Page 9 of Bitten & Burned

“Then a blood bond is the closest thing we can get to curbing your pain.”

I cocked my head slightly. “You don’t want me to become a vampire?”

“If you don’t wish for this life, darling, I don’t wish it for you. I want you to be happy in your skin. I chose this. It doesn’t mean you have to.”

He said it like a vow; part of me wanted to believe being chosen could be gentle. But another wary part knew vows in Camarae’s tongue were hard to untangle once they’d been knotted.

“Even if it means I die before you?”

“Well, a blood bond will lengthen your life considerably. And I, for one, think the pain management benefits pale in comparison to the thought of a near eternity spent with you.”

My heart hammered in my chest. Gods, I think I love him. I bit back the words, settling for a warm smile. “So you’d be willing to try it with me?”

“Didn’t think I’d ever want to—then you came along.”

I had to admit that it felt good. Too good. Gods, I hoped he wasn’t just blowing smoke up my ass. I took several breaths, counting in my head before I replied. I didn’t want to scare him off.

“Has anyone else in your coven ever bonded to someone before?”

Vael pondered the question before answering. “Cassian may have had a bond like this before, but he and his partner let it fade.”

“Let it fade?”

“Yes, if you don’t nurture the bond, it withers and dies.”

“Does that hurt?”

“It’s more emotional than physical, though Cassian mentioned there was some discomfort. Once it’s gone, though, it’s as if a weight lifts.”

I nodded, thinking it through. If none of them had bonded before, would they accept it? If I bonded with Vael, and he was connected to the others, then by extension, they’d be responsible for me. Had he thought about that angle yet?

“Do you think your coven will approve of the bond?” I asked suddenly.

Vael paused, his hand still on Fig’s back, mid-scratch. “I hadn’t really thought about it. Why do you ask?”

“Because, I was thinking, if we’re doing this… if you’re still wanting to do it…?” I paused, looking at him.

He nodded, “And I do.”

“Right, so if we’re bonded, I’m for all intents and purposes with you, correct?”

Vael chuckled. “I would argue you’re with me now, Witchling—but yes, officially it would mean that I am yours and you are mine.

He caught the look I gave him and laughed softly. “Not ownership--don’t look at me like that—I mean it in the old way. Claimed. Bound. Protected. Desired.

“Vael. I get it. I know what you mean,” I insisted, but the blush rising up my neck betrayed me.

“Good, I just didn’t want you thinking that I’d be slapping a collar on you and dragging you back to Halemont on a leash. He leaned closer, brushing his nose against mine before pulling back slightly. “But yes, it would mean that you’re with me.”

I nodded. “And you’re coven-bonded to them, yes?”

“Yes, but that’s a different sort of thing entirely.”

“I know, but still, if I’m with you, and you’re covenbonded to them—”

Realization dawned on his face, and he gave a low, thoughtful hum. “Ah, yes. I see it now, you want to know what they think—because being mine would mean you’re under their protection too. Not just mine.”

I let out a breath. “Exactly.”

He hummed softly, scratching Fig’s ears while he thought. “Their approval doesn’t matter to me, not truly—but I care if it matters to you. And I care if it would make your life harder.”

I felt a surge of love for him, but I merely reached for his hand before responding. “So, if they aren’t supportive? What will you do?”

“Then I’ll persuade them, Witchling. And if persuasion fails, I’ll remind them that I am not asking their permission—I’m giving them a chance to stand beside us willingly. They’d be fools not to.”

I settled back against the seat, resting my head for a moment. “Quil won’t like it.”

Vael huffed out a soft laugh, reaching for her hand and lacing their fingers. “No, he won’t. He’ll sulk and scowl and threaten me, but in the end, he’ll come around. He always does.”

“I hope so,” I murmured, my thoughts turning to Quil against my will. I didn’t like thinking about him. Not because I disliked him. Because it hurt.

Quil Ashborne had a wild look to him, like a caged animal.

Every time I faced him, he watched me sideways, as if I were backing him into a corner he refused to stay in.

He spoke, but never to me—just around me.

Vael, tell your… companion to move her cloak from the sofa downstairs.

Vael, tell your companion to close the library door when she’s done in there; the draft makes my rooms too cold.

Vael, tell your companion to leave her books in the library—I’m sick of tripping over them everywhere—that’s what the library’s for, after all. ”

He always looked half-feral, too: hair just a bit too long, never tidy, just a dark mess that fell over his brow when he frowned at me—and he was always frowning at me. I wasn’t sure there was another expression he could make.

There was always stubble on his jaw, as if the idea of a razor or neatness offended him.

He wore his clothes like armor—battered black trousers tucked into scuffed boots, shirts with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, cuffs frayed from too many fights or too little care.

Once, when he brushed past me in the hall, I caught a glimpse of ink on his forearm—something sharp and black, jagged lines like claws or branches.

I wanted to ask what it meant. I never did.

I’d tried, once, to be kind. I offered him a cup of tea when I found him brooding by the fire. He didn’t even look at me. Just said, “Vael, tell your companion not to hover.”

And yet, every time he stalked away, some foolish part of me wanted to follow him. I wanted to know why he resented me so much. I didn’t have the strength to hear his answer.

“Hey… you went somewhere again… I’m going to run out of florins at this rate, Witchling.”

I chuckled. “Sorry. Guess I’m just being pensive this evening.”

“Well, if I were to guess the destination of your journey, you were… contemplating Quil and his likely reaction?”

I nodded. “I just… don’t understand why he resents me so much.”

Vael sighed softly, eyes thoughtful. “Quil isn’t one to easily accept change, especially when it feels like someone is being placed between him and what he knows.

It’s not you he resents, not really—it’s the shift, the loss of control.

He’s been through a lot, more than most realize…

the Ashborne family… they were a rough place to start.

And sometimes, when someone is dealing with that much systemic pain, they lash out at the closest thing, even if it’s unfair.

” He gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “It doesn’t make it right, but it’s part of who he is. ”

“He’s known me for the better part of a year, though.”

Vael smirked, eyes glinting, “A year is nothing to an immortal being—time means different things to us.”

“I suppose that’s true,” I mused, settling back against the seat.

I watched the countryside turn from green pastures to dark forests, entering the tree line, the moonlight in the carriage dimmed until it was nearly swallowed by darkness.

As we moved along, I felt it. In my hip this time. A burn that crept in slowly and then surged, growing until tears welled in my eyes. If it had just come on a tiny bit slower, I might have managed, but as it was, I groaned when the pain hit me in waves.

“What?” Vael asked. “What is it?”

“It hurts,” was all I could muster before everything went small like a pinpoint.

I stretched my arms forward, searching for anything solid inside the cab. Then, I felt Vael’s hands on mine, squeezing tightly.

“Hey, Hey, are you in there, Witchling?” He whispered.

I nodded. “Yeah.” My voice sounded strange in my ears, far away, almost tinny. My body shook as the pain shot through my hip, white-hot and searing.

I groaned louder this time, reaching down to grab my hip. This wasn’t right. Something was wrong. It was getting worse. Much worse, much faster.

“Rowena! Rowena!” I heard Vael’s voice, but it felt miles away.

“Rowena!” He called again, right in my ear.

I wanted to see him, to talk to him, but when my eyelids fluttered open, I had to shut them again.

It was too much. Too bright. Too everything.

My heart hammered in my chest as my leg throbbed, the pain so sharp I could actually feel the shape of the sigil.

I gripped Vael’s hand and forced my eyes to open, to look at him, only him. “I need…” I murmured. “I need…”

“I know,” he said, dropping to the floorboards of the carriage. He slid his hand under the edge of my skirt.

Even though the movements felt intimate, and he’d spent many an evening doing exactly what he was doing now, it was wholly different.

It still felt urgent, but it was not thrilling in the slightest.

He was rummaging under my skirt so he could find the spot on my thigh. I felt the cold sting of his fangs as he bit down, and then there was more burning.

I hissed in discomfort, and he held my knees steady, drawing on my femoral artery until I felt my muscles relax.

The burning wasn’t so entirely encompassing anymore.

It still hurt, but it felt farther away, softer.

He’d had to take more blood this time. I could tell by how bruised I felt when he pulled his fangs out.

I breathed easy, and he licked at the wound to close it, coming back out from under my skirts so he could sit on the seat with me, gather me in his arms. I just held myself still against him, worried that the slightest jostling was going to set off the pain again.

I blinked.

He brushed the hair from my face. “How do you feel?”

“Woozy,” I admitted.

“I was afraid of that,” he muttered under his breath, bringing his wrist up to his mouth. I heard the soft crunch of his fangs against his skin. He held his wrist to my lips. “I took too much from you; you need to even out.”

So, I drank. It wasn’t the first time, and likely wouldn’t be the last. His blood tasted…

not like blood. I always thought it would taste like I had bitten my bottom lip or something.

But it never did. Apparently, each vampire had a slightly different taste, but Vael tasted deep and loamy, with a slightly bitter, acidic twinge at the end.

Sort of like mushrooms and vinegar, but with nothing but the mouth feel, none of the things that make vinegar taste like vinegar.

The tongue-feel. It was hard to describe, but not at all unpleasant.

It was a series of tastes that sort of bled into one another, no pun intended.

I hummed against his skin, and he combed through my hair with the fingers of his other hand.

“It was worse this time.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” I said around mouthfuls of his blood; it was the only word I could muster.

“I had to take so much blood just to ease the pain…This can’t be the remedy we use. Even if we were bonded, it’s a lot of blood, Rowena…”

A tear dripped out of my eye as I let go of his wrist. He brought it up to his mouth, close to the wound. “I know, but… I can’t figure out what in the hells this thing is.”

He nodded, stroking my head, pushing my hair from my face. “It might be safer—for now—if you remained at Halemont Manor for the time being. The coven can watch over you there, and we can try to figure this thing out there, without risk of you falling apart out here.”

There was no demand in his voice, only quiet insistence. “Think it over this weekend. Let me know then.”

“It’s temporary?” I asked.

“Of course,” he replied.

“And you’ll check with your covenmates before we make any definitive plans?”

“For you, Rowena, I will do anything.”

“Alright, pending their thoughts, I accept. I’ll stay. Tentatively.”

“Thank you,” he breathed a sigh of relief.

“You’re welcome,” I said softly, laying my head on the crook of his arm. Fig meowed again, this time a bit more urgently than before. I patted my stomach, and he hopped up and promptly started kneading on Vael’s leg, right beside my head.

All was silent for a few moments longer. Well, mostly silent. Fig was purring loudly.

“How much longer before we arrive?”

“Probably about twenty more minutes. I can slow down the carriage so when it goes down the hill to our front door, it won’t jostle you around too much. Might make it a little bit longer, though.”

“That’s fine,” I said, deciding not to be a hero.

As the seconds and minutes ticked by, I let my eyes close.