Page 111 of Claimed By Fangs and Darkness
I scooped her into my arms before she could protest. We took the route with the least amount of foot traffic back to the glamoured turned neighborhood. As soon as we crossed the border, I let my mask fall so Evie could stare up into my familiar eyes.
My pace slowed. She relaxed deeper as she held my gaze.
“Good angel,” I praised. “Is there anything I need to know now that cannot wait until tomorrow morning?”
Evie’s eyes flashed. Fear, mostly, and somethingakin to doubt.
“Anything that puts you or the clan in immediate danger?”
She shook her head.
“Then let go, Evie. Tomorrow we will go over every detail. The turning ritual is in only a handful of days. You need to take care of yourself now, understood?”
“Okay,” she said with a frown. “But—” She cut herself off, merely nodding instead.
“Good girl,” I said. “I only care aboutyouright now. The rest can wait until you’ve come back to yourself.”
Inside the house, I wrote to Harmony, letting them know Evie was safe, and we were back in turned territory.
I took the book from Evie, the gift that had let her know Aster had been paying attention to her since she was a young child. The knowledge was eating away at her, and it killed me to see. I resisted the urge to pull a born move and burn the gift. Instead, I tucked it into a desk drawer to donate to a school. I’d buy Evie a new copy one day.
Aster had also revealed that he’d known about Evie’spowersince she was young. I wanted to hear everything, to connect more of these harrowing puzzle pieces. But that wouldn’t begood for either us, not when we were both so triggered by the past and her demons.
“Come on, baby,” I murmured, taking her hand in mine and led her to the bedroom. I undressed her and pulled one of my oversized shirts over her head.
I was rigid as I undid the bandage on her hand, paranoid I might find fang marks staring back.
Instead, it did indeed look like she’d sliced herself on glass.
“Did someone hurt you?” I asked, unable to keep that question at bay.
She stared at the floor when she shook her head. “I broke the glass I was holding. I lost control of my emotions.”
I inspected the cuts. She didn’t need stitches, and her witchy healing was working faster than the average mortal’s. I cleaned her hand and wrapped a fresh bandage around it to be safe.
Or maybe because I didn’t trust nor enjoy the idea of Aster taking care of her. Not like I could.
I kissed her forehead, grateful she was exactly where she belonged.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” I said.
“I’m sorry.” Her solemn gray eyes met mine. “It’s a good thing you’re immortal.”
“Don’t apologize. Tell me your mantra, Evie.”
She hesitated for only a moment to remember the declaration I’d been making her repeat ever since I tattooed her.
“I’m not sorry,” she whispered.
“Again.”
That sacred fire finally graced her irises, the fire that had so bravely led her into the lion’s den.
“I’m not sorry,” she hissed.
“That’s it, baby.” I stroked her cheek.
Shadows poured from her, holy smoke that submerged us both into darkness.
