Page 37 of Blood Bound

Chapter 12

Darick

Iwatch Rowan’s taillights fade into the night, my fists bunched at my sides.

Damn it all to hell.

What was she thinking, coming here? The Nocturne Lounge is no place for a witch, especially not one as reckless and untrained as her.

“Well, that was quite the spectacle,” Marcus says, materializing beside me. His tone is light, but I catch the undercurrent of concern.

I growl, “She’s going to get herself killed.”

“Your witch? Or her sister?”

“Both of them,” I snap. “But Rowan… She has no idea what she’s walking into.”

I can still smell her – that intoxicating blend of sorcery and sweet woman. It takes every ounce of my self-control not to chase after her car.

“And Lucien?” Marcus probes. “His timing was…convenient.”

I turn to face him, my eyes narrowing. “Too convenient. He’s up to something.”

“He’s always up to something,” Marcus says dryly.

“This is different.” I stare in the direction the witches had driven in, even though they’re long gone now. “The way he looked at Rowan…like she was a prize he’d just won. And he made a comment about their family history…he knows something.”

Marcus nods slowly. “About the Blackwoods?”

“About all of it. Mia’s disappearance, the blood allergy, maybe even my connection to Rowan.” I stop short as I consider the implications of that. “We need to stop him.”

“No arguments there. But Darick…” Marcus hesitates. “Are you sure you can think clearly where Rowan is concerned? Your reaction tonight…”

I bristle at the implication. “I’m fine. She means nothing to me beyond her blood.”

Even as I say it, I know it’s a lie. The image of Rowan’s face, when she saw me with that other witch, flashes through my mind. The hurt in her eyes, quickly masked by anger. It shouldn’t matter. It shouldn’t affect me like this.

But it does.

“For fuck’s sake!” I mutter, anger and frustration blending in equal measure. She’s so goddamned impossible.

I feel the subtle vibration of my phone and reach for it. Glancing at the screen, I see a message from Arabella, the Grand Elder herself. My jaw tightens involuntarily. This can’t be good. A summons from her rarely bodes well, especially in these tumultuous times. I open the message, bracing myself for whatever new challenge awaits.

“Trouble?” Marcus asks, eyeing me warily.

“Arabella wants to see me. Now.” I slip my phone back into my pocket, already dreading this meeting.

Marcus winces. “Well, that’s never a pleasant experience. Want me to come along?”

I shake my head. “No, I’ll handle this. Keep an eye on things here. And Marcus?” I pause, making sure I have his full attention. “If you see Rowan or her sister again, keep them safe. But don’t let them know you’re watching.”

He nods, understanding the gravity of the situation.

I make my way through the city, a sense of unease building in my gut. What could Arabella want? Has she heard about the incident at the Nocturne Lounge? Or worse, does she know about my connection to Rowan?

I pause at the entrance, taking a moment to compose myself. Whatever Arabella has in store, I need to face it with a clear head. I can’t let my conflicted feelings about Rowan cloud my judgment.

Taking a deep breath, I step inside. The air is as cool as a mausoleum, which matches my mood perfectly. Arabella’s attendant, a young vampire with eyes too old for her face, nods silently and gestures for me to follow.

---