senses to see if Cassandra is still in the bedroom. I’d heard Josephine return while I showered, and it seems Cassandra left with her. She was always astute, knowing me better than I knew myself at times.

I’ve imagined a day like this countless times over the last century and a half. I thought of how it would feel to finally capture Cassandra, my Cassandra, in my arms and know that she won’t be stolen from me again without warning. How I’d kiss her until we couldn’t breathe, touch her until we were delirious with pleasure and need. How I’d claim her as my own once again even as I gave myself to her.

I never imagined how fucking furious I’d be.

Breathing through my nose, I swallow the anger down and re-enter the bedroom, forcing myself to get dressed by rote. It’s torture to have her scent so strong in my rooms, taunting me.

A large king-sized four-poster bed dominates the center of my room. The bedspread, that’s been remade neatly, is a rich chocolate brown, with several pillows arranged on it, and the frame a light mahogany. The room is masculine, with the color palette consisting of varying shades of brown and creams with accents of mahogany. Heavy cream-colored curtains are pulled back to reveal windows that span the length of the wall and overlook Ambrose’s narrow gardens below.

A collection of old, handwoven rugs in faded various colors cover the hardwood floors. They are some of the only things I saved from our cottage after the attack. I think of Josephine returning with one of Cassandra’s charmed sachets as I shrug on my black Armani suit jacket, shaking my head. Clearly, I wasn’t the only one who saved things from Cassandra’s and my old home.

I hadn’t lied when I said I have duties to attend to for Ambrose today. I’m to oversee the retrieval and delivery of Rapture confiscated by the Knights of Hades. It’s the final missing shipment after what the Hollands had stolen and began distributing. They’d bring it right to the door, but after the near war with demons decades ago, the truce prohibits them from entering the Barrows.

I make my way to his home office, pausing at the end of the hall as I pick up on enough heartbeats to know he isn’t alone. I recognize each one of them. Eloise and Cassandra are in there with him.

Whatever I’m wrestling with about my wife can wait. I make sure my end of our mate bond is sealed just as tightly as when Eris first took possession of her. I can’t bear the thought of Cassandra experiencing an onslaught of my confused emotions.

No matter what, I still love her with all of my being. I would—have killed for her, over and over. I’ll kill again, if I need to. I’ll die if that’s what it takes to keep her safe.

Even if I want to rage at her for the pain of what she did to me.

Even if the sting of her betrayal has returned, as sharp and agonizing as the moment I realized what she’d done.

Cassandra’s voice carries through the closed door to my ears, and I freeze, my hand nearly on the doorknob.

“I’ll remind you, Ambrose.” Cassandra emphasizes his name. “That I’m a witch, and am as such not bound by your decrees. That I am Ashe’s mate does not make me one of your vampires.”

I hold my breath, bracing for the vampire’s response. It’d taken time for Cassandra and Ambrose to settle into an amicable association. I wouldn’t say the witch and vampire had ever become friends, not with our kind’s tumultuous history. The fact that Cassandra is bullheaded and rebellious while Ambrose is not used to people questioning his authority certainly doesn’t help.

“Yet, because you are his mate, you have had the protection of my vampires since the day you accepted him,” he replies steadily. “Even while Eris betrayed your mate. Even after you betrayed your mate. We’ve kept you protected as well as Eris would allow.”

His words are barbed and meant to strike. I fight my instincts which demand I charge in, fangs bared, to protect my mate. Neither would take kindly to that. Ambrose no doubt knows that I am outside the door, but Cassandra and Eloise don’t have our heightened senses. And with our mate bond closed off, Cassandra can’t sense how close I am to her.

Cassandra is quiet for long enough I reach for the knob. I know my sire’s words have done the damage he intended, and I can’t fight my need to go to her. How many times over the years during our stolen moments has she apologized to me? Too many.

I ease the door open, but only Eloise looks towards me. She’s standing at Ambrose’s side behind the massive, centuries-old desk that he’s towed across the globe as the clan moved. Ambrose’s and Cassandra’s gazes are locked on one another, staring each other down. Cassandra’s body is lined with tension, even as she tries to hide it. I know her too well not to see the signs of her turmoil.

Since I left her in my bed, she’d changed out of the nightgown I’d dressed her in with Josephine’s assistance the night before. She’s wearing a dove gray, high-waisted skirt that reaches just above the floor that I recognize from Josephine’s wardrobe. A long-sleeved, wine-colored blouse, most likely borrowed from Deidre, is tucked into the skirt. The mock high-neck collar is loosely tied closed above a modest V-neck trimmed in lace, a short line of small buttons end just above the skirt.

Together, along with the simple black flats I spy, the outfit is a modern version of what she wore when we first married.

It’s also a stark difference to what Eloise wears, a woman born into the modern fashions of comfort.

When she lifts her chin a fraction, a pride I haven’t felt in ages has my lips twitching upwards. She’s never bowed to anyone since she left her family’s coven. I slip into the study the rest of the way, silently closing the door behind me and standing just in front of it.

“I recognize that, Ambrose.” Her voice is steady, even if her hand twitches as if she wants to clench a fist. “I would hope that you also recognize the service Eris provided and continues to provide the Nightshades. In addition, I remind you of the times you needed my assistance and Eris allowed me to provide it as necessary.”

Ambrose is silent for one heartbeat, and then another. Then Eloise makes an exasperated sound beside him, drawing all our attention as she throws her hands up.

“For fuck’s sake, Ambrose,” she admonishes him with a glare and a poke. “What’s with the third degree? Whatever happened to, ‘Welcome home, Cassandra, we’ve missed you, especially your mate?’”

A chagrined expression flashes across Ambrose’s face, much to Cassandra’s obvious surprise. They both compose themselves, and Cassandra finally gives me a quick, tiniest of smiles before looking back at him. The other vampire captures Eloise’s flailing hand in his own, bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss to the center of her palm. “You are right, my lioness,” he says before turning her hand and lacing his fingers through hers. He returns his gaze to my mate and nods.

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