Page 19 of Curiosity Killed The Vampire

I knew that handwriting immediately.

Selima.

My pulse ticked faster as I broke the seal, the scent of lavender rising from the parchment as I unfolded it. Her letters always carried that same trace—part perfume, part spellwork. My eyes skimmed the page quickly, catching phrases that made the corner of my mouth tighten.

Be careful. You and Constantine both. I know how trying this time can be.

I folded the letter slowly, slipping it into my jacket before my expression could betray anything. Trying time? Did she mean the artifact hunt—or the thing between Con and me? I had the feeling it was the latter.

“Is something wrong?” Con’s voice was low, as calm as ever, but his eyes were on me—assessing. He didn’t pry, but I knew he’d recognized Selima’s handwriting too. Everyone in Shadow Phantom did.

I forced a small, practiced smile. “Selima worries. You know how she is.”

His eyes held mine a heartbeat longer than necessary before he nodded once. “She always has.”

I wasn’t about to tell him the rest. Not that she’d written of him, of us. That her fear wasn’t for the mission or the clans, but for the thin, fragile thread binding us tighter each day.

Before the silence could stretch, Liam shifted his weight, his grin returning—far too oblivious to the sudden heaviness between us. “The courier who brought it said it was urgent,” he said brightly, then added, with far too much hope, “If there’s any chance I could get a little one-on-one with you sometime…?”

The sound that followed was low, dangerous, and primal—a growl that rolled up from Constantine’s chest like thunder under pressure.

The young man froze, eyes wide.

“Con,” I said quickly, laying a hand on his arm before the poor fledgling turned to stone. “It’s fine.”

But Con wasn’t looking at me. His gaze was fixed on Liam, golden eyes gleaming in the low light. It wasn’t jealousy in the human sense—it was something older, more instinctive. Possessive. Protective. The kind of warning that made even other vampires’ blood run cold.

Liam swallowed hard, clearly realizing his mistake. “Sorry,” he stammered, backing up a step. “I didn’t mean—I just thought⁠—”

“You thought wrong,” Con said evenly, his tone quiet but sharp enough to cut the air.

I pressed my palm more firmly against his arm, feeling the tension in his muscles, the restrained energy coiling beneath his skin. “He’s just a boy, Con,” I said softly. “Let it go.”

For a long moment, he didn’t move. Then, with a slow breath, the growl faded into silence.

“Of course,” he said finally, his voice smoothing back into composure as he stepped away from the courier. “I must have misunderstood.”

Liam nodded so quickly it was almost comical. “No harm done. Welcome home, Cassara.” He retreated faster than he’d arrived, disappearing down the hallway with a speed that would’ve made any death dealer proud.

The air settled again, though I could still feel the residual hum of Con’s temper vibrating through the space.

I turned to him, arching a brow. “You enjoy terrifying the younger ones?”

He looked at me, unrepentant. “Only when they forget their place.”

I sighed, shaking my head. “You’re impossible.”

His gaze softened then, some of that wild edge fading. “He shouldn’t talk to you like that.”

“He wasn’t talking to me ‘like’ anything,” I said, though the warmth in my chest betrayed the irritation in my tone. “He’s harmless. He just wants to learn how to fight. He looks at me like an older sister.”

Con didn’t answer. But the muscle in his jaw flexed once before he turned toward the corridor leading to the east wing.

A grin spread across my face as I watched him go, even as something inside me twisted. Selima’s words echoed again in the back of my mind.

I know how trying this time can be.

And as I stood there, the letter still warm in my pocket, I realized she was right. My relationship with Con was changing, bleeding into everything around us. Every glance, every word, every unspoken reaction.