Page 22 of Vampire's Breath

“It isn’t like I have anyone to give it to.” I sighed, thinking of the diamond and lapis stones set in silver. It was her favorite piece, and I didn’t want to part with it, but I would if I had to. My promise was more important.

Amy reached across the table. “You will. Maybe the journal Lorcan is bringing will help. Please don’t sell the necklace. See what he has first.” Her words tumbled from her mouth.

I stared into the center of the coffee shop. The man I’d run into caught my eye. He still held his partner’s hand. She laughed and whispered something to him. Their quiet conversation added a curious contrast to the lively bustle of the cozy café. But it wasn’t just that. They moved around each other with the kind of choreography that spoke of complete ease and familiarity. Their eyes glittered with love, their focus barely leaving each other. A pang of jealousy hit my chest. Maybe I wanted more than what my mother had taught me. The thought felt like a betrayal.

Amy cleared her throat, drawing my attention away from the couple. “What if I pay you the rental fee for the wedding now?”

My breath caught, and I shook my head before she could say more. “No, Amy. I’m not charging you to rent the garden center. I can’t do that.”

“Since the funeral, you’re obsessed with learning more about Lady Isobel. Let me help—not just by watching the garden center when you go, but actually help.” Amy reached across the table and gripped my hand, her sincerity calming my stomach.

I squared my shoulders. “There’s no way I can take that money from you. If I wait until March, the flights will be less expensive. I’ll be able to afford it by then. I just have to be patient.”

She nodded, seeing the resolve in my expression. “All right. But promise me you won’t sell the necklace.”

“I promise.” I swallowed the lump in my throat and wondered if I could keep my promise. “I’ll tell you, researching Lady Isobel is nothing like what I saw from my mother’s other research. This is so much harder than I thought it’d be. Somehow, she disappeared from history, despite many other records on convicts being incredibly detailed. It’s like someone didn’t want her to be found ever again.”

“Maybe all the vampires did their hocus pocus thing and made everyone forget.” Amy’s laughter floated across the room.

I giggled. “Oh my God. We’re done. You’ve officially lost it. Let’s go.”

She gathered the empty plates and cups, carrying them to the dish return near the front door.

As I stood, the gentleman I’d run into earlier caught my eye. He gave me a small smile and a polite nod. I drew in a sharp breath. There was something in his eyes—something familiar, though I couldn’t place it. A cold sensation crept up my spine, making me shiver as his clear blue eyes lingered on mine for just a moment too long.

I rushed to Amy. “Let’s get out of here,” I whispered, my heart flip-flopping.

Lorcan

Ipulled an old steamer trunk out from the back of my closet, brushing off the dust that had settled over decades. It had been a very long time since I’d opened it. I wasn’t even sure if its contents would still be intact or if time had reduced the leather and paper to brittle fragments.

I retrieved the small key from the hook inside the closet door. My fingers hesitated over the latch before I inserted the key and unlocked the trunk, the cool metal biting into my palm. The hinges creaked as I forced them open to reveal what appeared to be a bookshelf—my history, or at least part of it, lay out before me. The scent of aged paper wafted up, filling the surrounding air. Journals. A glimpse into lives long gone, memories I hadtried to bury. How many of these journals had I left at Dún Na Farraige? How many centuries of my past had I abandoned?

It was a minor miracle that the books were still intact. My fingers traced the spines, searching for the year of Lady Isobel’s trial. I removed the one I needed. I’d have to comb through its pages carefully, removing any pages that mentioned vampires, blood, or death to ensure there was nothing for Briar to learn. However, I had always been cautious in my writing, afraid someone might stumble across my words and use them against my family.

A knot tightened in my chest as I imagined Briar’s innocent hands leafing through these pages, oblivious to the darkness within me. For the past few days, every time I fell asleep, I pictured her brown eyes. Her gaze lingered in my dreams, warm and unguarded like sunlight breaking through the cloudy Irish skies.

My hand paused mid-page turn, the edge of the fragile paper threatening to tear under my grip. I’d always thought I’d wanted this life. Now, as I skimmed these words, I was no longer sure, but there wasn’t a way out. I eased over another leaf, my eyes running over the ancient lines.

“I spent the evening at a salon with my friends. And of course, Ashdowne was waiting for me afterward.”

I shook my head, the weight of the memory pressing down on me. What would happen if Briar ever learned the truth? That I was the same man she read about. That I had tried—honestly tried—to talk Ashdowne out of his murderous rampage? The thought of her reaction gnawed at me. I forced myself to stop thinking about her, to push the image of her from my mind. I knew it would be nearly impossible to drop the journal off and just walk away—to leave and not look back. But I had to because she would never love me once she knew the truth.

And there was still Aiden to worry about. It didn’t matter how much I wanted to deny it. If Aiden knew I cared, she would become a target to bring me to his side. Could I protect her from him? Or from me?

I laughed bitterly. “You mean the same protection Lord Harrowmont received?” I muttered to myself.

I never relished killing and hadn’t understood why Lord Ashdowne did. Forget about his obsession with Lady Isobel; when I turned him, the bloodlust changed him, and not for the better.

But, if I had been mistaken about him, could I be mistaken about Briar? Could she want to be with me? Not a chance. Not once she knew the truth about the monster within me. I compelled a woman every day to share her blood so I could survive. How could Briar ever overlook that part of me?

Her face on the night we first met flashed in my mind. She had lifted her glass slowly, her lips curving into a soft smile. She gazed at me, warm and unguarded. It had been so long since anyone looked at me that way. Of course, it probably didn’t help that I rarely left my house. But it didn’t matter; her look had stirred something in me—a wanting I thought was long gone.

But it couldn’t be just anyone. It had to be her.

My breathing quickened at my utter lack of control. My hand twitched on the cover. I wanted to slam the book closed, throw it across the room, and forget it all. The sharp crack of my hand hitting the wooden side of the trunk echoed through the quiet room, breaking the stillness like an accusation. Why couldn’t I have been born a normal human? Why did I have to bethis?A monster with a foot in each world.

What was the point of this continued existence? Why couldn’t I have a way out? If I made my way to the mountains, I could find a cave, bury myself inside it, and allow myself to desiccate. I would never have to think about her or worry about any of myfamily again. Of course, I wouldn’t be dead, but I wouldn’t be alive either, and I wouldn’t feel. The thought was oddly calming, almost settling—like it was something I needed to do.

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