Page 37 of Curiosity Killed The Vampire

“They’ll move before nightfall,” I said, forcing my thoughts back to the mission. “They’ll take it somewhere secure. A bunker, a transport, a lab. Somewhere we can’t walk into without getting torn apart.”

Con studied the entrance again, then let his gaze track deeper into the cave, where the shadows thickened. “Then we don’t move until dusk.”

“What?”

“The sun’s rising. You’re already spent, and I’m not at full strength either.” His injured shoulder twitched, betraying the lie of his composure. “If they’ve set scouts along the ridges, we’ll be dead before we get within range. We rest until sunset.”

I hated that he was right. My muscles trembled with fatigue, my magic still felt scorched raw, and every breath carried the dull ache of overuse. I slid down the wall until the cold stone pressed against my spine.

“Damn,” I muttered, closing my eyes for a moment.

Con sank down beside me, close enough that our shoulders brushed—his good one, deliberately. “We’ll track them when it’s dark. The snow will still hold their trail for a few hours.”

I nodded reluctantly, watching the light creep a fraction further onto the cave floor. Dawn painted the stone in washed-out grays, turning the dust in the air to bands of gold.

“They won’t destroy it,” I said. “They don’t understand it yet. That buys us time.”

Con’s mouth tightened. “Then time is what we use.”

The silence that settled between us was different this time. Not the brittle quiet of shock, but something heavier, denser—like the moment between drawing a bowstring and letting it fly.

I tilted my head back, tracking the thin beams of light filtering through the cracks above. “We wait till dusk,” I said softly.

His answer came low and certain, sinking into the stone around us. “We wait. Then we hunt.”

And as the morning deepened and the light crawled further into the cave, the weight of what we’d lost pressed down like the mountain itself.

But beneath the exhaustion, beneath the anger, beneath the ache in my chest and the throb in Con’s ruined shoulder, I could still feel it.

The faint thread of the artifact.

Somewhere out there—alive.

Still calling.

Waiting for us to come and take it back.

CHAPTER 11

The light outside dimmed slowly—long, reluctant streaks of gold fading to pale gray as the sun sank behind the mountain peaks. The cave had grown colder with every passing hour, the stone walls breathing out their damp chill. Time seemed to slow, marked only by the steady rhythm of dripping water somewhere in the dark and the low sigh of wind pushing through the cracks near the entrance.

We’d spoken little after deciding to wait. Words felt too heavy for the silence that filled the space between us. Con had settled near the wall facing the cave mouth, where the fading light from outside painted his profile in shadow and silver. His curved blade rested loosely in one hand, the weapon balanced effortlessly across his knee.

I sat beside him, the exhaustion from earlier settling deep into my bones. My body ached with the ghost of battle, bruises blooming beneath my skin, my limbs sluggish from the magic I’d burned through. I pulled my knees up and leaned back against him, too tired to care about propriety or distance.

Con didn’t move at first, but I felt the subtle shift of his chest as he adjusted slightly to brace my weight. His warmth seeped through the layers of my jacket, grounding me in a way the cold stone floor never could. His breath brushed the top of my hair, that quiet, steady inhale-exhale that made it hard to remember the world outside was still dangerous. Outside, the last of the daylight died, leaving only the wash of dusk filtering through the narrow cave opening.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “I hate waiting,” I murmured, my voice low.

Con’s chest rumbled with quiet amusement beneath me. “You’ve always hated it. Patience was never your strong suit.”

“Neither was humility,” I said softly.

“I noticed.”

I smiled, eyes half-closing as I tilted my head against his shoulder. For a while, neither of us spoke. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable—it was steady, companionable, the kind that came after surviving too much together. The kind that made it far too easy to forget where the boundary between necessity and desire blurred.

Then I felt it. The slow, deliberate touch of his thumb, tracing a lazy circle just below my jawline. It was a small gesture, but it sent a shiver through me all the same. His touch was warm, and achingly gentle, a stark contrast to the lethal precision I’d seen from him hours earlier. Instinctively, I leaned into it, betraying more than I meant to.