The library seemed to close around her as soon as she crossed the threshold. It rose two stories high, with shadowed balconies wrapping each wall in a continuous ring of books and wrought iron. Ladders followed rails along the shelves like veins crossing an ancient body, while velvet curtains hung half drawn across tall windows, their weight muffling the world beyond the glass.
The shelves appeared almost black in the firelight, as though they had been carved, polished, and fed by time rather than merely stained. Thousands of leather-bound volumes watched from above, their titles pressed in gold, with some securedbeneath iron clasps as though the words inside might become dangerous if released without care.
The fireplace held Veya’s attention longest.
It occupied most of the far wall and burned with unapologetic force, wide enough to consume entire logs without effort. Flames climbed around iron andirons shaped like the paws of wolves, their talons planted in the ash as though the hearth itself possessed predatory intent. Heat rolled across the stone floor and enclosed the cavernous room, transforming it from a library into something closer to a den.
Dax crossed to the wall and used a flint to light two sconces. The first spark caught, flared, and settled into steady flame, painting bronze along the planes of his face as he turned toward her.
Veya had become far too aware of him during the walk back from the garden. She remembered the steadiness of his hand when he helped her stand, the ease with which he made her laugh, and the fact that he had released her the moment she no longer needed his support.
She disliked how readily her attention found him again.
“Leena used to sit here most evenings,” Dax said, indicating the chaise angled toward the hearth. “She would read whatever terrible paperback she had found and ignore the rest of us.”
A faint smile touched Veya’s mouth.
“You say that as though the rest of you were easy to ignore.”
“She was exceptionally talented.”
Veya lowered herself onto the chaise. The heat wrapped around her shoulders and seeped into the persistent ache in her newly transformed limbs. Although she no longer needed air, the warmth gave her the illusion that she could breathe more freely.
Dax remained near the hearth, watching the fire rather than her, but his awareness never entirely left the chaise. He had toldhimself that bringing her to the library was merely another way to stop the walls from closing around her.
He no longer entirely believed that explanation.
Veya’s hand moved suddenly to her abdomen.
At first, the sensation resembled a muscle tightening too deeply beneath the skin, but it rapidly became something sharper, coiling through her body where no ordinary pain belonged.
“Dax?”
The change in her voice pulled him around immediately.
Veya pressed her palm harder against her stomach as sweat gathered across her brow. Heat moved beneath her skin in invasive pulses, traveling through her veins as though her blood had become fire.
Dax reached the chaise before she folded forward. He dropped beside her and placed one steadying hand against her shoulder without forcing her upright.
“Veya, look at me.”
“I don’t know what—”
Pain severed the sentence.
Her abdomen locked, and a broken sound escaped as she doubled over. Dax caught her before she slid from the chaise, his hand moving from her shoulder to the back of her upper arm.
Her skin burned beneath his fingers.
The stored blood had fed her. Dax had watched the hunger recede and her control return, which meant this was something different.
The fresh maker tether was pulling.
Veya twisted as another wave moved through her. Her fingers dug into the upholstery, and her spine arched beneath a force she could neither understand nor resist. Her fangs descended without warning, pressing against her lower lip as her eyes lost focus.
Dax withdrew his phone and called Rhen.
“Answer,” he muttered while the line rang.
