Page 4 of Blood Caged

A couple hurries past, laughing softly. A businessman checks his watch, frowning. Nothing seems amiss, and yet… I can’t shake this feeling. My gaze darts from shadowy corners to reflective shop windows, half-expecting to see a lurking figure.

Ugh! You’re being ridiculous.

I take a deep breath, trying to center myself. The crisp scent of autumn fills my lungs, grounding me in the present moment. I need to focus on what’s important right now – making things right with Rowan.

God, I was such an ass to her.

My sister’s hurt expression flashes in my mind, twisting my gut with guilt. I’ve always prided myself on being the supportive one, the peacemaker. How did I mess up so badly?

I square my shoulders, determined to put this right. I’ll call Rowan as soon as I get home, maybe even stop by her place with a bottle of wine. We’ll have a laugh, and I’ll get to the bottom of what’s bothering her.

As I start walking toward my apartment, that nagging feeling of being watched lingers. I resist the urge to glance over my shoulder, focusing instead on the warmth of the streetlights and the familiar sounds of the city at night.

I pause at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. The streetlamps flicker to life as dusk settles over the city. A cool breeze rustles through the trees lining the sidewalk, carrying with it the scent of fallen leaves.

That’s when I see it – a raven perched on top of the nearest lamppost. Its glossy feathers shimmer in the artificial light, and its eyes…they’re fixed directly on me. There’s an unsettling intelligence in those dark eyes, almost as if it’s trying to convey a message.

Don’t be ridiculous, Mia. It’s just a bird.

But a raven sitting right beside a busy street? What are the odds?

I shake my head, trying to shake off the eerie feeling. The light changes, and I hurry across the street. When I glance back, the raven is gone.

Oh, come on. You’re letting your imagination run wild.

I take a deep breath, forcing my thoughts in a more positive direction. There’s so much to look forward to – the anniversary party, spending time with my sisters, seeing Gran tomorrow. Everything’s going to be fine. Great, even.

As I continue my walk home, I focus on party plans. Maybe we could enchant some fairy lights for the garden. Oh, and thoselittle appetizer spoons that float from guest to guest! Mom and Dad will love that.

A smile tugs at my lips as I picture the whole family together, laughing and celebrating. It’s been too long since we’ve had a proper gathering. This party is exactly what we all need.

With each step, I feel my earlier unease start to fade. By the time I reach my apartment, I’m humming softly to myself, my mind full of twinkling lights and dancing roses.

2

Chapter 2

Soren

Istand at thewindow, gazing out at the glittering cityscape below. Five hundred years, and still the sight of human ingenuity never fails to captivate me. The stark lines of my apartment reflect in the glass – the rough-hewn walls of the industrial-style loft are so different from the ornate furnishings I once favored. Yet a few carefully chosen artifacts remain, silent witnesses to the centuries I’ve lived.

My fingers trace the cool surface of the window. How long has it been since I truly felt the warmth of the sun? Sometimes, I wonder if the price of immortality was worth it. The petty squabbles of vampire society grow more tiresome with each passing decade. We have the gift of eternal life, yet we waste it on power plays and outdated feuds.

“Fuck’s sake,” I mutter, rubbing the tight muscles of my shoulders.

There must be more to this existence. A way to find meaning beyond the endless cycle of feeding and politicking. I’ve tried to distance myself from it all, but the bonds of vampire society are not so easily broken.

A sharp knock at the door breaks through my brooding. I tense, nostrils flaring. An unexpected visitor at this hour? Nothing good ever comes from surprises in our world.

I open the door, my eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “Maxwell? What brings you here?”

Maxwell Kern stands before me, a forced smile on his face, his normally impeccable silver hair disheveled. “Can’t a maker visit his progeny without an agenda?”

I step aside, allowing him entry, but wariness prickles at the back of my neck. In five centuries, Maxwell has never once set foot in my personal space. Something’s wrong.

“Of course,” I say smoothly, masking my unease. “Can I offer you a drink?”

Maxwell nods, his gaze sweeping across my apartment. I pour two glasses of blood from a decanter, handing one to him as we settle into the leather armchairs by the window.

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