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To be fair, as morbid as it sounds, that’s exactly what they are—secrets passed down from generation to generation, with absolutely no clue as to where they originated.
The way Blood Rituals and Blood Rites work comes down to science, if you stretch the definition of the word. It’s a biological response triggered by genetic markers. Anomalies in the DNA that activate or can be manipulated under an extreme or specific set of circumstances.
Magic isn’t some sparkly divine gift given to us by the gods. It’s nothing more than code.
And just like technology, to learn how to use that code, you need to have the key.
There are only about a dozen vampires who can create wards. So that means the vampire responsible for these latest wards is either someone we’re already aware of who’s seriously overhauled and upgraded their abilities, or it’s someone new with previously undiscovered abilities.
If it’s the latter, it means the human asshole might already be three steps ahead, and I can’t stand it when prey have the advantage.
Caelan still isn’t talking to me after our disagreement last night. Even now, he sits across the table with his arms crossed, jaw clenched, and eyes trained on the wall like he’s trying to burn a hole into the stone with his stare.
I can practically feel the hostility radiating off of him. Centuries together, and this asshole is going to give me the Fatesdamned silent treatment because I dared to question the eight-thousand unexplained issues surrounding some random Omega.
Now, on top of it, he’s admitting that his Alpha wants to protect her, and I’m not allowed to ask for an explanation? The whole situation is so unlike him it’s genuinely alarming, and yet somehow he can’t even see how strange he’s acting.
“Explain to me what happened to you during recon last night.” All of Gavran’s attention is fixed on Caelan. “I was under the impression it was uneventful. Checking the entry and exit points, no real high-quality tech or alarms outside of the structure you found. Now you’re telling us that your Alpha instincts went out of control when you saw the human Omega.”
I’ve been on the receiving end of the hard gaze Gav is aiming at Caelan, and part of me regrets calling my brother out in the middle of a meeting. The other part is seething after discovering that he downplayed his reaction to the female last night.
Why? He’s never done anything like that before. Not even close.
I knew something was off the moment he muted me during recon. That was the first red flag. He either didn’t know or didn’t care that my systems literally told me when I was muted, but I shrugged it off. I let him keep his secrets and didn’t pry.
I assumed already that he was looking into whatever the hell was going on with the girl while I was muted. Caelan’s usually great about keeping up a mental block, allowing barely a trickle through during missions, but I kept getting flashes of emotion the entire time he was there.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was causing those cracks in his armor. The girl rattled the hell out of him.
The fact that she’s a full-on digital ghost, something that’s fucking unheard of in this day and age, irritates me more than I care to admit. I spent twelve hours combing through every database, network, and corner of the black web I could, searching for a single godsdamned trace of her existence.
I didn’t find anything. Nothing.
Still, I decided not to push him on the subject. I thought, ‘Hell, who am I to call him out if he finds some random human woman attractive? It isn’t like he bit her,’ so I mentally flagged it as ‘Hot Girl makes Caelan Twitchy,’ and told myself to move on, outside of making a mental note to take a night off and hit up a bar or something. Let him pick up a beta and work off whatever pent-up testosterone is sending him sideways.
I’d do it, too. Even though I hate bars with the power of a thousand suns. They’re always so fucking dirty.
Seriously, would it kill the bartenders to use Clorox wipes between patrons?
It doesn’t matter. I’m scrapping that idea anyway, because needing to get laid is quite obviously not the root of his problem. Shit is getting a little too chaotic, and I fucking hate chaos.
The more out-of-character Caelan got last night, the more I pushed back at him. Called him out.
And I was right, if the way he shut down is any indication.
All day, I haven’t been able to shake the feeling that there’s something more happening.
Did he block more emotion from me through the Bond than I initially thought?
Now we’re back in the War Room, and Caelan just dropped a bomb proving I’m right to be concerned about his shifty attitude. Gav’s right—he needs to tell us what the hell happened with that Omega.
To be fair, though—
“Her name is Idril.”
The words fly out without my permission. Before anything else stupid escapes, I snap my mouth shut so fast my teeth nearly take off a piece of my tongue.
Fates, why did I say that? It’s like something took over my vocal cords. Why do I care what the Omega’s name is?
