Page 38 of Bitten & Burned

Seventeen

HELD

Serpentine Bay, Euraline, Verdune

It felt different this time.

Still lush and opulent, like the yacht—only grounded.

Soft music played from a phonograph somewhere nearby. A fire crackled gently in the fireplace. That explained the warmth.

I’d kicked the blankets off my lower half and lay still, curled around a pillow like it might hold me together.

I stretched, my fingers brushing the headboard.

A bed.

Not the yacht, though. My stomach wasn’t flipping with the waves.

I still hadn’t opened my eyes, but I figured I probably should if I wanted to figure out where I was.

Blinking slowly, I took in the room.

The fire wasn’t roaring, just crackling—low and steady, casting the whole room in a soft glow. There wasn’t much sunlight, but that was probably due to a lack of windows rather than the hour.

I felt Fig stretch on my feet. I glanced down to see my cat curled into a ball at the bottom of the bed.

So I wasn’t entirely alone.

The bed was large. Opulent. A four-poster frame. Velvet tapestries dressed the walls. Wine-colored bedding. Everything screamed Anton.

His apartment, then. This must be it. The one in Serpentine Bay.

I swallowed, my throat dry and sore. My whole body ached—deep, slow, unrelenting.

The pain in my thigh flared with each movement, a cruel reminder I wasn’t free of it yet.

I swung my feet over the edge of the bed, expecting him to be in another room. Perhaps in the kitchen.

But when I stepped out into the hallway, I froze.

A grand staircase curved downward like a spiral. That’s when it hit me, sharp and cold. I remembered.

Anton and Quil weren’t here.

Just Cassian.

They’d taken the yacht back up the coast. The long way. They would be gone for three days.

My shoulders slumped.

I’d hoped, foolishly, that they would’ve at least said goodbye before leaving.

I hovered at the top of the stairs, torn between going down or retreating to the cocoon of wine-colored bedding, willing the day to cease existing.

I must’ve stood there too long, because footsteps echoed on the marble and Cassian appeared at the base of the stairs.

The bond hummed faintly at the sight of him—steady, grounding—but it only made the hollow left by the others ache more.

He looked up at me, warm eyes meeting mine.

“Are you coming down, little dove?”

I shook my head, shifting on my feet. “I think I’ll just stay up in bed…”

His voice softened. “Would you like something to eat?”

I hesitated. “No… not really.”

“That’s alright,” he said, turning slightly. “I’ll just make some tea anyway. You don’t have to drink it, but I’ll feel better, knowing that it’s there.”

“I’m sorry,” I muttered, though I wasn’t sure what for. For worrying him, for being difficult, for always being too much and not enough.“Tea could be nice,” I added.

He nodded once and disappeared through a door to what I could only assume was the apartment’s kitchen.

I hadn’t explored this place. Without Anton, it almost felt wrong to do so.

So I turned and went back to the bedroom.

I crawled back into the safety of the bed that still carried his scent. Fuck, I missed him.

My heart ached in my chest at the thought. I wanted him here. Quil too.

I didn’t want them sailing a stupid boat up the coast. I wanted them here. With me. In bed. Preferably naked, or close to it. Gods, I just wanted things to slow down. Just for a moment. I wanted them to have stayed.

Maybe that was the cruelest part—I’d only just begun to understand how badly I wanted them, and now they were already gone.

By the time Cassian returned with the tea, I was trying—and failing spectacularly—not to cry.

He moved slowly, bringing me the steaming cup of fragrant tea and setting it within reach, but not in my hands, as if he sensed even that would be too much right now.

“Chamomile,” he said softly. “With lemon and a touch of honey. It’s what I make for Vael when he’s brooding.”

I chanced a smile, but regretted it immediately. I clenched my jaw, willing it to stop quivering. “Thank you.”

Cassian sat down once more, pulling his chair a bit closer. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Yes,” I said. “No... I mean, yes. I mean… fuck, I don’t know. I wouldn’t make any sense if I did.”

“So don’t make any sense,” Cassian said with a smile. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m nearly five hundred. I’ve made peace with nonsense.”

My face twisted into some ghoulish half-smile, half-sob, and I buried it in the pillow.

“I’m so tired of being left,” I mumbled into the pillow. Clearly not mumbling enough, because he heard me clearly.

He didn’t flinch. He moved closer until he was kneeling beside me on the floor, his hand reaching for mine, resting his head on the bed as he stroked my back. “You haven’t been left, Rowena. They’d be here if they could be.”

The bond thrummed faintly with his steadiness, an anchor I both clung to and resented.

“They could be,” I argued.

“Not when the alternative is you being hurt again. That’s not a choice either Quil or Anton would ever make.

You’re too special to them. This wasn’t even a decision.

Of course, they want to be with you. That’s why they did this.

So they can be with you, as long as you wish to be with them.

They chose you, little dove. And part of choosing you is protecting you.

You must realize—with five bonded vampires—you’re the most protected little witch in Verdune. ”

He didn’t move. Not right away. He stayed, thumb tracing circles over the back of my hand as I tried to press myself deeper into the bed.

“I don’t want to be protected,” I whispered. The mark on my thigh pulsed angrily, as if mocking the words.

Cassian’s head lifted, his voice impossibly low and calm. “You do; you just want to choose how.”

“I don’t want to be alone.”

“You’re not.”

“I feel like I am. You’re here, I know that, but—” My chin wobbled. “I’m sorry,” I whispered automatically. “It’s not that you’re not enough...”

“But he’s not here, and he just was holding you hours ago,” Cassian said gently. I wasn’t sure if he meant Quil or Anton.

I wasn’t sure who I meant either.

And Vael…gods, even he felt absent, though the bond still carried the weight of his brooding silence.

But I nodded just the same, the tears coming, unwanted, but very predictable.

Cassian didn’t offer platitudes. He simply held me, let the tears fall where they would. He didn’t try to soothe them away.

He was just… there. He stayed. Steady as gravity.

“I know it hurts,” He said softly, stroking the back of my head. “You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t.”

That made it worse somehow. The kindness of it. The permission to fall apart.

A broken sound clawed its way up my throat. I shuddered, tried to bite it back, but Cassian was already there.

He moved, pulling back the blanket and climbing into bed with me.

Not pressing, not assuming, or pushing. Just curling behind me, his chest to my back. One hand still in mine as he tucked his face into my neck. “May I hold you?” he asked softly.

I nodded, tears falling hot on my cheeks. “Please.”

He gathered me in without crowding, without squeezing. Just his presence. Just warmth. His fingers found my ribs, light and steady. The kind of touch that said I’m not going anywhere.

We lay like that for a long time.

My heartbeat eventually slowed. I felt… calmer.

When I finally exhaled—really exhaled—his lips brushed my temple in the whisper of a kiss. Not hungry. Not leading anywhere. Just… there.

But I felt the shift. The shift between comfort and want. Between aching… and aching.

I turned in his arms, curling to face him. The mark on my thigh throbbed as I moved, a sharp reminder that pain was always waiting. But Cassian’s steadiness dulled it, if only for a moment.

Cassian didn’t ask. Didn’t assume. Just lifted his hand to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, eyes meeting mine, memorizing the way the color shifted in them from one breath to the next.

I touched his jaw, my fingers lingering.

“I’m tired of always needing,” I whispered. “I want to give, too.”

“I know.”

“But I still do. Need.”

He nodded once. “So let me be what you need. Give me that.”

I didn’t speak. I didn’t have to.

I leaned in and kissed him—slow and uncertain at first, a question more than anything else.

Cassian answered it with a sigh against my mouth, tilting his head, deepening the kiss just enough to say yes. Yes, I’m here. Yes, I want this too.

His hand cupped my jaw, thumb brushing the corner of my mouth like he couldn’t quite believe he was allowed to touch me like this.

The bond stirred, humming warm and steady, echoing his restraint and reverence.

My fingers slid down the side of his neck, finding the warm hollow of his collarbone. His body was so solid, so real, and still he moved with the careful grace of a man who didn’t want to scare the moment away.

When our mouths parted, he rested his forehead against mine.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he said quietly.

“I know.”

“You can fall apart. I’ll hold all the pieces.”

“I know that too.” My hands found the edge of his shirt. “But right now, I don’t want to fall apart. I want to feel… something else.”

Cassian exhaled hard, like he’d been holding his breath. Maybe he had.

He let me lift his shirt.

He let me explore.

Warm skin. A dusting of hair across his chest. The slow and steady thrum of his pulse just beneath the surface.

When he kissed me again, it wasn’t quite so patient.

His mouth lingered, then pressed deeper, and he drew back just enough to murmur, “I’ve been holding this back for weeks.

Waiting for you to be ready. But now…” His lips brushed mine again, rougher this time, his breath hot against my cheek.

“Now I don’t think I can keep pretending I don’t want you. ”

“Good,” I whispered, clutching at him. “Because I don’t want you to.”