Page 20 of Blood Freed

Her scent still lingers – lightning and sweet, honeyed nectar. I’ve caught traces of it before, through cell bars and across guarded spaces, but nothing prepared me for the intensity when she finally stood close enough to touch.

So close. Too close.

I almost lost my tenuous control. And that would get us both into shit.

The memory of her lips haunts me, soft yet demanding against mine. That single kiss held all the restrained longing I’d finally sated the night before I got her out of that shithole. Except all it did was give me a need for more. Now, I feel like a starving man who’s just been given a glimpse of a banquet. My mouth waters. Her taste…sweet and electric as our lips met. My fangs achedwith the need to sharpen, but I held back. I had to hold back. I know she did, too.

You did the right thing.

When our hands met at the barrier, power surged between us. Her magic called to something in my blood, ancient and primal. For one brilliant moment, I dared to hope. The barriers thinned, became permeable. I could feel her warmth more clearly, her racing heartbeat echoing through my bones.

We could break through. We could…

But I knew we couldn’t. Not then. Not with Morgan watching, ready to strike. Still, for that precious instant when I pulled her closer, when our powers merged, and the air sparked around us – I felt whole. Complete in a way I haven’t experienced in centuries.

Because you felt her…inside you.

I think back to that strange sensation I’ve been feeling more and more intensely. As if she’s within me.

That connection.

What the hell is it?

It feels like the Maker’s Bond, only gentler. Tender. And somehow, more compelling, more irresistible than the harsh compulsion of Maxwell’s grip over me.

As these thoughts spill through my mind, something starts to dawn on me. By allowing this connection with Mia to deepen, I’ve painted a target on her back. Lucien’s earlier visit made that clear – his false concern barely masking the predatory gleam in his eyes when he mentioned her name.

He’s wanted her blood from the start. Now, he’ll want her even more.

My fingers clench against the silver chains, welcoming the searing pain. It’s better than the memory of Mia’s warmth, of her determination to help me despite everything she’s endured.She’s already suffered a year of captivity because of vampires. Because of me.

And now you’ve made her even more vulnerable.

Lucien will use her to control me, just as he’s using whatever leverage he has over Maxwell. I’ve seen his methods before – the careful manipulation, the slow tightening of the noose until his victims have no choice but to comply.

The scent of burning flesh fills my nose, but it’s not from the silver. For a moment, I’m transported back three centuries – watching helplessly as flames consume the wooden stake where Ingrid stands bound. Her blue eyes meet mine one last time, filled with understanding even as the smoke chokes her screams. I couldn’t save her. Wouldn’t save her because I feared what she’d become if I turned her.

Just like you. Hollow. Alone.

The memory twists in my gut. Different time, different witch, same goddamn weakness. I told myself I was protecting Ingrid by not turning her, but in the end, my hesitation killed her. Now history mocks me with cruel symmetry – another witch I care for, another impossible choice.

But this time, it’s worse. The connection between Mia and me runs deeper than anything I felt with Ingrid. Every moment we’re together strengthens it but makes her more vulnerable to those who would use her against me.

She’s already been through enough.

The truth settles like ice in my veins. My presence in her life will only bring more pain, more danger. Lucien will never stop hunting her as long as he can use her to control me. Although that will just be a convenient benefit. Her blood will be the main attraction.

The Assembly will condemn me. Five centuries of watching vampire politics have taught me to recognize a predetermined verdict. Lucien’s tendrils of influence reach too deep, his alliestoo numerous. The evidence against me reads like a death sentence – and it damns me from both a vampire and a witch perspective: running a facility that held witches captive, defying my maker, breaking vampire law. Each charge alone could mean execution. Together, they guarantee it.

Maxwell’s position twists the knife deeper. I’ve never seen my maker so controlled, so careful with his words. That slight tremor in his hands when Lucien spoke, the way his eyes wouldn’t quite meet mine – Maxwell is terrified. And a terrified ancient vampire is more dangerous than an angry one. Whatever Lucien holds over him must be devastating.

I shift on the bunk, collecting my thoughts. Lucien’s influence has grown significantly in recent years. He’s positioned himself perfectly – the concerned advocate for vampire security, the voice of old values and strength. Even those who distrust him will follow his lead if he frames my actions as a threat to vampire society.

My options are limited. I could try to expose Lucien’s schemes, but without proof, it’s my word against his. And right now, my word means nothing. I could attempt to break the Maker’s Bond with Maxwell, but that would likely kill us both. Running isn’t possible while these wards hold me.

That leaves one path – and it’s narrow as hell. If I can get word to someone on the inside with connections, who also understands Assembly politics and knows Lucien’s true nature, maybe I’ll be able to reach the right allies before the Council convenes.

The real question is whether I can protect Mia while fighting this battle. Lucien will target her the moment he realizes she’s my weakness. And she is my weakness – the silver burns, but the thought of her in danger burns deeper.

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