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One in exchange for another. A life for a life, basically. The only known witch to survive using the amulet against an Ancient was the creator, Talyssa Petrea, the original matriarch of Lavinia’s clan. Thalia’s mother. She herself was a vampire-witch hybrid.
We entrusted the amulet to Melissa, and when she began to speak the words, they weren’t against Jedidiah, but Drystan. Out of all of us, he was hit hardest by her betrayal. She was the first woman he had ever truly fallen in love with, but it had been nothing more than an illusion. A spell she’d cast to gain our favor. Jedidiah used her to get to us, and it almost worked.
If the amulet hadn’t reacted to her, Drystan would be a pile of ash instead of her.
“She isn’t Melissa,” Asher reminds him gently. Drystan nods, but I can see the cogs in his head turning, trying to separate the two. He can’t. That’s why he’s so ready to sacrifice Thalia for the greater good. “Thalia isn’t trying to manipulate or use us. She isn’t a pawn in Jedidiah’s game. She’s an innocent, Drystan. You know this.”
It’s the same argument we’ve been having for the last several days. Drystan is still dead set on using her against his sire, but Asher and I have become firmly against it. Not that it matters. We will follow Drystan’s lead, even if that means sacrificing her in the end. We’ve been brothers far longer than we’ve known the angel who is currently sleeping in Asher’s bed. She’s turned on her side, hugging one of Asher’s pillows to her chest, her raven hair falling softly over her cheeks.
We won’t give up the brotherhood we’ve built. I’ll follow Drystan in whatever he decides…
Except that the longer I watch her sleep, the harder it is to hold on to my resolve.
Chapter 32
Thalia
As I slowly awaken, the fog of unconsciousness clings to my mind like a thick veil. Fragments of memories trickle back to me, like water through a sieve. I can feel Asher’s cold body pressed against mine, his arms encircling me in a protective embrace, filling the air around me with sandalwood and ripe oranges. His muscular frame provides both comfort and vulnerability, making me feel like I’m someone he values and not just another one of his conquests.
A warmth spreads through my chest as he tightens his grip on my waist, his lips trailing kisses along my neck where he took his first bite. I no longer tense up at the thought of being fed upon. Instead, I lean into his touch, willingly offering myself as prey to this predator who only brings me pleasure with each sip he takes. The gentle puffs of air against my skin send shivers down my spine, and I find myself nestling further into his embrace, never wanting this moment to end.
But reality soon sets in as I become aware of my rumbling stomach and the urgent need to relieve myself. With a sigh, I reluctantly pull away from Asher’s grasp.
“Where are you going?” he murmurs, holding on to me tightly.
I smile softly at him before answering. “Nature calls.” It’s then that I realize it must be late. There’s no sunlight streaming through the stained-glass windows. “How long have I been asleep?” I ask curiously.
“Nearly fifteen hours, my petite sorcière,” Asher responds with a chuckle, brushing his fingers through my hair lovingly. Despite the discomfort in my bladder and hunger in my stomach, I can’t help but revel in this affectionate moment with one of the vampires who has stolen my heart.
Fifteen hours? My gaze travels to my hands, eyes rounding as I take them in. There’s no sign of the broken, bloodied flesh that was the result of my explosive magic. The skin is intact, with no lingering scars or blemishes. Hell, they might even be better than they were before.
“Vampire blood can be used to heal without having to ingest it,” Asher says softly. “We don’t use it often, but it comes in handy.”
My face pulls into a frown when he mentions using vampire blood. “Isn’t that how the strigoi were made?” Asher shakes his head. “There are only two ways to make strigoi,” he tells me, pulling me to sit up with him. “They either have to ingest large amounts of vampire blood, or they inject it. The poultice held a very small amount of my blood in it. Its only purpose is to help speed up the process of healing that the herbs inside already provide. Like an amplifier.”
I nod my head like I understand, but it’s still lost on me. As long as I don’t end up turning into a pale-skinned, red-eyed freak, I don’t care much. I’m simply grateful not to have permanent damage to my hands. Rising to my feet, I stumble slightly, my legs weak from being in bed for so long.
That, and I’m starving.
On quick feet, I make my way into Asher’s attached bathroom to relieve myself. The magic I used must have really drained me. The magic I used. Holy fucking fork balls. I used magic! Actual magic. Flushing the toilet, I go to the sink, turning on the taps and waiting for the water to warm.
I’m a witch. A real live fucking witch.
This is something I can use. Evan told me what I was, but part of me didn’t believe him. He doesn’t have the greatest track record of being honest, and I thought it was all a ploy to get me to spy for him. But he was right. Hot damn. Giddy excitement bubbles up inside me as I dry my hands off and make my way back into Asher’s room. The delicious vampire is already out of bed and fully dressed when I come out.
His dreads are pulled back into a girthy low pony, showcasing the jewelry on his ears. He’s wearing low-slung jeans and a white linen shirt beneath a grungy blue overshirt. The sleeves are rolled back, exposing his muscled forearms and biceps that are decorated with a plethora of colored tattoos. Shit, am I drooling?
“Come on.” There’s laughter in his voice as he places his hand on the small of my back and leads me out the door. “Let’s get you fed before you waste away.” Heat creeps into my cheeks when my stomach rumbles at his words. He throws his head back and laughs. The sound is beautiful, like bells ringing.
I can hear voices in the dining room. Particularly a woman’s. Her laughter sounds light and fairy-like. She says something I can’t hear, but whatever it was, it has Weylen and Drystan both laughing alongside her. A knot tightens in my stomach as jealousy sinks its way under my skin.
Asher leads me through the double doors, and I stop just beyond the threshold as I take in the scene before me. The table is laid out with enough food for a feast. I’m not sure how many people are eating, but there is enough here for an army. Or two.
All eyes turn to me, and I stand there fidgeting for a moment before slowly trailing behind Asher. Drystan stands from his seat at the head of the table and pulls out the chair to his left. The one right next to a beautiful raven-haired vampire. I immediately recognize her as the fighter from the other morning, the one training with Asher. She doesn’t stand when I approach, but her sharp gaze watches my every step like a cat about to pounce on its dinner.
Irena.
Clenching my fists at my sides as I sit, I offer her a terse smile. She doesn’t return it. The woman simply turns back to her coffee as if I’m nothing but dirt beneath her shoes…which happen to be Valentinos.
