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All my love,
Darya.
Darya,
Sven is very intrigued by this news of Belinda. He’s seen ghosts since he was a child and like your mother, Rita and Roman he’s never heard of one having the power to show themselves to whoever they choose. She’s very lucky to have gained such power and I’m glad you get to keep your friend.
I appreciate you trying to assuage my jealousy in regards to Peter but I’m afraid that when it comes to you I will always be somewhat…territorial.
There are thirty days left until my release. I’m counting down the hours.
Can you feel me through the mark? Because I can feel you all the time.
All my love,
Vas.
Dear Vas,
29 days now. I’m not only counting the hours, I’m counting the minutes.
Your always,
Darya.
24.
I sat on a wall by the pier next to Carra, anxiously waiting for the Vas and Sven’s boat to come in.
Carra’s long, dark brown hair hung in a braid over her shoulder. She wore a deep blue dress, brown leather sandals and a white cardigan. Unlike when we’d first met, she was recovered greatly from her previous state of ill health. Red Armand’s death freed some of the trauma that had been locked up inside her. Her skin glowed, her eyes bright. I couldn’t wait for Sven to see her, and even though she didn’t speak much about her feelings, I knew she was eager to see him, too.
Then there was me and Vas. We’d been exchanging letters. Lots of letters. Since the prison didn’t allow him correspondence with the outside world we’d been magicking pieces of paper back and forth. It was one of the benefits of my newfound magic. My mother couldn’t have been prouder when she discovered I’d inherited some of the same powers she possessed.
It was hard to be away from him, but somehow I managed. I’d been feeding from a new blood donor, a witch whose sister was a donor to Grace. I was grateful for the sustenance but I missed feeding from Vas. Missed the desire and pleasure that pulsed through me when my fangs sank into him, the taste of his blood hitting my tongue.
Thankfully, his year in prison had been mostly uneventful. Serg, who had come with us during our big escape, still hadn’t been located. I liked to imagine he was out there somewhere, enjoying his freedom, living a good life on the straight and narrow, perhaps running his own tattoo parlour and not trying to rob any more human banks.
“There it is!” Carra exclaimed when the boat appeared on the horizon. My heart lifted. It had been an entire year since I laid eyes on Vas and after all this time I was more than ready. Instead of weakening it, the distance had strengthened our connection. Through the letters our relationship deepened and intensified slowly, and maybe that was for the better. It meant we couldn’t rush things even if we wanted to.
It took about another twenty minutes before the boat finally docked. Carra and I waited, anxiously holding each other’s hands as a few prison workers exited the boat. A little bit of self-consciousness trickled over me at the way I was dressed. I wore a pale yellow, flower printed dress that Carra insisted I buy during a shopping trip to the city. I bought it mostly to make her happy but it was also the middle of summer so I needed some lighter clothing for the hot weather. My legs were bare, my hair down in loose waves.
I took a few deep breaths, anxious to spot Vas. Then he appeared and everything inside me melted.
“Carra!” Sven shouted, a wide smile spreading across his face when he spotted her. He practically leapt off the boat and ran for her. He scooped her into his arms, swung her around and hugged her tight. Then he crashed his lips onto hers, kissing her like a man possessed. They broke apart and she looked like she might either faint or die of embarrassment.
“Sven,” she whispered, her cheeks heating.
“What? I’m not wasting any more time,” he said then laid another one on her. I turned to Vas, heart hammering in my ears, the mark stirring to life at his proximity. He hadn’t been lying when he said I’d feel a tingle every time he thought of me. I felt one every day since he’d been gone. No, several times a day.
My attention went to his wrists, relief flooding me when I saw they were bare of any thorn tattoos. They would’ve been removed earlier today before he was released. I knew it had to have been difficult getting inked again, losing the power he’d only just gotten back. Over the past year his magic had been muted but strong enough for us to send our letters.
“Fuck,” he said, dragging a hand down his face, his eyes devouring me. His hair had grown out, the dark blond strands curling around his horns. Awareness took over and suddenly my dress was too short, my neckline too revealing. Or maybe it was just the way he was looking at me, like he wanted to do many, many naughty things.
