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Could it kill us?
I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but that was before it physically propelled me across the room to Rylan. Before it made him forget himself enough to partially shift.
I could let the vampires deal with this current mess. They’re all older and more powerful than I am. I’m a fool if I think I can stand on equal footing with them in the coming confrontation, bond or no. They will always be stronger, always be more powerful.
If I hide, I’ll remain a pawn for the rest of my life, however long or short that ends up being. Dhampirs live longer than humans, but they aren’t borderline immortal like full vampires. I have no idea what the seraph lifespan looks like.
The list of what I don’t know only seems to grow longer with time, instead of shorter.
I sit up and sigh. There’s no help for it. The easy way isn’t the right way, and I’ve fought too hard for anything resembling freedom to simply hand off all the decision-making process to others. They might be more powerful, but I’m the linchpin in this mess.
Another soundless sigh and I leave the warmth of the bed and pull on the nearest piece of clothing—one of Malachi’s shirts. He’s updated his wardrobe a bit since we left the house, but he still favors the shirts that look like they’d be perfectly at home on historical romance novel covers. I like them. A lot. I’m swimming in all the white fabric, his tobacco and clove scent nearly as comforting as when he wraps his arms around me.
I’m still angry about last night. It irritates me to no end that I want him to comfort me while I’m mad at him. I inhale again, letting the last of my reservations fall away. As tempting as it is to hide from reality, I know all too well the reality will burst through the door without an invitation. Better to deal with things head-on.
The men haven’t stopped talking, but with their superior senses, they all know I’m awake and moving around. I pad barefoot out of the spare bedroom, down the hall, and into the sitting room where they’ve got a fire going.
Rylan is standing by the window, the light of the early morning putting his features in stark contrast. He looks as tired as I feel, his cheekbones a little too gaunt on his handsome face. Wolf lounges on one of the chairs. He’s got his leg dangling over the arm like an indolent king waiting to be entertained. Malachi sits on the couch, his elbows braced on his thighs. All three look at me with varying degrees of wariness.
I stop short. “We need to talk about last night.”
Malachi holds out a hand, motioning for me to join him on the couch. I almost go to him through sheer habit, actually take a step in his direction, before the memories of last night crash over me again. How he looked like he was going to murder Rylan. How I magically compelled him to leave the room against his will.
I don’t know if it’s sleep still clouding my mind or if the situation is just becoming too stressful and I’m in danger of shattering. Right now, I need to be calm and collected; an impossible task when every breath feels like I’m drowning, drawing in water instead of the air I desperately need.
I drop into the free chair. Disappointment flashes over Malachi’s face, but it’s gone so fast, I’m half sure it’s a trick of the firelight. I draw my knees up and wrap my arms around my legs. “We’re in over our head. I can’t control the bond, and it’s putting you in danger.”
Wolf snorts. “None of us were the one bleeding out last night.”
Rylan flinches, a barely perceptible movement I only catch out of the corner of my eye. I ignore it. “That was my fault. Or, rather, the bond’s fault. It never would have gotten so out of control if the bond didn’t exist and hadn’t messed with our control.”
“It was Rylan’s fault.” Malachi’s body might appear relaxed, but he looks like he wants to shred something with his bare hands. “He knew there was risk involved with resisting the proximity the bond demands. He played with your life.”
“That’s enough.”
“He’s right.” The words sound dragged from Rylan. “I knew there was a risk.”
I finally look at him. Even now, with the bond mostly sated, I feel the urge to cross the room and press my mouth to his skin. I clear my throat. “I knew the bond was being affected by avoiding each other, too.”
“You couldn’t know what it meant.”
That’s about enough of that. I level a look at each of them in turn. “I am not a child who needs others to make the decisions for me or take responsibility for my actions. Maybe I didn’t know the parameters of the bond, but there hasn’t been a living seraph in three out of four of our lifetimes. None of us have experienced a seraph bond before. As a result, there will be mistakes.”
