Page 172 of Bitten & Burned

“What?” Quil asked.

“An archivist. I’m not a professor. To be quite honest, the word puts a foul taste in my mouth, so if you don’t mind—archivist.”

Quil appraised Vael as if he were something he was hunting. “I’d rather your wist than your arrogance, Vael.”

Vael only gave a thin smile, but I caught the flicker in his eyes. The word professor hadn’t just stung—it had cut deeper, and I knew why.

It took another fifteen minutes, but we soon pulledup in front of my apartment building. I took Fig. Vael, and Quil competed for who could take more bags. Quil won, his forearms bulging as he hoisted both of my bags and his own. I rolled my eyes, and Vael smiled smugly as he took only his valise. “I might have orchestrated that… too manipulative?”

I smirked. “Not manipulative—lazy.”

Quil groaned under his breath and muttered something that sounded like a curse.

We made our way to the lift in the middle of the lobby. Quil was on edge, looking at all the people.

“Why are they staring?” he asked.

“Because I’ve got twice the amount of vampires with me that I usually do,” I said simply, waving at one of my neighbors. “Not a big deal, I’ll explain it to them later. Just get on the lift.”

“Is it safe?” Quil asked, wrinkling his nose and peering into the cage.

“You’re a vampire, not an invalid. If it drops, you’ll live,” Vael replied, shouldering past him.

“What about Rowena?” Quil asked.

“Look, my leg is killing me. Better I’m taken out by a rogue lift than have to walk up twelve flights of stairs.”

“I’ll carry you,” Quil offered.

“We’ll be fine on the lift,” I insisted.

He hesitated briefly before climbing on with us. He jolted as the lift began moving, leaning over to mutter to both Vael and me: “Not a breath of this to the others, alright?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of ruining your reputation,” Vael said.

I smiled and reached for his hand, squeezing it as it carried us higher.

It deposited us on the thirteenth floor, but it was still a walk down several hallways before we reached my apartment.

Once outside, Quil stared at the door. “That’s it?”

“What do you mean, that’s it?” Vael asked. “There are rooms beyond the door.”

“I just thought… it’d be the whole floor, not part ofit.”

“That’s why it’s an apartment,” I explained. “It’s a part of the building.”

“Still… you share walls with neighbors? With people you don’t even know?”

“Yeah, that’s home,” I said. “Now tell me, Quil…How angry would you be if I told you I forgot my key?”

He whipped his head towards me. Vael chuckled, and I laughed, “Calm down, it was a joke.” I pulled the key out of my pocket. Quil scowled, but I caught the flicker of relief before he masked it.

I stepped inside and let Fig out of his carrier, while Quil set all the bags down on the floor beside the door. Vael stepped inside, setting his valise on the floor beside them. He inhaled deeply. “Shall I make tea? It seems the only proper way to mark a homecoming.”

I was home.

I glanced around my apartment. Just a few short weeks before, I’d left it, supposedly just for the weekend. And now? It felt as if everything had changed. I wasn’t the same person I had been the last time I’d used my coffee press. I wasn’t the same one who’d written the grocery list taped to the ice box. Not the same one who’d last locked the door.