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Vivian is relentless in her chase.

The stacks on this lowest level are a maze, and in the dark without a witchlight, I can’t comprehend how she’s keeping up. Even with my superior vision, I’m dragging us left and right until her voice and steps fade.

Until we lose her, if only momentarily.

“You need to heal,” I whisper to Quill, drawing to a stop.

He pulls me forward. “There’s no time.”

“If we’re going to have even a chance of making it out of this fucking library, Quill, you’ll have to heal.”

His hand is trembling in my grip as I dig my heels in and force us to stop. Pain is evident across his face as he winces, as he uses the wall as support to keep himself upright. His normally sweet-smelling blood is scented with metal. Of silver. And I have the urge to tear this fucking library down brick by brick and crush my sister beneath the rubble for hurting my mate.

“Heal, Quill.” It is not a suggestion—it’s a command. I press closer to him, angling my neck for easier access. “Heal.”

His shirt is sticky against my palms, and my rage burns anew. I will rip her limb from limb for drawing his blood. I will⁠—

Oh.

Quill’s teeth sink into me without warning, his tongue lapping against my skin. Any anger is stripped from me with every languid draw of blood. He moans against the curve of my neck, and something very hard and very large brushes against my abdomen through his leathers.

My legs shake in relief. If he’s well enough to boast an erection, he’s well enough to get us the hell out of here.

His fangs retract with a quick snap as he tears his mouth away from me. The wound on my neck tingles as it stitches itself back together. He touches his forehead to mine. “Let’s get out of here, love.”

There is no other way out from down here. No mysterious breezes or cracks of light. Just endless darkness and halls stretching on and on and on.

Twice we crossed paths with Vivvy. Each time we stood so deathly still as she crept by that I could smell the sweat on her skin mingling with the scented soap I gifted her for her birthday last year.

“What are we going to do?” I murmur into the pitch dark. “The only way out is up. She’s had to realize that by now.”

Quill’s mouth pinches as if he’s been dreading this conversation. His hand tightens around mine. “I have an idea, but you aren’t going to like it.”

He’s absolutely correct. I don’t like his idea. I hate it. It fills me with dread. There are so many ways it could go wrong, but I lean into him, put my trust into him the way I’ve never been able to put my trust in someone before.

The hunt is on.

Quill conjures a dozen versions of himself and lets them loose in the halls.

Footsteps quiet as they disperse. We listen intently. Waiting for…

A feminine growl, the sound of silver colliding with stone. A swear.

We’re on the move behind the shuffle of the illusions. So alike they bear his same cadence with every step. One by one, Vivvy slices through them. Sparks glinting off stone until she swings and her blade sizzles, caught between Quill’s palms.

“I knew I’d find you eventually,” she snarls.

I wish I couldn’t see her face, wish I couldn’t watch as my mate grabs her by the throat and stares into her eyes with a particular sort of cruelty. He could snap her neck so easily, end this torturous chase of hers, and set us free from herI know he won’t take her life before I’m ready to let her go.

No. If Vivian’s death stains anyone’s hands, it’ll be my own.

“Drop your weapons,” Quill purrs, wrapping the command in silk.

Metal clatters to the stone floor. Her sword first, then her stake. It rolls into the wall with a gentle ting. Then several blades, each a shining, sharp silver. Her crossbow is next as she lifts it over her shoulder. She makes to toss it to the side, but Quill tuts. “I’ll take that, please.” He plucks it from her calloused hands. “Bolts too.”

Unblinking, she unclasps the quiver and deposits it into his hand.

“Good.” He passes the weapons over to me without breaking eye contact with her. “Now,” he begins, brushing her hair over her shoulder to reveal her neck. I cannot stop the growl building in my chest at the sight of him touching her, touching anyone who isn’t me. “Whose bites are these? You haven’t become a bloodwhore, have you?”