Page 27 of Bitten & Burned

Eleven

TOOK TOO MUCH

Kravenspire, Sol, Verdune

QUIL

She gave me a gift.

A gift

Rowena…

I can still hear her heart beating.

Slow.

Too slow.

It’s beating too slowly.

Fuck.

I did this.

Me.

Monster.

Me.

And they all felt it.

Every drop I stole, every tremor in her body.

They felt me ruin her.

Gods help me, she begged for it.

Begged and I took.

Took too much.

She gave me a gift and I took too much..

Fuck.

She begged. Said my name like it meant something.

And I—

No. Fuck. No.

Stop thinking about her.

About her skin, about how she shook in my arms, how she moaned the second my teeth sank in…

No.

It’s nothing but dust now. It’s gone.

The smell didn’t matter. It’s almost like it disappeared the second I tasted her.

The ache in my bones from the blood curse she carried.

Her lifeblood gushing into my mouth, sweet and thick.

She was something beautiful, and I used her up.

I ruined her. Ruined everything.

Drip.

It hit the floor with a resounding echo—one I will hear forever in my darkest nightmares.

Drip.

Cassian’s carrying her, a trail of red drops on the floor behind her.

Drip.

He’s gone before I can stop him. Apologize. Fucking grovel at her feet because…

Because…

“He could have killed her!”

I didn’t hear it, but I felt it. The movement of air whipping past my head and the white-hot pain as something connected with my face.

My mouth filled with my own blood, and I spat it out on the floor.

I braced for another blow. Another one was coming, I just knew it.

But it never did. Instead, something strong and unyielding yanked me backward on the floor.

I blinked, chest heaving as I took in the rest of my surroundings. It was Dmitri’s arm across my chest. Vael and Anton yelling. Voices that cracked loudly through the room, like shattering glass.

Dmitri never yelled.

But his voice was louder than both of them.

“Shut up, both of you.”

The silence was jarring after so much sound. A moment ago, there had been nothing but noise, and now there was nothing at all.

I swallowed, the taste of her blood and mine still in my mouth.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

Vael stomped over, bent in my face. “You’re sorry?” he hissed. I could feel his breath on my face. “Damn right you’re sorry. A sorry excuse for a man. Nothing but a mongrel monster who touched what he shouldn’t have.”

There was a blur of motion as Anton seized Vael by the throat and slammed him against the far wall with an impact that knocked books from the shelves.

Vael snarled, baring his teeth, fury radiating off him. His hands clawed at Anton’s arm, but it was like trying to move a boulder. He wasn’t choking, but he wasn’t going anywhere, either.

“What, you’re defending him now?” Vael spat. “That’s just like you, isn’t it, Anton? Maybe you want a turn next? You like them weak and helpless, don’t you? Get them drunk on your blood and you—”

“That’s enough,” Anton growled through clenched teeth.

Anton’s grip tightened.

And then he lifted.

Vael’s boots left the ground; the words stopped the second his heels couldn’t touch the floor.

“That mouth of yours always seems to get you in trouble, doesn’t it, Vael?” Anton’s voice was suddenly smooth as silk. But dangerous, like a dagger hidden just beneath the folds, ready to be brandished at a moment’s notice.

“It gets the job done,” Vael rasped, still glaring, full of fire and venom.

“You forget yourself,” Anton said through gritted teeth.

Dmitri and I froze.

I’d never noticed how utterly… terrifying Anton could be. I was used to him folding pastry dough, not felling grown men. Reorganizing the wine cellar, not enforcing order with a hand around someone’s throat. He didn’t let this side out much.

But he was a vampire like the rest of us. We all had a little of that in us, only his was beautiful and lethal. And gods help anyone who mistook his apparent softness for weakness.

“I forget nothing,” Vael hissed.

Anton’s eyes flashed.

“Vael Vexley, I am older than you. Wiser than you. Stronger than you. Cassian’s not here, so in his absence? I. Am. The. Law. I am the judge, jury, and executioner. You will obey… or face the consequences.”

Vael was silent. Obedient, even if his rage was simmering below the surface.

I almost wished he’d snarl again. Anything was better than this silence, heavy as a tombstone and twice as blunt.

Anton dropped him unceremoniously.

He landed hard.

Anton turned, voice steady again. Unshakable.

“That man is no more a monster than you or I. He’s not bragging.

He’s not self-congratulatory. He is a man who knows the gravity of what he’s done…

the consequences…and he would crawl through the hells themselves if it meant he could undo it.

It could have been any of us. And you’ll take care to remember that before you open your mouth again, Vexley. ”

It took me a moment to realize he was talking about me.

I was the man, not the monster, according to Anton.

I wasn’t sure I believed him. I didn’t deserve his defense.

Vael pulled himself to his feet without a word. Dust in his hair. Red blooming on his throat. Pride in tatters.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t growl. Just stood there like he wanted to leave, but didn’t dare after the show Anton had just put on.

Anton straightened his collar. Smoothed his sleeves. Calm and crisp, like a man who’d just returned from a polite little murder.

Then he looked at Vael. Flat. Cold. Already bored with him.

“For gods’ sake… go.”

Vael went.

He didn’t slam the door this time.

ROWENA

Warm.

Not fire. Not sunlight.

Blood.

It flowed over my tongue like silk—steady and rich. Grounding me through the flow.

“Shh, little dove,” a warm voice whispered. “Drink. It’ll help. My blood always helps.”

Cassian.

His wrist was pressed to my mouth, his other hand cradling my head. I could not remember how I got here. But I couldn’t worry about that when the taste of him was so… familiar. He tasted like safety.

My throat worked for me, swallowing on instinct. My fingers twitched. My head pounded.

“Easy,” he murmured, voice velvet-smooth and full of quiet command. “That’s it. Just breathe.”

I wasn’t aware of when the tears came, or why.

Cassian shifted slightly, bringing his head down closer to mine.

“There you are, Rowena. Keep drinking. I’ve got you.”

I gripped his wrist and drank deeply, letting the warm taste flow over my tongue. The aches in my body began to recede. The pounding in my skull was already fading.

I could feel my toes. My fingers. My legs. My arms. I was coming back. The bond’s hum steadied, faint but present, as though it too was returning with me.

A groan escaped me as I swallowed again, but a little blood sputtered past my lips.

“Shhh… easy. Go slow,” Cassian murmured. “Not so much at once. Don’t worry, I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

And gods, I needed him.

I relaxed into his arms, letting the feeling return to my limbs and everything else. Slowly, the frantic edge of need faded. I was just drinking, not clawing my way back.

I released him.

“Did you get enough?” he asked.

“Felt like I got too much,” I said, my voice thick and unfamiliar in my own throat.

“How do you feel?”

I took a breath, closed my eyes, and searched for pain. Hard to separate it—my thigh always hurt. But these were the usual aches. The familiar ones.

“As good as I ever feel.”

Cassian nodded, still cradling me. A soft ‘meow’ and the sound of claws on my bedding made me look up.

Fig crawled up onto the bed, meowing as he climbed up into Cassian’s lap with me.

“Aww, hello there, Figgy…” I crooned as he climbed over my belly, meowing and nuzzling me like he was an old, worried grandmother.

“He’s been pacing the halls ever since I brought you here,” Cassian said softly.

“He was worried,” I murmured. “I’m so sorry to worry you, baby.”

Fig meowed in response, curling up in the crook of my elbow, not sleeping, just watching me.

“He was worried. He wasn’t the only one.”

I started to apologize, but Cassian continued.

“I wanted to ask…your wound… the sigil on your thigh… is it…”

“It’s still there,” I murmured, lazily petting Fig. The wound, the pain, the lack of magic. All of it, still there.

“Ah. I wondered if perhaps… with my blood being what it is, it might have…”

“Wouldn’t that just be the kicker,” I said, almost smiling. “I do the one thing Vael didn’t want me to do: drink from you, and that’s what ends up saving me.”

But my expression fell the moment I said his name.

“How…how is he—?”

“He’s in his quarters,” Cassian said, carefully. “He and Anton had… well. A disagreement.”

“About what?”

“Never mind that. Besides, I don’t know the specifics, only that Anton handled it. And let’s just say Vael is currently... sulking.”

“Oh…” I trailed off, unsure if I wanted more detail. “Is that how you do things? A hierarchy by age?”

“Generally. Age means survival. Survival means wisdom. There are many who’d rather see us dead. If you can outlast them... you earn authority.”

“How old are you?” I asked, squinting at him. “And be honest. You don’t get to dodge with ‘oh, we didn’t count years back then’—”

Cassian chuckled. “That’s actually true. We didn’t. Not consistently, anyway.”

“Oh gods,” I groaned dramatically. “You’re older than numbers?”

He gave me a long-suffering look, but I caught the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Very funny.”

“No, really,” I pressed, grinning now. “Did you help invent counting? Did you know someone who did?”

“If I say yes, will you let me finish?”

“Absolutely not.”

Cassian sighed. Theatrically.

“By my estimation,” he said, “I’m nearing five hundred.”

I let out a low whistle. “And I’m twenty-seven, which means… yikes.”

“Quite the age gap,” he said, lips twitching.

“You look good for your age.”

“You say that now. Just wait until I start insisting music peaked in Year 543.”

I laughed—and immediately winced when my ribs protested. Cassian’s hand shifted at once, steadying me, like he’d been waiting for the moment I tried to move too quickly.