Page 52 of Bitten & Burned

Twenty-Six

CAER VOSS

Caer Voss, Sol, Verdune

My father left for home when Vael, Quil, and I left for Caer Voss. He went as far as the city gate before leaving us. He gave me back the amulet, and I tucked it into my bag.

“Go to the library at Blackthorn,” he instructed.

“Get books there on metallurgy. Silversmithing. I have a list here of titles I recommend…” He pressed the list into my hands and then took both of them in his.

“I know you don’t want to be a part of what I do, and I understand.

I don’t agree, but I understand your need for your own life.

But please, for your own safety, Rowena…

learn what the metals can do. Write me if you need anything, my love.

” He kissed both my hands. “Anything. I’m not only the best silversmith in Verdune, I’m the fastest. I’ll make you whatever you think you might need. Just promise me you’ll get the books.”

I nodded.

“I promise, Father. I… I love you. I’m sorry I didn’t… keep in touch.”

“I love you too, Rowena. I’m sorry I made it so difficult for you to keep in touch.” He hugged me again.

We watched him board the carriage and head down the road, on his way back to Avonlynn, then we caught another carriage back to my apartment building.

Quil kept glancing out the window, up to the sky, and then peering at people out on the streets. “It’s midnight,” he grumbled. “Why are there so many people?”

“Midnight is when half the city comes alive. The foundry men get off shift, the gamblers stagger out of their holes, and the students crawl home from the Arcanum.”

“Yep, welcome to Caer Voss,” I said with a shrug. “It makes it easy to be nocturnal, but there are always people, so…”

Quil leaned his head out the window. “Well, the scent’s definitely melding in with everything else. So this was a good idea.”

Vael tipped his chin toward the streetlamps. “That’s Caer Voss’s only kindness—she hides what she doesn’t want seen. Blood, smoke, perfume… it all blends.”

I rolled my eyes. “She’s got other kindnesses as well.”

Vael chuckled. “Yes, well, you see, I’m being wistful.”

Quil shrugged. “I’d rather your wist than your arrogance, professor.” He glanced back at me. “Anywhere you need to go before your apartment?”

I shook my head. “Nope; let’s just go home.”

“I’m an archivist,” Vael muttered.

“What?” Quil asked.

“An archivist. I’m not a professor. To be quite honest, the word puts a foul taste in my mouth, so if you don’t mind—archivist.”

Quil appraised Vael as if he were something he was hunting. “I’d rather your wist than your arrogance, Vael.”

Vael only gave a thin smile, but I caught the flicker in his eyes. The word professor hadn’t just stung—it had cut deeper, and I knew why.

It took another fifteen minutes, but we soon pulled up in front of my apartment building.

I took Fig. Vael, and Quil competed for who could take more bags.

Quil won, his forearms bulging as he hoisted both of my bags and his own.

I rolled my eyes, and Vael smiled smugly as he took only his valise.

“I might have orchestrated that… too manipulative?”

I smirked. “Not manipulative—lazy.”

Quil groaned under his breath and muttered something that sounded like a curse.

We made our way to the lift in the middle of the lobby. Quil was on edge, looking at all the people.

“Why are they staring?” he asked.

“Because I’ve got twice the amount of vampires with me that I usually do,” I said simply, waving at one of my neighbors. “Not a big deal, I’ll explain it to them later. Just get on the lift.”

“Is it safe?” Quil asked, wrinkling his nose and peering into the cage.

“You’re a vampire, not an invalid. If it drops, you’ll live,” Vael replied, shouldering past him.

“What about Rowena?” Quil asked.

“Look, my leg is killing me. Better I’m taken out by a rogue lift than have to walk up twelve flights of stairs.”

“I’ll carry you,” Quil offered.

“We’ll be fine on the lift,” I insisted.

He hesitated briefly before climbing on with us. He jolted as the lift began moving, leaning over to mutter to both Vael and me: “Not a breath of this to the others, alright?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of ruining your reputation,” Vael said.

I smiled and reached for his hand, squeezing it as it carried us higher.

It deposited us on the thirteenth floor, but it was still a walk down several hallways before we reached my apartment.

Once outside, Quil stared at the door. “That’s it?”

“What do you mean, that’s it?” Vael asked. “There are rooms beyond the door.”

“I just thought… it’d be the whole floor, not part of it.”

“That’s why it’s an apartment,” I explained. “It’s a part of the building.”

“Still… you share walls with neighbors? With people you don’t even know?”

“Yeah, that’s home,” I said. “Now tell me, Quil…How angry would you be if I told you I forgot my key?”

He whipped his head towards me. Vael chuckled, and I laughed, “Calm down, it was a joke.” I pulled the key out of my pocket. Quil scowled, but I caught the flicker of relief before he masked it.

I stepped inside and let Fig out of his carrier, while Quil set all the bags down on the floor beside the door. Vael stepped inside, setting his valise on the floor beside them. He inhaled deeply. “Shall I make tea? It seems the only proper way to mark a homecoming.”

I was home.

I glanced around my apartment. Just a few short weeks before, I’d left it, supposedly just for the weekend.

And now? It felt as if everything had changed.

I wasn’t the same person I had been the last time I’d used my coffee press.

I wasn’t the same one who’d written the grocery list taped to the ice box.

Not the same one who’d last locked the door.

Fig wasn’t even the same phoeline he’d been the last time we’d been here.

I watched Fig as he ran around the apartment, to all his old spots, heard little mrrps as he found his favorite toy, encountered his empty food dish, and stomped through his clean litter box. He still seemed to remember in this new life, anyway.

“I was expecting something a little… bigger?”

I glanced back at Quil, who was gazing around the room.

“Are you saying my apartment’s too small for you, milord?” I asked, grinning.

“I’m saying I feel like I’m going to break everything here,” he countered.

“Don’t worry, Quil. The furniture’s sturdier than it looks. Survived me, after all,” Vael called from the kitchen.

I had to smile when I looked at the two of them.

Vael looked like he belonged, and Quil looked so out of place.

It was as if Vael were a teaspoon, not the same size as the other spoons in the drawer, but at least the same shape.

And Quil was a knife in the same drawer. Too sharp for a space this soft.

Quil rolled his shoulders and arms, accidentally swiping one of my cloaks off the coat rack and over-adjusting.

“Fuck, sorry…”

I’d never imagined watching him wrestle a coat rack would make me want to kiss him. Yet here we were. I bit back a laugh. “You’re fine,” I said. “It’s just a cloak, not a priceless relic.”

Quil looked unconvinced. He picked it up carefully, as if afraid it would combust in his hands.

“Still feels like I shouldn’t touch anything unless I’m told to.”

“You’re not a bull in a china shop,” I said gently.

He gave me a look. “No, but I’m a predator in a witch’s home.”

“So? Fig’s a tyrant in a cat’s body. It balances out.” I reached for his hand before he could withdraw into himself. “You belong here more than you think.”

Quil laughed, scratching his neck. “So it is just… this?” He looked around.

“Gods, Quil, you make me feel as if I’m living in squalor.”

“No, I just meant… are all apartments this small in the city?”

Before I could reply, Fig leapt up onto Quil’s shoulder, tail flicking against his jaw.

“There,” I said smugly. “If Fig approves, you’re forgiven.” I walked over to the window, where I threw back the curtains to reveal the skyline. “Not as many stars here, but there are tons of lights.”

Quil blinked as he stared at the window. “It’s almost as bright as day, isn’t it?” He moved closer. “Almost feels like it used to… all the light, but no warmth.”

Vael approached from behind, holding two mugs of tea. “I quite agree. It’s strange at first, but you do get used to it.”

Quil’s fingers brushed the glass. “I used to think I’d never miss daylight. But sometimes I do.”

I took the mug from Vael, bringing it to my lips. A bit too bitter for my taste. Perhaps Anton was rubbing off on me. “This needs more sugar,” I said simply, turning towards the kitchen.

I made it three steps before the floor tilted under me.

Too fast. I’d moved too fast, and now I was paying for it.

My thigh throbbed in time with my pulse. My vision swam. I set my forehead gently against the counter, bracing myself on my elbows as the room spun around me.

Quil was saying something. I couldn’t hear it—not clearly. His voice was too quiet.

Until it wasn’t.

The counter was cool beneath my skin. I tried to cling to it, but the pulse in my thigh drowned out everything else.

Quil’s voice cut through the haze, rough and insistent. “Rowena—look at me. Godsdammit, look at me.”

A hand cupped the back of my neck. Too hot. Too urgent. My knees wavered.

Vael’s voice came from behind him, low and deliberate. “She needs blood. I can—”

But Quil was already dragging me upright, already tearing into his wrist with his teeth. “No. Mine.”

His wrist pressed to my mouth before I could form the word wait.

The taste hit like a cold shot of whiskey—iron, smoke, and the rain. My body convulsed, desperate, the hunger tearing up through me faster than I could resist.

Heat spread outward from my throat, racing into my chest, down into the wound that had been bleeding me hollow for days. The pounding in my thigh dulled. The spinning slowed.

Quil’s other hand stayed at my jaw, trembling, holding me to him like he was afraid I’d slip away if he let go.