Page 2 of Curiosity Killed The Vampire

I nodded, throat tight. “I almost bit you. I wanted to. Maybe it’s the only way to⁠—”

“No.” His voice cut clean through the hum of the plane.

I froze. “How can you be so sure?”

He looked straight ahead, but the edges of his tone softened, the steel wrapped in something gentler. “I’ve lived a thousand years, Cass. I’ve seen what my bond can do. It chains. Twists. Takes choice away. I won’t lose what makes you you just to ease temptation.”

Something caught in my chest and lodged there. “Then why risk being near me at all?”

This time he turned fully toward me, bracing one arm along the back of his seat. The intensity in his gaze made my heart stutter. “Because I love you. Bond or no bond, I will always love you. You don’t need my blood for that.”

The words hit like a weapon and a balm all at once. Warmth and pain in the same breath. For a moment I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. I just stared at him—the warrior, the monster, the man who had watched empires rise and rot—wondering how something that ancient could still sound so heartbreakingly human.

Outside, the horizon began to pale. Dawn seeped into the sky, bleeding gold and violet through the ragged edges of clouds. The engines shifted pitch as we began our descent.

“Shadow Bone,” Con said quietly, watching the outline of the estate’s territory below, a dark smear against the waking world.

I didn’t answer. My pulse was still racing, my body humming from his words as if they were their own kind of magic.

The wheels kissed the tarmac with a jolt. As the plane slowed, I caught our reflection in the window—two silhouettes side by side, bound by something neither of us had dared to name.

And I realized, with a clarity that scared me more than any battle ever had—if what he’d said were true, if he truly loved me without the bond—then I was already his.

We exited the plane and got into the limo immediately, the chill air packing itself into the space between breaths before the door thudded shut behind us.

The ride back to Shadow Bone passed in a silence that wasn’t silence at all. The muted growl of the engine, the subtle vibration of the tires over old stone, the low thrum of magic still prickling beneath my skin—the echo of Con’s words repeating in my mind until they were all I could hear. I love you. Bond or no bond, I will always love you.

He’d said it as though it were the simplest thing in the world. As though declaring something like that didn’t rearrange every piece of me.

By the time the limo turned onto the private drive leading to the Shadow Bone estate, I still hadn’t managed to look him in the eye again. I wanted to. Gods, I wanted to. But every time I shifted, that unshakable calm on his face made it worse—like he’d just reminded me of the weather, not confessed something that could change everything.

The night air was cool as we descended from the car. The mansion rose before us like a cathedral of shadow and steel, its many windows gleaming with lantern light. Torches burned along the long drive, their flames throwing fractured patterns across the cobblestone path, turning the ground into a mosaic of light and darkness.

I followed Con toward the front doors, my boots tapping against stone. I tried to ground myself in the familiar—the scent of old blood and cedar oil, the whisper of the wind along the outer wall, the invisible press of wards brushing over my skin like cobwebs. Home, I told myself. You’re home.

None of it quieted the storm inside me.

Con reached for the door first, pushing it open with that effortless strength that came as naturally to him as breathing. The grand entry swallowed us whole, high ceilings and polished marble reflecting the dim glow of chandeliers. The heavy doors closed behind us with a deep, rounded echo.

I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Is that it?” I blurted, my voice snapping against stone and shadow. “You just drop the love bomb and move on?”

He didn’t even slow his stride. “It was not a bomb,” he said, tone maddeningly even. “Just the truth. And you have known for years, Cassara. You simply didn’t want to hear it.”

My pulse kicked. “You’re so sure of that?”

He finally looked at me then—those molten eyes soft but unyielding. “I am.”

And damn him, he was right.

I’d seen it in every glance, every fight where he’d put himself between me and death, every argument where he’d rather take the wound than hurt me. I’d known. I’d just refused to name it.

Before I could answer, a figure appeared at the far end of the hall. Edward, immaculate as ever in his dark suit, glided toward us, expression composed but with a tightness around his eyes.

“Good. You’re back,” he said, tone brisk but edged with relief. “The conclave representatives are waiting for you in the ballroom.”

My stomach tightened. “Already?”