Page 119 of A Bond with the Dark

And that isn’t even the rest of them.

As Dom and I are outside on the patio, enjoying the setting sun, he sits close to me on the porch swing and strokes my hand.

“So, you did some good bonding with my mom.”

“She hates me,” I say.

“She doesn’t hate you. She’s hard to get to sometimes.”

“I made her a ring and didn’t know if it was gonna work, and she waltzed into the sunlight like it was nothing. She didn’t care that it was the first time she’d been in the light in two hundred years. I expected more.”

“That’s just my mom, Say. She is a hardened warrior woman. She doesn’t show a lot of emotions. But when she does, she does that fiercely, too.”

“I wish I knew if she liked me or not.”

“She shared a gift with you to protect you. She likes you.”

“Well, that’s good, I guess.”

“You’ll grow on her, Sayah. I promise.”

“Do I make the talismans for the others then, too?”

“Yes. When the time comes. Ollie and Scar will be here soon. Just do all of theirs at once. Make it easier on yourself.”

“What about Hattie?”

“Let her suffer,” he jokes.

“Dom—” I scold.

“She’s a bitch. Always has been.”

“You are the one that said she was murder-y.” I laugh. “I’m making her a ring. She’s going to help us break this curse on you.”

“We hope.”

“Please stay optimistic. Your mom found a spell that helps break the curse of the lycanthrope. We’re gonna go with that, and that should work the same.”

“Well. Let’s hope that I don’t turn all murder-y til then.”

His head cocks sideways, again like he hears something.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Scar is here.”

Glancing through the windows, I can see around five new people entering the house.

“Which one is Scarlet?” I ask as we stand, preparing to go into the house.

“She’s the one, right there,” he says, pointing to her. She’s not quite as tall as he and has long, wavy, bright blonde hair. Her eyes are green, her lips are full, her body curvy, and She. Is. Stunning. The sculpted angles of her face make her seem like she should be on posters for fantasy lovers, as she looks like a vampire. She’s too stunning to be a human. She looks photoshopped.

“And I’m assuming the redhead is the siren?” I ghost the sentence out, feeling an uneasy grace seep about me.

It’s nerve-racking.

“Yep. Don’t worry, babe, you got this. They’re gonna love you.”

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