Vale walked to a chest against one wall and pulled a fur cloak from within, wrapping it around his shoulders.
Tharen’s wolves sat by the hearth, and Bastian found himself searching for the tiny kitten, a hiss lingering on his tongue when he spotted it bundled in a small ball in the corner, blending with the shadows.
Graves had tugged off his cloak and cowl, laying them near the hearth to dry. Pensive, he sat against the wall, fingers tangling with the chain of his amulet as he watched Luella.
Az sat on the edge of the furs, uncaring as Vale breathed smoke at the sight of the demon amongst his things. The firelight cast pointed shadows on his face from his horns. Head in his hands, his brows were drawn low over his amber eyes, staring at her. Always, staring at her.
Bastian let his Mind magic drift to the demon, brushing against his thoughts like smoke.
What he found was an amalgamation of fear, concern, worry, and…
Utter adoration.
Devotion.
Wrapping around his mind like heavy clouds, permeatingeverything, the sense of longing and yearning was startling.
Bastian nearly staggered back.
Gods. Az wasgonefor her. Desperately, unequivocally.
And the vampire knew—he knew—that Luella felt the same for the demon. Even if she couldn’t put it into words. Bastian did not need to go into her mind to realize that.
An uncomfortable squeezing sensation in his chest made him wince as he pulled away from the demon’s thoughts.
Was this…jealousy? Was Bastian jealous?
He rubbed a hand over his chest, walking further into Vale’s den. Maybe the demon had been right to pledge his devotion to her from the very first moment they met. Bastian wanted that—her love. He wanted her to feel safe with him, wanted to hold her, kiss her, care for her. Make her his.
Was it possible? Or had he fucked up beyond repair?
Az’s low voice drifted to him as Bastian stood by the furs:
"She hasn’t woken up yet. She needs the rest, but gods, I need to see her eyes."
"She’s okay." Bastian hoped his voice didn’t shake, fangs throbbing.
The mage kneeled by her side, running experimental fingers down her outstretched arm.
Bastian’s eyes drifted to her curled fingers and the sparkling thing in her palm. It seemed they all realized what it was at the same moment—Bastian felt his lips tug in a tired smile, Az grumbled lowly, and Vale’s hiss filled the den.
"She touched your hoard," Graves rasped. "Feeling like murder, Vale? Let’s take it outside." The male’s voice was low, despondent in a way, as he stared at her.
Bastian traced the air around Graves’s back, empty of wings. The secret must come out eventually, but the vampire wondered how she would react once it did.
Tharen made to remove the delicate charm bracelet from her palm, but Vale stopped him with a hiss.
"Leave it. It’s fine." The King’s words were clipped.
Bastian’s eyes widened. His Mind magic grazed Vale’s thoughts, afraid to evoke his ire—he sifted through thick smoke and drifting ash, finding a heavy amount of care bundled close in the middle. Possession laced his thoughts, drove his actions. An internal war against his beast. The volley of wills made Bastian’s temples pound, and he quickly extricated himself from the King’s mind. He didn’t know how Vale stayed sane—relatively.
Tharen cleared his throat. "I have to remove the glamor to see her wounds. She needs to be awake for that, so I won’t push too far. It’s a delicate process."
Vale nodded. "After she’s taken care of, we decide our next move."
They all agreed, and when Bastian met Tharen’s eyes, the mage looked away quickly.
Hiding something?
