Page 86 of A Heart Of Bitter Poison
My sword lies next to my hand but I don’t pick it up. I run through everything that happened. I remember seeing the vampire pull her prey into the alley and prepare to bite. I remember the look of panic on her face when I spun her around. Her eyes grew so large and round with the sight of me that I almost laughed.
Her shoulder was pleasantly cool beneath my palm. She refused to speak, but she didn’t have to. Her bright hazel eyes, those plump lips. Her features, delicate yet strong. Modern yet ancient. So beautiful. She conveyed every thought and challenge, every fear with just a look.
I remember the fight with the wolves. She was fearless. She was having… fun. There was a spark in her eye when she turned to me and smiled with blood on her fangs. And she was strong. Fast. Fluid and graceful. More skilled in fighting than any of her kind that I’ve seen in the last centuries.
I remember the bite she suffered to her arm. I pulled her from the battle. Her stomach was so cool beneath my palm and I didn’t want to let her go. I shouldn’t have given it another thought to see a vampire die in the jaws of the werewolves, as long as they did not take her away alive to make another monstrosity. But indifference isn’t what I felt. It felt wrong to let them have her. I couldn’t let her fall.
I took her arm when the fight was done. There was pain on her face… and then there was alarm.
The path of the shewolf’s blade still burns in my back and all the way through my chest to where it slipped through the other side.
Angelwing poison. Pain like I have never known. The feeling of an impending, everlasting death. I remember knowing the vampire would leave me behind to die, just like any immortal would when faced with a Reaper.
Except she didn’t.
It’s coming back to me from a haze. The way she looked at me, as though she felt like it was the right thing to do. So brave and reckless. She bit into her arm, I remember that. The way her thick blood dripped into my wound. Her ancient power warming my chest. The feeling of her, alive in my veins. And her words. Her spell.
Her voice. That otherworldly, enchanted, haunting voice.
I remember now.
It was Leucosia of Anthemoessa.
It shouldn’t be possible, but it’s true.
I grasp my sword and struggle to my feet. The fire comes to life on my blade just as the human prey begins to stir.
I will find her. And I will protect her.
I need to know why she saved me. The last of the original sirens, the rarest immortal.
I need to know if she felt the way I did, if only for a moment.
I gasp as my blood drips down the dagger in my palm and into Ashen’s wound, starting to seal the injury I’ve just inflicted. “You knew. From the first night, you knew who I was.”
Ashen nods. I can see on his face that the pain has begun to lessen as his chest slowly closes.
“Why didn’t you tell me when you dragged me out to the church gardens the next day? Or any of the days after that?”
Ashen pulls the dagger from my hand and looks at the mixture of our blood on the blade. My heart thuds a few nervous beats against my bones. “I wanted you to be able to trust me enough to tell me yourself.”
I slow my motion and just look at him for a long moment. The sparks in his eyes grow brighter as he threads his hand into my hair and draws me down into a kiss. Our blood mixes in my mouth and sets a tingling current through my veins. Without breaking our connection, he rolls us over and rises to his knees, thrusting into me with powerful strokes.
I pass him the dagger. He offers his wrist. My heart thrums in my ears as I place a kiss above his veins before I bite deep into his flesh.
I pull once as he pistons into me and growls with desire.
I drink again and he comes alive in every cell.
One last, deep drink and I let go. He hesitates and I see a flash of fear in Ashen’s eyes.
“Now, Ashen. I’ll tell you when to stop.”
He pushes the blade into my chest and I can’t help but cry out in pain. But the pleasure is just as deep and consuming.
Ashen’s rhythm falters and the blade halts.
“Don’t stop,” I whisper, gripping onto his waist. He thrusts into me and I moan, trying to keep still beneath him. I place my other hand over the fist that grips the handle of the blade. “Deeper, Ashen.”
