Page 85 of Blood Bound

But will he? He told me he was weak. And he never fed from me when he could. I could have made him stronger with my blood, but instead, I’d told him he couldn’t have it.

Oh God. Maybe I could have saved him!

There’s another heavy silence from my family.

“If he’s gone, how come there isn’t a void where the bond should be?” I cast my eyes to my grandmother beside me. “You told me, Gran, don’t you remember? You said that destroying the bond would shatter me.”

Not that I don’t feel shattered. But I’m not feeling that strange hollowness I’d felt when I’d been locked in that cell before he reached me.

Gran slides a hand around my shoulders and pulls me close against her. “Do you feel him?” she asks.

I don’t answer immediately because I’m trying desperately to find that familiar tingle. That sense of him. But I don’t. “No,” I whisper. “I don’t feel hollow though. Surely that must mean something?”

“It does, darling.” She smiles sadly. “It means he knew what was coming.” She touches my hand that’s closed around the warm pendant, then gently takes it from me, her fingers tracing its intricate design. “Rowan, dear, this is an ancient artifact created during the early days of vampire-witch bonds. It serves two crucial purposes.”

She holds it up to the light, letting it catch the sun’s rays. “First, as you’ve experienced, it enhances the blood bond between mates. It allows them to reach out to each other across great distances, strengthening their connection.”

Gran’s eyes soften, a hint of sadness in her voice. “But its second purpose is equally important, though far more tragic. When a blood-bonded pair is separated by death, the surviving witch experiences unbearable pain – a void where their connection once was. This pendant…it helps to fill that void.”

She gently places the pendant in my hand. “It doesn’t erase the loss, but it cushions the blow. It takes the edge off the pain, allowing the survivor to heal without being consumed by the emptiness left behind. Think of it as a magical balm for the soul, soothing the raw edges of a severed bond.”

Gran squeezes my hand. “Our ancestors created this to ensure that losing a blood mate wouldn’t mean losing oneself. It preserves the warmth of the connection, even in absence, allowing the survivor to move forward without being taken by grief.”

I swallow hard. “He knew this?”

“I told him,” she says sadly.

“Oh.” My voice is small. The last vestiges of hope I’ve been clinging to are beginning to fade. The silence stretches out as all of this slowly sinks in. I heave an audible sigh, breaking it.

“I think we need to get you cleaned up,” Gran says, glancing down at where I’m still dressed in my low-cut shirt and tiny skirt. Both garments are now filthy and tattered, dirt and blood splattered over my exposed bare skin. “I have a spell to heal those.” She strokes one of the countless tiny cuts that mar my skin. I shudder as I remember my mad plunge through the window. The only consolation is knowing that I got Sarah out with me. She’s been taken to the home of Marina Tidewater to recuperate.

I don’t resist when Gran tugs me to my feet and leads me to the guest suite bathroom. I could go down to my cottage to do this, but I suspect she’d object, and I’m too tired to argue. Within moments, the bath is running, fragrant steam filling the room as Gran weaves an intricate pattern of hand gestures over the swirling water.

“In you get, sweetheart.” She indicates the bath as I strip off my filthy clothing. It doesn’t occur to me to be self-conscious as I step past her naked and then sink into the water. I flinch as the countless little wounds sting and burn, then settle back when the unpleasant sensation begins to fade.

The bath starts to work its magic. I heave a sigh, my eyelids fluttering shut as the heat envelops me. It’s the first good feeling I’ve had in over twenty-four hours.

“You just relax, darling,” Gran murmurs as she slips out of the room. When I open my eyes again, one of Kara’s cotton sundresses has been hung from a hook at the back of the bathroom door. A quick glance down confirms that Gran’s spell has done its work. My skin is smooth, uninjured…as if nothing ever happened. If only I could say the same about my aching heart.

Dropping my head back against the back of the tub, I close my eyes once more.

I must have dozed off at some point because the next thing I know, I’m jolted awake by raised voices.

What the hell?

Getting out of the tub, I dry off and quickly slip into Kara’s dress before heading downstairs. I stop short in the doorway. My family’s living room is crowded with unexpected occupants. Among them, I spot a tall, imposing woman – Seraphina, our High Priestess.

“My lady, we were hoping for just a little time to regroup before having this meeting,” Dad is saying.

“We need answers,” Seraphina’s cool voice cuts him short. She turns around, and her eyes lock onto mine. “Rowan Blackwood, you will tell us exactly what transpired at that facility.”

I hover in the doorway, overwhelmed by the intensity of her gaze. Dad steps forward, positioning himself between us. “My daughter has been through enough. She needs rest, not an interrogation.”

“With all due respect, Lake,” Seraphina counters, “the vampires have a dead clan leader, and we’re dealing with a rogue witch in custody. This situation demands immediate attention.”

The words “dead clan leader” knock the wind from me. I can’t breathe.

“Rowan,” a gentle voice breaks through my panic. It’s Astra Moonshadow, her violet eyes brimming with tears. “I’m…I’m so sorry. So very sorry. I had no idea. Heath. He…” She shakes her head.

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