Page 47 of Curiosity Killed The Vampire

Con walked ahead, his movements measured but urgent, his gaze sweeping the dark slopes for threats. The snow muffled everything except the crunch of our footsteps and the whisper of wind through the pines. My fingers were numb, my breath a ghost in the cold.

“We’re close,” Con said, voice low. “Another five minutes.”

I nodded, though I wasn’t sure I had five left in me. The adrenaline that had carried me through the warehouse fight had burned away, leaving only the hollow ache of fatigue. The artifact’s weight in my satchel felt heavier now—almost smug in the way it dragged against my hip.

When the black SUV came into view through the trees, relief hit so hard my knees nearly buckled. It sat half-buried in snow where we’d left it hours earlier, dusted white. Con brushed snow from the windshield with his arm and opened the driver’s door.

He turned toward me, eyes catching the moonlight. “Get in.”

I didn’t argue. My hands shook as I pulled the door open and climbed inside. The leather seat was freezing, but solid and grounding. Con started the engine; the deep rumble filled the quiet night. The heater hummed to life, warm air spilling through the vents, almost painful at first against my chilled skin.

For a moment we just sat there, breathing, thawing. Then Con shifted the SUV into gear, and the tires bit into the snow as we began the long descent.

Trees and cliffs blurred past, the distant ribbon of the river glinting under the moon. I leaned my head back, watching snow swirl in the headlights. My body begged for sleep, but my mind was restless—still echoing with fire, steel, blood… and the way Con had kissed me.

He drove with both hands on the wheel, shoulders rigid, jaw set. Even inside the SUV, he was alert—ever the soldier. Dashlight cast silver across his face, outlining every angle.

“You should rest,” he said eventually.

“I can’t,” I murmured. “Not yet.”

His brow lifted slightly. “Because of the artifact?”

“Because of everything.”

Silence settled between us, the hum of the engine the only sound. The wind buffeted the SUV as the forest thinned and the highway opened before us.

By the time the lights of Shadow Thorn appeared—warm pinpricks scattered along the ridgeline—my vision was blurring at the edges.

Con noticed instantly.

“Cass,” he said quietly, glancing my way.

“I’m fine,” I lied, forcing my eyes open.

“You’re as white as frost. Stay with me a little longer.”

The SUV rolled to a stop in the courtyard. The mansion loomed above us, soft light glowing behind frost-rimmed windows. Con was out before I could unbuckle, his door thudding shut in the cold. He came around, opened mine, and offered his hand.

“I can walk,” I said—even as my legs trembled.

“I know,” he replied softly, holding his hand out anyway.

My fingers shook as I took it. His grip was steady, warm, careful. He guided me up the steps, one hand at my elbow, the other brushing the small of my back when I faltered.

The mansion doors opened before we reached them. Alain must have heard the engine. Warm light spilled out across the snow, making my head swim. Con tightened his hold as we crossed the threshold.

The foyer smelled of woodsmoke and cedar oil. It should have been comforting, but the sudden heat made the room tilt.

“You are back, maybe we could—” Alain started, but his voice blurred, distant.

I nodded vaguely. “Maybe later,” I said, the word slurring.

Con’s arm slid fully around my waist. “She needs rest. Where’s Emmett?”

“In his office,” Alain replied. “Shall I⁠—”

“Not now.”