Page 67 of Shadow Bound

“Thanks,” I say dryly.

“Don’t mention it.”

Esme watches me, her dark eyes, like a pair of obsidian gems scan me. Winslow looks at you like she’s seeing into your soul; Esme looks at you like she’s seeing everything, your secrets, your past and your future. It makes me squirm. Unable to stand it any longer, I back away toward the door. “I don’t need to be here, I’m fine.” I really do feel somewhat better after throwing up.

“Don’t listen to her, she threw up a bunch of disgusting black shit. Something isdefinitelywrong.” Winslow stomps toward me, and grabs my arm, yanking me farther into the shop, closer to where Esme is looking at me in shock.

“You vomited? Vampires and fae don’t get sick.” Esme’s dark brows shoot up.

I blink at the woman blandly. “I’m aware of this.”

“Have you been feeling ill?” Esme prods.

“I’ve been feeling off for a couple of months.”

Esme reaches for my wrist without asking, her warm fingers press to my pulse point there, checking my heart rate. If my odd rhythm worries her, she doesn’t say so.

“What exactly do you mean byoff?”

“I went long stretches without feeding, that made me weak and not feel like myself. And then when I finally did get blood, my body took some time acclimating to it.” I shrug off her concern, even though I’m panicking inside.Something is wrong.

“Have you ever felt as sick as you do now, before now?”

“Right after I left Sterling’s organization, I had a two-week time frame where I didn’t feel well, some stomach and head pain, but it mostly subsided.”

“Hmm.” She gives me an odd look, one I can’t decipher before tugging on the wrist she still holds. “Come upstairs with me. Winslow, will you please turn off the open sign?”

Esme leads me to the office upstairs, a big window at the front of the room looks over the street and brings in tons of light, making it brighter and less gloomy feeling than it does downstairs. “Take a seat.” She points at a metal stool that’s next to a large wooden work table that’s littered with different glass jars and open books.

Esme digs through a bookshelf for a minute before finding a black leather-bound one with bright red script on the cover. She takes a seat next to me, holding the book tight to her chest. “Isabeau, I’ll be honest, what you’re describing, it shouldn’t be possible. Your body should be able to fight off any virus or infection. If you were a firstborn vampire, it would make perfect sense, but seeing as you’re what—twenty?—you’re clearly not one of the firsts.”

My body goes stiff as I consider her words. She has no idea what my true origin is. Ransom only found out because Noah outed me. Shifting uncomfortably in my seat, I clear my throat. “I’mnot one of the first vampires, but I’m related to one,” I admit. “My mother is Nessa Claremont.”

As if I’d told her Satan himself had spawned me, her face contorts. “Nessais your mother?”

Winslow, who’d just climbed the wooden stairs, comes to a stop at the top of them, her doll-like eyes are filled with confusion. I highly doubt she knows who the hell we’re talking about. In her defense, most people don’t know that any of the first vampires still exist. They’re more commonly whispered about as if they’re scandalous myths or legends.

“Biologically, yes, but—” My words are cut off by a sudden violent coughing fit. Covering my mouth with my hands, I feel something wet spray on them. When the coughing subsides, I pull my hands away and find they’re covered in the same black substance I’d thrown up.

Esme takes in my hands and face. “Oh dear.”

Winslow runs into a walk-in closet off to the side and returns with a clean cloth. “I’ve got you.” Without asking or hesitating, Winnie wipes off my bottom lip and chin before moving to my hands. Again, I’m thrown by the nurturing gesture.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble.

Folding the cloth over to a clean spot, she shoots me a confused look. “Why are you apologizing? You have nothing to be sorry for, dude. You’re sick or something—this isn’t your fault and I want to help.”

I force myself to sit still while she continues to clean off my hands. When she’s done, she turns her attention to her aunt. “Do you know what’s wrong?”

“I think I might.” Esme nods, her fingers tapping on the leather book she still holds.

Winslow purses her lips and waves her hand at Esme. “And?”

“This hasn’t happened in a long time; it’s been centuries since something like this occurred. I honestly didn’t think the lore was true.”

“Esme, can you not talk in code right now?” I snap at her, irritation at not knowing what’s wrong with me making me impatient.

“Much like shifters, the first vampires had mates—bloodmates. A lot of the time, they went their whole lives without finding them. Usually, they found them completely by accident. For the firstborns, their bonds were created through blood. Their mates could either be another vampire or human, there was no telling which species their mates would end up being. Not until blood was shared. If they ingested even the smallest drop of blood from their destined mate, a bond that could only be broken by death would start to form. The vampire could then only feed from their mate, any other blood would slowly begin to poison their body.”

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