Page 164 of Vameer

“Mother would tell me that my rage was a part of my Fire. Both lifesaving. Both destructive. And it was up to me to learn how to channel my power before it burned everything around me.” My throat tightens as I think of her. “She never had the same conversations with Volik. She didn’t think he was like us. But…” I remember the video of Volik facing off with those other vamps. I remember the way he didn’t back down. I remember the way he torched that guy. I remember the interview he gave after, the threat, the reference to The Trials, the inference that he was there. And I accept that my mother was wrong. “Volik and I are more alike than she knew.”

“Parents can wear blinders sometimes. Seeing what they want to. For better or worse.”

“She called him Miracle.”

“Volik?”

I hum. “I was fifteen when he was born. And we all doted on him. It’s almost unheard of for a vampire to have more than one child. Especially that close in age.”

Rune shifts, resting her ear back against my chest. “What was your home like?”

“We lived in a cottage made of stone. Large for the time, with ceilings built for a vampire. It was out in the countryside. My father liked to grow things and spend time with animals, so we had a little farm. Since we are so physically resilient, it’s always been easy for vampires to acquire and keep resources. We don’t need regular food, so we don’t have to worry about starvation like so many in human history have. We can see in the dark. Our bodies regulate our temperature. So we don’t need light, heat, or even shelter. It’s not comfortable to live outdoors for decades, but it is possible.”

“So… you’ve always had riches.” I can hear the smile in her tone.

“Sí.” I hold her tighter.

I don’t want to tell her the next part.

We stay silent for a moment, until Rune slides her hands down my sides in a hug. “Are they…” She doesn’t finish her whispered question. Doesn’t have to.

I swallow. “They are gone.”

More burnt apples singe the air. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too. They would’ve liked you.”

More silence.

Rune giving me time.

“My mother liked to garden. The crops were my father’s, but the flowers, the fruit trees…” I blink at the sky. “I forgot about the apple tree.” Pain fills my chest.

Rune’s arms tighten around me.

And… she purrs.

A soft, reassuring sound.

Love presses against the pain, and I breathe.

“She planted an apple tree, but… She did not get to see it bloom.” I slide my hands up under Rune’s shirt, placing my palms on the bare skin of her back. “I was twenty-one when my parents were murdered.”

My mate shudders with her exhale as dampness soaks into my shirt beneath her cheek.

Her purr increases in volume.

And I decide not to tell her the details. Not yet. Not the how.

And I decide I’ll never tell her about that second. That long, awful second, when my mother looked at me.

When our gazes locked.

When she knew.

She knew, and she didn’t want to go. Didn’t want it to be over.

I close my eyes.