Page 16 of Curiosity Killed The Vampire

Con’s hand found my face, tilting it toward him. His expression was hard, but his eyes… there was fear there, buried deep beneath the calm.

Raven’s voice came from beside me, breathless now. “You can’t keep doing this,” she said. “If you two keep linking like that without a bond, it’s going to kill you both.”

Silence stretched. My pulse thundered in my ears, the afterglow of power still crackling under my skin. Con’s grip tightened on my shoulders.

“She’s right,” I whispered, the words barely audible.

He didn’t answer at first, just looked at me for a long moment—the predator and the protector warring behind his gaze. Then he exhaled slowly, brushing a strand of hair from my face.

“Next time,” he said quietly, “we call her sooner.”

I agreed, despite my uncertainty. The magic between us was too strong, too bound by something neither of us could explain.

And as the room settled back into silence, I could feel the echo of that elusive bond still thrumming through the air—alive, dangerous, and growing harder to ignore.

CHAPTER 5

The hum of the engines had become a kind of lullaby, low and steady against the quiet press of the cabin air. Outside, night spread endless and cold, the clouds like dark waves beneath us. Quebec City glimmered far below—golden threads of light stitched across the black curve of the earth, winding along the river like veins of molten lava.

I sat by the window, chin resting on my hand, watching it approach through the glass. My reflection stared back at me—tired eyes, pale skin, a shadow of exhaustion that even sleep hadn’t erased.

Raven’s warning echoed in my head like a heartbeat.

If you keep doing this, Cass, if you keep sharing magic… it’ll create an irreversible bond.

I’d laughed at the time, or tried to. But later, when I was lying in my bed with the taste of lightning still on my tongue, the fear had set in. The kind of fear I never allowed myself to feel. Because I could fight enemies, I could kill monsters—but how did you fight something that was slowly binding you to another soul?

Raven had stayed until dawn, making sure my body could recover from the surge. She’d been gentle, her hands steady as she drew the excess power from my veins and whispered protective sigils under her breath. By the time she left, I’d been too drained to stand, too raw to think.

Con hadn’t said a word through any of it. He’d stood by the window in silence, watching the first traces of sunlight crawl across the floor, his profile carved in shadow. When the limo arrived to take us to the airfield, he helped me up without a word. The same silence followed us into the car, into the plane, and through the long stretch of sky between then and now.

He sat across from me, staring out his own window, hands clasped loosely on his knees. The muted light from the cabin lamps caught the gold in his eyes, but his expression gave nothing away. It was easier, somehow, to look at the glass than at him.

The plane began its descent, the hum deepening as the lights of Quebec grew brighter, closer. The sight hit me harder than I expected. The narrow streets, the layered rooftops, the old stone walls that curved along the river—it was like stepping back into another life.

“I missed this place,” I murmured to no one in particular.

Con didn’t answer, but I caught the glint of his gaze in the window reflection before he looked away again.

The tires hit the runway with a soft jolt. The engines roared briefly, then quieted as the plane slowed and turned toward the private hangar.

We disembarked into the crisp night air. The wind carried the familiar scent of snow, iron, and pine—the smell of home. A sleek black SUV waited near the edge of the tarmac, its headlights cutting through the mist.

The driver stepped out as we approached, his posture straight, his pale face breaking into a smile when he saw me.

“Cassara!”

“Luke,” I said, returning the smile as genuine warmth flickered through the fatigue. “It’s been a long time.”

He hurried around to open the back door for us. “Rene said you might stop by sometime, but I didn’t think it would actually happen.”

I climbed in, Con following silently behind. The doors shut with a muffled thud, sealing us in the familiar hum of the vehicle.

Luke pulled out onto the narrow road that wound away from the airfield, the headlights sweeping over patches of frost and the distant glint of the river.

He glanced at me in the rearview mirror, his youthful face full of that easy brightness that new immortals sometimes had before the centuries wore it away. “How’ve you been? You look… well, better than the last time you were here.”

“I’m fine,” I said, and meant it as much as I could. “How about you?”