Page 162 of Bitten & Burned

“Rowena…” Anton’s hand was insistent on my shoulder. “Darling… look.”

He was pointing to the pile of ashes in the fireplace. The pile of ashes that was now squirming around. I fell to my knees again, clasping my hands so I wouldn’t reach in and grab him yet.

His little head poked out of the ash, golden eyes blinking blearily up at me. He made a little sound. Like a screech. A mew.

He stood, chubby and gangly, not great on his feet yet.Glowing with embers that were dying down as he toddled towards me.Not as big as he had been, just a tiny kitten now.

By the time he got to me, I could scoop him up, singeing my finger a bit, but I didn’t care.

He was okay.

Fig was okay.

I held him close. He meowed, rubbing his head against my chin.

“Thank Camarae,” Quil muttered, falling to his knees and cradling me in his arms. “He’s okay.”

“He’s okay,” I murmured, hissing in pain as his fur singed my hurt fingers.

“I’ll take him…just until he cools down,” Quil said, holding out his arms. He cradled Fig in the crook of his elbow.

Anton reached for me, scooped me into his arms again, and carried me over to the armchair, the only one left standing.

I curled into him, sniffling. He pulled my hand up and began kissing my sore fingers. “Darling… are you… truly alright?”

I nodded. “Fig’s… he’s okay…” I straightened so I could look, could see him in Quil’s arms, playing with a strip of leather that Quil was dangling over him.

“Yes, darling, Fig is fine. But are you okay?” He kissed my fingers again, and I winced.

“I’m fine, but my fingers…I’m really wishing I hadn’t clawed up the floor now…”

He swallowed thickly, his throat bobbing, as he gently kissed my palm. “You shouldn’t have had to… I should have gotten there sooner.”

“You got there as fast as you could.”

“Not fast enough,” he murmured. His voice dropped lower. Rougher. “I wanted to break their bones so slowly they begged me to end it. I wanted to make them understand that they don’t touch what ismine…”

His fingers flexed around my hand. Not tight. Just… desperate. Still shaking with all the things he hadn’t said.

“I wanted to peel their skin away inch by inch and listen to them scream until their throats gave out.” His lips twitched in the remnants of a smile. His eyes were dark, nearly black, and his fangs were bloody. He was panting like a wild animal.

I should have been afraid of him.

Of what he was capable of.

But I wasn’t.

Instead of fear, I felt safe. Safer than I’d ever felt.

Because it was me he’d come for. It was me that he’d protected.

He blinked suddenly, closing his mouth and frowning, looking at me with new eyes. “I’m sorry…mon coeur… I’m so sorry, you need me here, not as a monster…I didn’t mean to scare you, Rowena.”

“I wasn’t scared,” I whispered. “I was before, but then, you got there.”

Anton looked at me then, really looked—eyes wide, like he didn’t believe me.

“I should terrify you. I’m… nothing but a feral animal when I’m like that. Like this.”