Page 37 of Bitten & Burned

“We can run very quickly when we need to,” Anton murmured. “I felt your panic. I was closer. But Cassian’s likely been running since then.”

“I felt the bond settle about halfway here, but I wanted to be certain,” Cassian explained.

He entered the room fully, still flushed, hair mussed. He knelt beside me, ran his knuckles down my cheek, and wiped away a tear.

“Are you alright, little dove?” he asked, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

No. I wasn’t. But if I said so, they’d unravel.

“I’m fine,” I whispered. “Quil took care of it.”

Cassian’s eyes flicked to Quil. “Good. I want a full report. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

“You can discuss it in front of me,” I said, firmer than I felt. “I’d prefer it. I don’t like being left in the dark.”

“Of course.” He kissed my brow again, then straightened. “What happened?”

Anton began. “I left to go to the market in Serpentine Bay. I wanted to buy some gifts for Rowena.”

Cassian nodded. And between Quil and Anton, I heard everything.

Every detail. Quil’s voice broke more than once

When I realized how close it had gotten—how close they’d come to doing more—I broke down completely, sobbing into Anton’s shirt.

“Darling, what is it?” he asked.

“I thought they—” I choked. “Quil, thank you. I thought—”

“No, no. They weren’t trying to… anything like that,” Quil soothed.

“They weren’t?” I asked.

He shook his head.

“Why?” I asked.

“Yeah, why?” Anton added. “Why would they go to all of that trouble just to… ” He gestured vaguely with his hand.

“I don’t know,” Quil said with a shrug that felt just a bit too practiced.

Cassian, ever the soldier, narrowed his eyes. “Is there more you’re not telling us?”

Quil sighed, wiping his hands on his trousers before looking back at Cassian. “They were on bloodroot,” he stated.

“Bloodroot?” Cassian and Anton echoed in unison.

The word echoed inside my head, like it was trying to carve out meaning.

Bloodroot.

Where had I—?

I blinked.

The letter. Thalia’s letter.

She hadn’t explained it, not fully—just written in her hurried, smudged hand that she’d come across the word in old records. That it felt important. That I was better at piecing these things together than she was.

My stomach dropped.

“Thalia asked me about it,” I said suddenly, sitting up straighter. “In her letter. She thought it mattered. I should have—” My voice broke. “I should have paid more attention.”

Anton’s gaze sharpened. “You asked me and Vael about it. You couldn’t have known you’d need more than what we told you.”

“What does it do?” I asked, heart beginning to race. “Exactly? I’ve only heard of students using it to study. To cram for exams.”

“It grows all over in the Western Pines. Heightens aggression. Dulls pain. Triggers fixations,” Quil said quietly. “Definitely shouldn’t be used for academic purposes.”

“Vael said it was only dangerous if it became a habit,” I recalled.

Quil snorted. “That’s what the professor said?” He spat the title like it tasted bad. “Vael’s a fool if he thinks that. It’s used to hunt us now.”

Anton sighed. “I tried to tell him, but he thinks he knows everything.”

I frowned. “So is it addictive or isn’t it?”

“Depends,” Quil said. “On the person.”

“And these people… were addicted?”

Quil nodded grimly. “Their eyes were yellow. Their skin was clammy. One of them smiled at me while I broke his arm. They were on it. A lot of it. Addicted.”

A cold ripple ran down my spine.

“They weren’t just attacking me,” I said, voice thin. “They were hunting. You said it was used to hunt vampires. Could it be used to hunt humans as well? Do you think it was personal? Or random?”

“Personal,” Cassian said, pacing again. “The ropes. The coordination. Even drugged, they knew how to move. Addicts don’t scale yachts; they were looking for something.”

“Yes,” Anton agreed. “Which means someone sent them.”

“They asked me if I was marked,” I said quietly.

All three of them turned to me at once.

“‘Are you marked, bitch?’” I repeated. “That’s what the raspy one said. Then I spit in his face and he…”

I trailed off. My face went hot.

“And he…?” Cassian prompted gently.

“He hit me. Hard…” I touched my cheek, remembering the sting.

Quil swore under his breath.

“Then he asked to ‘see it.’ I don’t know what he meant. I thought he meant the bites, maybe.” I reached up to touch my neck. “Some people still don’t like vampire-human relationships, but… I’ve never had someone react with violence.”

Anton’s arms wrapped tighter around me. “That might be it. I’ve never encountered that kind of sentiment in Serpentine Bay, though. That’s why I keep a place here. Well, that and I grew up here.”

“Really?” I asked, surprised. “You’re from here?” Suddenly, the trip didn’t seem so random. Anton had been taking me to his hometown.

“Yes. Mostly for when I want to be alone. The staff there are discreet. More so than the yacht crew. And the yacht crew is very discreet.”

“So… these hunters…they’re vampire haters?” I said softly. “Vampire hunters?”

“Seems that way.”

Cassian sniffed, glancing over at Quil for a long moment before speaking again. “Still. Grappling hooks. Ropes. Scaling the yacht? Feels too organized for bloodrooted bigots.”

“Agreed,” Anton said.

“We can’t be sure there won’t be more,” Cassian added. “This could’ve been a probe.”

“You’re right,” Anton said. “We need to split up. Cassian—you take her to my apartment here. She can rest there for the day. Quil and I will take the yacht back to Kravenspire. We’ll go the long way.”

Cassian nodded.

“You can leave tomorrow night—hire a carriage to Halemont. It’ll be rough travel, and more expensive, but safer. Fewer eyes.”

I frowned. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I know, darling. But this is to keep you safe. Quil and I will see you in three days.”

I still didn’t want them to go, but I didn’t have much choice in this.

I sniffed. “Okay… three days isn’t that long.”

“Exactly.” Anton smiled. “Now let me grab your things.”

“I can—”

“No, Rowena,” he cut me off. “You don’t want to go back in there right now.”

I frowned. “Is it bad?”

“Quil was… thorough.”

“Good,” I said softly.

Quil squeezed my fingers.

Anton stood and laid me gently back onto the chaise before heading to the door.

Cassian was still pacing.

“Cassian,” I said quietly.

He looked up, eyes sharp. “Yes?”

“Are you alright? You seem… nervous.”

“I don’t like not knowing where a threat comes from,” he said, jaw tight. “That means we’re already behind.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“No, it’s not your fault,” Cassian said. “It’s never your fault.”

“It is, sometimes,” I said with a watery laugh.

“Not to my knowledge,” Quil murmured, squeezing my hand.

I looked at him. His eyes were soft, his thumb grazing the back of my hand. He was almost unrecognizable from a few days before.

“That’s not been my experience,” I replied. “Feels like I’m always causing trouble for you guys… I can’t seem to keep it together. Quil was worried I was going to be trouble. Turns out he was right.”

“None of this is your fault,” Quil insisted. “Say it. Say it’s not your fault.”

“Quil—”

“Say. It.”

I looked to Cassian, who shrugged. “I agree with him.”

Sighing, I looked back at Quil. “It’s not my fault.”

“Damn right, it’s not.”

I curled up on my side, facing Quil. I reached over to tuck some of his hair behind his ear. My hand came back bloody. I gasped.

He turned, looked at my hand, and felt his head. “S’not mine.” As if that were the reason I’d gasped.

I stared at him, his face in profile. He had a very regal-looking nose from this angle. His brow was the perfect amount of protrusion, his chin as well. Very symmetrical face. He probably was quite handsome back when he’d been living in his home with his family.

He was fucking gorgeous now.

The long-haired wild look suited him. I certainly liked it.

He turned slightly, his eyes flicking to mine. “You’re staring at me.”

“Your face is pretty…” I reached out, running my finger from his forehead, down his nose, over to his chin.

“Thank… you?” He asked, glancing at Cassian and back to me. “You still blooddrunk on Anton?”

I scoffed. “No. Take the compliment, Ashborne. You’re fucking gorgeous.”

He flinched like I’d struck him.

I blinked. “Oh, sorry,” I said. “That came out meaner than I wanted… what I really meant was…”

“Wasn’t mean. Just wasn’t expecting it.”

I lay my head back down, tugging his hand with me. I clung to his forearm like a pillow—until he actually slipped one under my head. Only then did I relax again.

I was going to tease him some more about being devastatingly handsome, but I fell asleep again.

Turns out being attacked is tiring. Go figure.