Page 234 of Blood Curse

45

BRYONY

I asked Stellan to turn me three weeks after the Crown broke.

I was sitting at the desk in our rooms at Harrowmere, fully dressed, with my laptop open and a mug of cold tea beside it. I had spent the afternoon answering calls, moving deadlines and proving to several people that disappearing for nearly a month hadn’t destroyed my ability to read an email.

Stellan was by the window with a glass of blood in one hand. He had been reading the same page of a book for ten minutes, which meant he had been listening to me work.

I closed the laptop.

The click brought his attention to me.

“I’ve lived with the gate open,” I said. “I’ve worked from my flat. I’ve slept there alone. I’ve come back here because I wanted to, and I left twice because I wanted to.”

He set his glass down.

The room changed with that one quiet movement. He didn’t approach me or fill the silence. He waited while I stood and crossed to him.

“My rent is paid for six months,” I continued. “The flat stays mine. My work stays mine. Lenora has copies of every account and document she’d need if I’m unconscious for several days. Elias has enough stored blood for my first hunger, and Mara has agreed to keep everyone out of these rooms unless she calls for help.”

I had spent the last three weeks testing that future in the least romantic ways possible. I had taken morning calls from Leeds, travelled back after dark and discovered exactly how unreliable the train became when it rained. I had eaten lunch at my desk, argued about a missed deadline and bought practical blackout curtains without caring what they looked like. My calendar already carried later meetings for the next month. The people I worked with knew I had a medical reason for avoiding daylight. They didn’t need the supernatural version to respect the hours.

Stellan had stayed at my flat, returned to Harrowmere without me and let whole days pass without asking whether I’d decided. He had made space for an answer without shaping it.

Stellan’s face gave away very little. The connection between us had opened through blood freely shared, long before the Crown broke. It gave away everything. Concern moved through it, followed by something fierce and carefully contained.

I took his hand. “I know this isn’t a cure now. It isn’t an escape from the Crown, and it isn’t a decision I’m making because I nearly died.”

He held on.

“I want the life I already chose,” I said. “I want more of it. I want Leeds, this impossible house, the court, the terrible lock you’re replacing whether my landlord likes it or not, and you. I want the years with you.”

His thumb pressed once against my palm.

“Ask me plainly,” he said.

This wasn’t another test. He needed the words once, and I wanted to give them to him.

“Stellan, will you turn me?”

He drew me in until my forehead rested against his chest. His heart gave its slow, strong beat under my ear.

“Yes.”

The answer entered me without ceremony. Relief loosened something I didn’t know I was holding.

His hand slid into my hair. He tipped my face towards his, but his mouth stopped a breath from mine.

“It will hurt,” he said. “The bite less than the dying. Your body will fight the blood while your heart slows. You may hear me after it stops, but you won’t be able to answer.”

“And when I wake?”

“You’ll be hungry enough to mistake it for pain. Light will feel sharp at first. Direct sun will burn you, and daylight will pull at your strength until your body adjusts. Your senses may give you too much at once.”

His restraint tightened through our connection. He wasn’t trying to frighten me away. He was refusing to make forever sound gentle.

“Anything else?” I asked.