“Yes.” Her voice breaks. “The potion I drank. I did it…I thought I was drinking it to save you. I didn’t know they wouldcompel me to do…such evil.” She whispers the last words, her beautiful face ashen.
My grip tightens reflexively. “Save me from what?”
“From them,” she whispers. “From the coven that cursed you. They wanted your soul, your ancient blood, Lucien. I gave them mine, made a bargain to keep you safe. But…it bound me for an eternity, instead.”
The room tilts. I take a step back, the world blurring around her face. “You expect me to believe that?”
“I don’t expect anything,” she says quietly. “But it’s the truth.”
Anger rises again, my oldest companion. “You could have found a way to send word. A sign. Anything.”
“I tried.” Her voice breaks completely now. “The wards silenced everything. Even my own name.”
I shake my head, pacing the narrow space, fury clawing up my throat. “Two centuries of silence, Elara. Two centuries thinking you chose them over me. Do you know what that does to a man?”
Her eyes shine wet in the candlelight. “Yes.” She steps forward, tentative, brave. Raises a hand to my cold cheek. “It turns him into you. Beautiful. Deadly. Viciously mine.”
For a moment, neither of us moves.
Then she lifts her hand and touches my chest, right over the heart that died for her. “But if I’d told you the truth before that dreadful night, you would’ve gone to war for me. And you would have perished.”
Her words land with the weight of inevitability. I want to deny them. I want to accuse, to curse, to sink my teeth into her and make the past stop mattering.
Instead, I do the only thing left.
I pull her back into my arms and kiss her again—deeper, rougher, until she moans my name and I taste the salt of tearsand the metal of blood on her tongue. The sound tears through me, unraveling every cruel thing I’ve built to survive her loss.
When I break away, I’m shaking. My fangs ache with the need to rend and rip. I bite into my lower lip just to ease the agony. “You should’ve believed in me, Elara. Enough to know I would’ve vanquished every last one of them for you.”
Her breath shudders and her lashes tremble against her cheeks. “You don’t understand,” she whispers. “They showed me what they could do…what they would do to you.”
I freeze. “What are you talking about?”
“They toyed with you, Lucien. Twice.” Her voice fractures, memory bleeding through. “Do you remember that fight with Vincent Delaurier in the catacombs beneath Paris when his men ambushed you and slit your throat before your body could heal? It wasn’t Vincent. It was them. They spelled the knife they used. And the second time, all they needed to make a sigil-curse was a drop of your blood. I…I’d just drank from you. They took your blood from me and that was enough to lure you to the chord and chained you to that altar in Rouen, let the dawn burn your skin while they laughed. As demonstrations go, it was a powerful one. They told me if I didn’t swear the binding vow, they’d do it again. A third time.” Her eyes meet mine—broken, defiant. “And the third time, they said, it would be fatal.”
I inhale sharply, take one step back from her. Then another, the rage and disbelief rising like a storm. “So you hid yourself away for centuries because of their foolish threats?”
“Foolish? No, because they could kill you!” she snaps, voice shaking. “Because I couldn’t bear to watch them try again, and succeed!”
My hand tightens on her wrist. “Then why are you here, Elara? If you’ve been so terrified for me all this time, why appear tonight? Is this another trick? Another cruel game they’ve sent you to play?”
I stare at the crimson stain on her lips, the instrument of yet another betrayal. She just kissed me. “Are you here for more of my blood?”
She flinches, her gaze darting past me, as if she’s hearing something I can’t. “I don’t know. I shouldn’t be here. Something—something called me.”
“A spell?” I demand. “Their spell?”
She shakes her head, confusion warring with pain. “I can’t tell. I only knew I had to come. That you or your ghost would be here.”
She glances at the door and every dead cell in my body freezes. “You’re not leaving.” My voice is rough and feral and poised for the kind of violence that shatters kingdoms.
“I can’t stay,” she whispers, taking a step back, eyes wide and terrified.
I catch her arm again, harder this time. “Why not? Tell me the truth. Is this another torture session, Elara? Another curse they’ve bound you to deliver?”
Her lips part, but the words don’t come. She looks lost—truly lost—as if her mind is turning against itself.
“Say it,” I murmur, leaning close enough for her pulse to brush my lips. “Say you didn’t love me all this time. If you won’t tell me why you need to leave, then at least be brave enough to say you don’t love me. Be done with me, here and now, Elara, and I’ll let you go.”
