Page 19 of How to Dump a Vampire

My treacherous heartbeat picks up at the sound of my name on his lips.Shut up, stupid fickle heart. We are sticking to the plan.

I shake my head, keeping focused on fixing these sandwiches. From the corner of my eye, I see Draven start to reach for me then think better of it. Even hisnear touch raises goose bumps on my arm. Dangit! I quickly step away to put more space between us.Take that, pesky mate bond.

Looking uncertain, Draven stands there in the middle of my cottage, seeming so lost it tugs at my blasted soft heartstrings.Get it together, Thorn.This temporary cold shoulder routine is necessary if we’re ever to break free of each other.

As I arrange the food on two plates, I hear Draven approach behind me, cautious as one might creep up on a cornered wolf. I brace myself, gripping the table edge.Do not turn. Do not invite conversation or the temptation of his nearness.

“Thorn.” His voice comes gently over my shoulder. “Why won’t you tell me what I’ve done? We don’t know how long we will be stuck together in here. Does it have to be so painful?”

My eyes flutter half-closed. Just the melodious sound of my name on his lips sparks a warm blossoming in my chest that spreads and aches. I harden my heart against it.You will not sway me from logic, vampire.

ly, keeping my focus on preparing the snack. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Draven’s hand rise asthough to touch my shoulder then fall away once more. The ghostly impression of his touch lingers on my skin. I shiver and step out of his reach, crossing the room to set his plate on the far end of the table. Distance. Yes, that’s best.

Draven stands uncertain in the center of the cottage, eyes clouded, looking utterly lost. I feel a pang at being the cause of such sadness in his striking features, but this standoff cannot be helped if we’re to have any hope of breaking this accursed bond.

I gesture woodenly at the seat opposite me, not meeting his gaze. “Come. Eat before it gets cold.” I know it makes no sense. The sandwiches are already cold, but I can’t think clearly anymore. I need him to leave before I slip up and go too far.

He doesn’t argue, though a muscle in his jaw twitches as if he’s biting back questions.

We eat mostly in silence, my rules a chaperone forcing space between us at the small table. When Draven’s hand accidentally brushes mine as he reaches for his mug, I jerk my own back swiftly, ignoring the tingling remnant on my skin.

We make stilted small talk about the weather, the food, and the firewood, inane topics like two strangersforced into close quarters, not whatever it is this mating bond seeks to make us.

I endure Draven’s brooding silences and sad-eyed glances with stoic resolve. It is better this way, I remind myself, even as my chest twists at the absence of our easy banter. Never should we have allowed such familiarity between us. Once the storm clears, things can go back to how they were before fate meddled—Draven free to his wanderings and I, once more, blissfully alone. Two lives woven only by the barest filament now painstakingly severed.

It doesn’t matter if my cottage will feel several degrees colder, missing the lively fire Draven sparked within me. This numbing emptiness is far safer than the terrifying precipice of hope and intimacy I briefly peered over before fear yanked me back. His kind are why I am here, why I have to stay hidden. I can’t let myself soften for any reason.

No, it’s decided. My rules will steer us clear of that chasm’s edge until Draven can safely get on his way and I can get back to my solitary existence. We only need to endure the discomfort of this new awkward tension between us a little while longer. Once thesnow melts, hopefully this fated mate connection will melt away too, like footprints in the drifts outside.

At least that’s what I keep telling myself.

By the time we’ve cleaned up the quiet, stilted meal, I’m exhausted from constantly battling my feelings, which keep getting in the way of logic. I need a break from those soulful silver eyes, which seem to peer right through my fortified walls.

Murmuring some excuse about being tired after nursing an ill Draven—which isn’t a total lie—I retreat to my bed in the nook by the fireplace and pull the curtain closed for privacy. Only then, in the sanctuary of shadow, do I finally unclench my jaw and allow my shoulders to slump, drained from keeping up that rigid, impersonal facade all day. Denying my desires is proving more difficult than anticipated, but I can’t let myself weaken, or Draven might rekindle flickers of hope in my heart. I can’t do that. I’ve already learned what happens when I let hope blossom. It never turns out well. I’ve lost everything before because of it.

I sit, listening to the muffled sounds of Draven moving quietly about the cottage. Thanks to our supernatural connection, I’m annoyingly attuned to hispresence even through the divider curtain. He probably thinks I’m being fickle and moody, getting all passionate with him one minute only to give him the cold shoulder the next. If only he knew the ghosts of my past that make it too perilous to act on our feelings.

I rub my arms against the pervasive chill despite the fire crackling steadily in the hearth. Keeping my distance from the man I’m meant to take comfort in leaves me feeling hollow and lonely. I chose this guarded separation between us for our own safety. So why does it have to sting so bitterly?

***

Ugh, these old pages are making my nose itch something fierce, but I’ve gotta keep searching through this spellbook if I’m gonna find a way to break the mate bond that is still somehow forming between me and Mr. Tall, Pale, and Mysterious over there.

I tip the heavy leather tome titled Cryptic Spells at an angle so Draven can’t peek at the contents from where he’s sitting and poking at the fire. As far as heknows, I’m just casually perusing some light reading to pass the time in our snowy imprisonment together.

If only he knew the truth—that I’m desperately trying to find some untraceable magic to undo whatever supernatural connection is sparking to life between us before it’s too late. Before he realizes we’re being tied together by the red strings of fate and uses that power to get all controlling and suffocate my freedom.

Been there, done that. To them, I wasn’t a person, just a powerful monster to be controlled and exploited. Then, it all turned on me, literally, and I was hunted by the very people I helped.

I force several deep breaths to calm myself down. This tricky mating bond could destroy the safe little world I’ve built if I don’t find a way to snip those tangled ties pronto.

I must stay focused if I’m gonna uncover some solution here, even as my inconvenient crush on Draven wars with my logic. Isn’t there a spell for dissolving connections without a trace? I skim past confusing incantations for summoning spirits, forgetting memories, and manipulating feelings. Ugh, nothing helpful!

I risk a peek over at Draven, who’s rising from his chair all sinuous and cat-like. A sliver of pale skinshows as he stretches, making my pulse skip embarrassingly.Get it together, Thorn! Focus on research, not the hot vampire whose kiss you can’t stop thinking about!

“Gonna grab some more firewood before it gets dark,” he says casually.

I make a vague sound of reply, pretending to be lost in my reading. Honestly, I’m hyperaware of his every movement, our bond pulling me toward him like a magnet.

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