Page 29 of Bitten & Burned

“What did you do?” I muttered.

“What?” Anton asked, frowning slightly.

“It’s what Vael said,” I whispered. “After… after…” I couldn’t finish. My voice cracked on the memory. “He looked at me and asked, ‘What did you do?’ And I’ve been asking myself the same thing ever since.”

The silence pressed in like a weight. Anton squeezed my hand, his thumb brushing over the back of it.

“Do you think he’s right?” I asked. My voice was too small. Too exposed. “That I wanted this? That I brought it on myself because—”

I didn’t even know what the end of the sentence was. Because I wanted too much? Because I was curious? Because I was already broken in ways I didn’t understand?

Anton didn’t speak right away. He just reached out and brushed a tear from the corner of my eye with the back of one bruised knuckle. He tucked my hair behind my ear.

Then he leaned in, his voice low and resolute.

“I think Vael was hurt and therefore cruel. And I think that question has been used against people like you for centuries. You didn’t do anything, Rowena. You trusted. You wanted closeness. That’s not a crime. You care. The feelings were there. On both sides, or it wouldn’t have taken.”

“Really?” I whispered.

“Really,” he replied. “I’m surprised you didn’t know that. How much did Vael tell you about blood bonding rituals?”

“Not enough, if I accidentally bonded with the whole coven,” I said, laughing softly. “Maybe he didn’t know about… the feelings.”

“I don’t think he knows about his own feelings, let alone the feelings of others,” Anton ruminated.

“Even Quil?” I asked. When he frowned in confusion, I rephrased. “Quil had feelings, too?”

Anton chuckled. “Oh, mon cher, you truly are a refreshingly naive little mouse, aren’t you?”

I rolled my eyes. “Sorry, I don’t accept that he had feelings for me and simply… pushed me away. That’s immature and asinine.”

“So is Quil,” he replied. “He cares about you. He’s just too deep in his own melancholy to realize that he’s allowed to.”

I laughed and reached for his hand, still on my cheek, and I laced our fingers. “Well, if I didn’t know it, I’m not surprised Vael didn’t know it either. I just… wish I had so I could have prepared better.”

“You didn’t break anything,” he murmured. “Vael did.”

I swallowed hard. My throat ached.

“You really believe that?”

“I do,” Anton said. “And one day, you will too.”

I sat in the silence for a long moment.

“I love him.”

Anton didn’t have to ask who ‘him’ was.

“I know you do.”

“I didn’t want to hurt him.”

“Vael is someone who has a talent for feeling wounded. His aura, his entire being… It’s not bad until it is.”

“It’s bad now.”

Anton nodded. “It is.”

“I never meant to break him,” I whispered, my voice harsh and sharp in my throat.

“He’s not broken. He’s unravelling. It’s not your fault he’s too dramatic to hold himself together.”

“We held each other together,” I said softly.

“You can’t keep bleeding yourself dry to keep him whole,” Anton whispered. “You’re one human person, Rowena. And Vael’s an immortal vampire, over a century old. He should be holding you together.”

“I don’t expect him to. I don’t expect any of you to do that,” I said.

“Oh, believe me, we all know.” He leaned over to kiss the top of my head as he rose. “I hope that you’ll at least try to let us sometimes. Let us feel useful, Rowena. We desperately want to be.”

I laughed softly.

“You should sleep now,” he said, reaching to tuck the blankets around me.

“Anton?”

“Hmm?”

“Tell Quil… when he’s ready, he can come in. I don’t care if I’m sleeping or whatever. Just tell him to come in.”

Anton squeezed my hand. “I will pass along the message. But for now, admire the moonlight, luxuriate in your feather bed, and marinate in our protection...” He paused, looking around the room.

“You know, I decorated in here, but it feels wrong now that you’re here…

when you’re better, I should… we should… redecorate. Make it more… you.”

“More me? You mean a teacup graveyard where half-drunk tea goes to die? Piles of books and manuscripts, and scrolls? A huge mess full of parchment weevils?”

“Precisely. I want to look in here and know it’s yours. That you live here. That you’re… ours.”

I laughed softly. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Yes, but I wear it well, darling. It’s no easy feat, being this wonderful.” His smile was warm, and he bowed deeply as he backed out the door. “à bient?t, mon c?ur, ma chatonne, mon chou.”

“My heart, my kitten, my… cabbage?” I murmured.

“Yes, sweet dreams, my cabbage.”

I closed my eyes, pretending sleep would come easily. Fig meowed softly as I scooted around to get comfortable.

I let my gaze drift out the window to the nearly full moon. I took a deep breath and prayed to my goddess:

“Inera, lady of mirrors, of light, of the shadows within it… hear my prayer. I know it’s been too long.

I know I turned my face from yours, and only come crawling back now, when I’ve nearly lost everything.

I lost your guidance, your tender ties to my magic, and tonight, I nearly lost my life.

I was almost gone. I felt the dark closing in, and I don’t know why I’m still here.

My body shakes, my wound burns, and I don’t know which way I’ll fall.

If you still see me, hold me steady. Just long enough to breathe. Thank you, my lady...”

I exhaled, tears staining my pillow as I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.