Page 14 of How to Dump a Vampire

“On the contrary. I prefer my meals passive,” he retorts, yet a shadow crosses his face that gives me pause. For all his teasing, much about this vampire remains closed off.

My instincts bristle, warning me not to prod deeper.

We pass the time with lighter conversation until I need to place the dough by the warm stove to rise, covered with a tea towel. Draven lounges with his usual casual entitlement, but I notice he sticks close, eager to talk or offer unsolicited opinions. I tell myselfthat he’s just bored and that he doesn’t truly enjoy my company.

“You know, once this storm passes, I will be quite famished after our bread and porridge diet,” he remarks. “How about making a pack for my return? Maybe an extra loaf to go?”

The thought of Draven leaving twists my gut strangely.

I keep my tone light. “Eager to escape me, are you?”

He tilts his head. “I have things and people who are relying on me. I need to return as soon as I can, but I admit it’s tempting to stay.” His voice drops lower, warming me more than the fire.

I still my hands, heartbeat quickening. Drat this bond tightening between us!

“Well then, you will be glad to hear that you won’t be walking anywhere. I can use my magic to send you home. We just need to wait the storm out first.”

“You can do that? Why didn’t you send me home right away?”

“First, you weren’t exactly coherent when I found you. Second, the storms in this part of the forest are filled with wild magic. It could affect the spelland send you somewhere completely random… if you reappear at all.”

A smirk spreads on his face, “You’re concerned for my safety so much you couldn’t bear the thought of me coming to harm?”

I turn away, flustered. “Let’s check your fire. I’ll need much more wood for baking.”

Draven frowns at the deflection but obediently grabs the iron poker. I exhale in relief as he crouches before the hearth, stoking the logs back to crackling life, then swiftly crosses the creaking floorboards to peer outside.

My heart sinks. Snow still falls in relentless sheets, coating the landscape in undulating drifts. The weather remains firmly against us. Against me, specifically, it sometimes seems, preventing Draven’s departure and this troublesome attraction brewing between us.

I bite my lip, scanning the wooded horizon until my gaze snags on the snow-capped shed. The firewood stores! Between distracting games and conversation, I’ve let them dwindle far too low for Draven’s voracious appetite these past few days.

I turn back to suggest he take an inventory, only to find him watching me expectantly from his casual sprawl in my armchair.

“We’re nearly out of firewood,” I announce. “I’ll head to the woodshed while the dough rises. There’s a rope to help me find it in the snow.”

Draven is on his feet in an instant. “Nonsense. You’ve already done plenty of cooking and cleaning. You’re exhausted. Allow me.”

He grabs his cloak off its hook before I can respond. I watch, bemused and conflicted as he wraps the woolen garment tightly around his shoulders. Odd to see someone else volunteering to do the household chores that normally fall solely to me, though likely Draven aims more to escape boredom than assist.

I nod. “Very well. There’s a rope from door to shed. Don’t let go of it, or you will get lost in the storm.”

Draven scoffs but indulges me with a slight nod.

I bundle him up further in my thickest cloak, muffler and mittens, trying to ignore his distracting nearness. Last, I put a bracelet on his wrist with a small charm and whisper a spell of connection. Gods, his hands brushing mine almost kindle sparks through my body again. I quickly step back once finished.

“Be quick, and call if you need me. The storm is loud, but I will be able to hear you with this,” I say brusquely to cover my fluster as I point to the bracelet.

Draven’s eyes gleam at my poorly masked concern, but he simply hefts the snow shovel and strides out into the swirling whiteness. I watch his silhouette fade, an odd anxiety twisting my gut. Draven is clever, I tell myself. He won’t take unnecessary risks.

I occupy myself preparing the oven, but as the minutes creep by, unease mounts. Draven should have returned by now. I glance outside but can barely make out the shed’s shape through the deepening snow banks.

A strange tingling feeling pricks at the back of my neck, like invisible strings tugging me out into the storm. I frown, rubbing the odd sensation away. Is it some mystical prompt from our unwelcome mate-bond spurring me to action? Or simply my own conscience worried for the safety of a guest under my care?

I hesitate, uncertain if going after Draven would make the pull of fate between us even stronger.

The premonition intensifies, my heart growing anxious as I imagine him lost and disoriented in the blizzard’s fury.

Worry wins out. Securing my second warmest hooded cloak around me, I whisper a warming incantation into the fibers before braving the blizzard, staying tied to the rope. Snow whips around me, but my cloak’s magic keeps the worst chill at bay.

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