Page 11 of Blood Bound

This can’t be real!

Despite my shock and confusion, I can’t deny the visceral attraction that surges through me. It’s like a magnetic pull, drawing me toward him even as my mind screams in disbelief.

Around me, I sense rather than see the reactions of others. There are sharp intakes of breath, muted gasps, and a sudden tension that crackles through the air. The witches, to their credit, manage to keep their responses subdued. I can feel Gran’s hand on my arm, steadying me, reminding me of the need for caution in this delicate situation.

But I can’t tear my eyes away from Darick.

How is this possible?

I saw him turn to ash. I felt the heat of the flames that consumed him. Yet here he stands, looking more alive than ever, his gaze locked on mine with a focus that makes my thighs feel like jelly. Just a couple of days ago, those eyes were trailing over my naked skin.

My mind races, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing. Is this some kind of trick? A vampire doppelganger? Or did I somehow fail to kill him? The implications of either possibility chill me.

I can’t do anything but stare as Darick calmly takes his seat at the table, acting for all the world like he hasn’t just risen from the dead.

Breathe. Just breathe.

There’s no way that anyone could hear my heart thundering, but part of me is convinced they can.

The vampires seem completely unfazed by Darick’s presence. They nod in greeting, some even offering small smiles. It’s surreal watching them act so normal when my entire world has just been turned upside down.

I glance around at my fellow witches, seeing my own shock mirrored on their faces.

Seraphina clears her throat, clearly thrown off balance. “Well, now that we’re all…present,” she begins, her voice wavering slightly. “We’ve called this meeting to discuss…recent…recent events.”

I wince at her uncharacteristic stumbling. Seraphina’s always so poised, so eloquent. Seeing her struggle only heightens my discomfort.

Arabella’s brow furrows as she looks around at our stunned faces. “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” she says. “What recent events are we discussing? And why do you all look as though you’ve seen a ghost?”

The vampires exchange confused glances, murmuring among themselves. I catch Darick’s eye for a moment, and my breath catches in my throat. There’s a hint of…something in his gaze. Amusement? Challenge? I can’t quite read it.

I sink lower in my chair, wishing I could disappear.

How are we supposed to explain this?

As the witches all swivel to look at me, the vampires respond in kind.

“I…uh…” My voice cracks, and I clear my throat. “We thought… I mean, I…”

Confusion clouds my mind – how is he here? Relief floods through me, knowing I hadn’t actually killed him. But hot on its heels comes rage. If he’s alive, why didn’t he tell me? Why let me suffer with the guilt?

And underneath it all, there’s something else. A pull, an attraction I can’t deny, even now. It terrifies me.

Darick’s face remains frustratingly impassive. Not a flicker of emotion crosses his features as he regards me coolly. It’s maddening.

“Miss Blackwood?” Arabella prompts, her voice sharp.

I jump, realizing I’ve been silent for too long. “We…there was an incident,” I fumble for words. “With Dar- I mean, Lord Drake. We thought he was…gone.”

“Gone?” The Grand Elder raises a perfect eyebrow.

Murmurs ripple through the room. I catch snippets of whispered conversations, words like “impossible” and “lying” making my stomach knot.

I glance at Gran, silently pleading for help. She gives me a small nod, but her eyes are troubled.

“Perhaps,” Seraphina interjects, eyes narrowing on me, “we should start at the beginning.”

The beginning?

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