Page 44 of Bitten & Burned

Twenty

INTERRUPTIONS

Kravenspire, Sol, Verdune

Three sharp raps.

And then nothing.

“Can we ignore it?” I asked, curling deeper into Dmitri’s side.

“Let’s see,” he said, glancing towards the door expectantly.

The knock came again. Louder this time.

I groaned. “Oh gods, we can’t ignore it.”

“Don’t worry,” Dmitri murmured, stretching. “I’ll get rid of them.”

He rose like a man with no shame and even less urgency, feline and unhurried as he strolled across the room, still fully nude. I sat up, tugging the sheet higher over my chest because I wasn’t nearly as shameless.

Whoever it was, they’d better have a gods-damned good reason for interrupting what had been the most stress-free evening of my life in ages.

He opened the door mid-knock. Quil stood there, hand half-raised. Vael loomed behind him, arms crossed.

Neither flinched at the sight of Dmitri’s bare skin. Of course not. They’d seen it before. Living together for centuries meant you stopped being scandalized by bodies.

But they both looked past him. Straight at me.

Wrapped in a sheet. Hair tousled. Still in Dmitri’s bed.

Their faces didn’t change much—but they looked.

So that’s why they were here. To apologize. To patch it all up.

Too late.

“Found her,” Quil said.

“Didn’t know I was lost,” I muttered.

He winced. “We’ve been looking for you. We wanted to—”

“We need to speak with her,” Vael interrupted, voice clipped.

Of course. No apology, then. Just marching orders.

“Of course you do,” Dmitri said lazily, stepping aside. “She’s all yours. For now.”

Vael flicked his gaze up and down Dmitri’s body. “Do you mind putting something over... that? We have important matters to discuss.”

Dmitri didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t care.

He just leaned against the doorway like a statue carved out of golden arrogance and let the silence stretch.

I sighed. “I’ll get dressed.”

I slipped from the bed, pulling on my chemise in silence while they stood there like judgment given form. Let them watch. Let them stew.

Once I was decently covered, I folded my arms.

“Well? Speak.”

Vael didn’t answer. Not directly. He turned to Quil.

“Tell her,” he said. “She deserves to hear it from you.”

I narrowed my eyes. So that was it. Pass the shame baton. Make Quil do the hard part. I wasn’t sure if it was cowardice or cruelty.

But Quil didn’t flinch.

Not this time.

He looked at me. Really looked. And it struck me—Vael wasn’t. He was still focused on Dmitri. On Quil. On anyone but me. Keeping the conversation angled just enough to avoid me.

The way Quil used to.

As if I wasn’t the one bleeding at the center of this mess. Like it was easier to speak around me than look me in the eyes.

At least Quil didn’t look away.

He stepped forward, voice low and rough. His eyes were dark and focused. On me.

“The sigil on your leg?” he began.

I blinked. The wound? The one that had been plaguing my very existence for months? “What about it?”

At the mention, the sigil flared hot under my skin, as if it knew it was being spoken about.

“It’s not just a random sigil,” he said. “It’s got a purpose. It’s a family sigil, to be exact. My… my family.”

My pulse spiked.

“I have the same one on my back. It’s been there since I was thirteen…

” The bond jolted, staccato and jagged, like it wanted to reject the words even as Quil forced them out.

“It’s an Ashborne family ward.” He turned and pulled up his shirt, revealing a scar in the exact shape of the sigil on my thigh.

My stomach dropped.

“You’ve known I had it this whole time?” I asked, clipped.

“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head and dropping the hem of his shirt. “Only since the night you were attacked. On Anton’s boat. I’d never seen it before then, but you, you were…” he trailed off, throat bobbing. “I didn’t see it before that night.”

“And you didn’t think to mention it since then?”

“I thought I’d caused it,” he said, voice cracking. “I thought it was my fault. That I’d given it to you somehow.”

“And instead of saying something, you just took the easy way out? Just kept it to yourself?”

He frowned. “It didn’t feel easy,” he said. “It felt like dying. I… I thought it was my fault that you were suffering. All of this, my fault.”

I stared at him, arms still crossed. Heart in my throat.

“Guilt’s rough,” I said bluntly. “Not as rough as having this… damned thing on me.” I was so angry, I wanted to claw the cursed thing off.

I yanked up the hem of my chemise, fingernails digging into the skin around the wound.

“This thing…seeping into my skin. Into my blood. Making me sick. Making me hurt,” my voice broke. “Making me… gods, Quil.”

This whole time?

“I’m sorry,” he said. So sincerely, I almost believed him. “I’m so sorry.”

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. It was like this… wound, this sigil, this blasted… fucking thing couldn’t even give me a moment’s reprieve. I couldn’t think, godsdammit.

My hands went back to the wound again. Determined to scrape it off of me. Or to at least make it hurt more. If it was going to plague me, then plague me, dammit. I raked my fingers across the wound and hissed, sobbed when red welts rose. Pain bloomed.

My legs gave out. I let them.

I sank down into the chair behind me, head in my hands. “Gods, why won’t it stop?”

They all moved at once.

Dmitri first, his footsteps heavy as he came towards me.

But Quil, he was faster.

He reached me first—dropped to his knees in front of me, his hands covering mine, gently plucking them from my face and bringing them to his lips. He kissed the backs of both, slow and reverent, as if apology could be breathed into skin.

“Please,” he said, voice shaking, “Rowena, don’t do this…”

His grip tightened just slightly.

“If you need to make something bleed,” he whispered, “make it me. Please.”

A sound caught in my throat. Half sob, half breath. I couldn’t look at him.

Vael took two full steps forward before stopping cold.

“Rowena…please don’t hurt yourself…”

I looked up at him.

All I could think was how I used to love hearing him say my name.

Over and over and over again. Whispered against my skin. Murmured into the space between kisses. Growled when he—

Gods, it used to sound beautiful on his tongue.

Even now.

Especially now.

I blinked back tears, shaking my head like I could clear the fog. Clear away the guilt. The sigil. The ache in my chest and the sting in my skin.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I… I’m just—” The apology tumbled out before I could stop it, instinctive as breathing. “I shouldn’t have done that, I just… I’m not… I don’t know what to do now.”

“Don’t apologize,” Dmitri said, his voice steady, grounding. “Just—please. Let us take it. If you’re in pain, let us take it. Please.”

Dmitri’s words settled like a balm.

Quil’s hands remained in mine, rough and gentle, at the same time, a juxtaposition worthy of the man himself.

And Vael…

Vael was still standing back. He’d moved forward slightly, as if to come to me, but then he’d thought better of it.

My heart felt so raw and cracked open. I looked at his face and saw everything I’d been missing. Everything he was and everything he could be.

And I reached for him.

Just a hand at first. And then I felt the rest of me reach as well. No longer just a gesture. A want. A need. A desire.

To be with the one who’d always made me feel safe. Warm. Loved, even if he hadn’t said it.

He started to move immediately. Then stopped. Moved again. Stopped again. As if he couldn’t decide if I meant it or not.

His movements were heartbreaking, and I wanted nothing more than to wrap him up in my arms and kiss it all away.

I leaned into my reach, eyes on his, warm and welcoming—or so I hoped. I stood when he drew near, stepped into his arms, and rose on my toes to kiss him. My lips were nearly brushing his when he stopped me.

“Wait,” he said softly. “I can’t.”

My heart hammered in my chest. What? My breath hitched. “You don’t… want—”

“No, no, I… believe me, I want to, Rowena. Of course I do. I… ache for you, but I can’t—not with something hanging between us.”

“If this is about the bonding ceremony—” I began.

“No…” he said gently. “No, it’s nothing you’ve done. Or—nothing I’ve insinuated that you’ve done. I’m not upset with you; I fear you’ll be upset with me. For something I have done.”

I blinked. “What? What did you do?” The irony of my word choice wasn’t lost on me.

He was silent for a long moment. As if he wanted to wait as long as possible before speaking. But he finally did.

“I sent for your father. He’s on his way. He’ll be here tomorrow morning.”

A beat. Hot confusion burned through me as I peered into his honey-gold eyes like they would hold the truth I couldn’t grasp. The key to my confusion. They did not. They only gazed unflinchingly into mine. I stepped back, away from him. I needed distance. I needed…fuck, I didn’t even know.

“You what?” I asked, my voice barely audible. “Why?”

“Because. Of the amulet. He needs to see it. Inspect it. Tell us what he knows.”

“I would have called my father myself if I thought for a moment he was needed.”

Vael gave me a soft look, one that stated that he knew damn well I would never have willingly called my father in to help me. Even if I were dying, which… I suppose I sort of was. Slowly.

“Rowena…”

“Vael, you had no right.”

His eyes flashed. “I have every right. Every right when you refuse to see what needs to be done. When we took part in the blood bonding ritual, I vowed to take care of you in front of my coven and my goddess. And I will. Whether you like it or not.”

“You vowed to take care of me?” I repeated, a bitter laugh clawing its way up my throat. “Funny. I don’t recall that vow coming with the clause ‘unless she’s being difficult, in which case go behind her back.’”

Quil shifted behind me, a hand reaching towardss me, but not touching me yet. Dmitri stayed silent. Watching. Waiting.