Page 21

21

GAIDA

I wake to an empty bed, the silk sheets cool against my skin where Luke should be. Stretching, I sense someone else in the room. Felix sits in a high-backed chair, his profile outlined by moonlight, watching me with an intensity that makes my skin tingle.

“Creepy much?” I murmur, sitting up and holding the sheet to my chest.

His lips quirk in that half-smile I’ve come to know so well. “I was invited.”

“By who?”

“Luke.” He rises, moving closer, graceful and predatory. “He said you needed me.”

My heart skips a beat. “Did he now?”

“He did.” Felix sits on the edge of the bed, close enough that I can smell the lightning of his magick crackling at his fingertips. “He also said I should tell you how I feel.”

I swallow hard, suddenly very aware of my nakedness beneath the sheet. “And how is that?”

His grey eyes lock with mine, vulnerability and determination battling for dominance. “It’s hard for me to say.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to, but I’m complicated.”

“Aren’t we all?” I give him a soft smile.

He chuckles. “You more than most. I’m not good at this. At feeling things. At admitting I feel things.”

“I’ve noticed,” I say, reaching out to touch his hand. “But you’re here now.”

“I’m here now,” he echoes, turning his hand to capture mine. His touch sends electricity through my veins. “I’ve spent my life keeping people at a distance. I don’t connect easily. Or at all, really. But with you, it’s different.” His thumb traces circles on my palm. “I tried not to feel anything for you. I tried to keep it simple. But that soul bond that snuck up on us is hard to ignore.”

I nod, but leave him to say his piece.

He searches my eyes, looking to see if he can trust me with whatever he has to say. I don’t want to say the words, they mean nothing. He has to know that he can, not have me tell him so. I scoot forward, and the sheet pulls, exposing the curve of my breast. His eyes go to it, and with a shaking hand, he reaches out to trace the line of it.

“You’re beautiful, Gaida,” he murmurs and then curses. “Fuck. That is so lame. You’ve probably heard that a million times.”

“Not from you.”

His gaze darts to mine before dropping to my mouth. My lips part, and he cups my face gently before his hand grips the back of my neck tightly, pulling me towards him. “You’re beautiful, my vampire princess. Show me your fangs.”

Smiling seductively, I drop them, and he hisses softly. He reaches out to prick his thumb on the tip of one. His blood wells up, deep scarlet, and the scent of him is enthralling. My mouth waters to taste him, but I won’t ask. He has to offer.

He slides his thumb into my mouth and I suck it eagerly, letting out a soft mewl that makes his eyes flash dangerously before he withdraws. “Do you like that, Gaida? Do you like the taste of my blood?”

“Yes,” I purr.

“Do you want more?”

“If you will allow me to taste you fully, then I want it,” I say carefully, so I don’t take liberties and slam him down onto the bed and attack him.

He lowers the sheet from my breasts so he can see them in all their glory. His breath comes in a soft pant when he circles my nipple with his bloody thumb, leaving a smear around the peak.

“So beautiful. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, Gaida. I can’t explain it.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I do because I need you to understand something about me.” He deliberately and meticulously rolls up the sleeve of his black shirt to expose his muscular forearm. He cups the back of my neck again, pressing the inside of his wrist to my lips. “I want to watch you drink from me.” His voice is hoarse with nerves, lust, and several other emotions I wish Dante were here to help me with.

I kiss his wrist first, tracing the veins with my tongue, savouring the anticipation as much as he seems to. His pulse flutters wildly against my lips.

“Are you sure?” I ask, my fangs grazing his skin without breaking it.

He nods once.

I pierce his skin gently, watching his face as I do. His eyes widen, pupils dilating as I latch on and suckle him softly. The taste of him is exquisite—dark, complex, with notes of lightning and midnight. Pure power flows into me with each swallow. The moan that escapes me is full of desire and something more. Something so much more. Craving, longing, need, desire crash through me, making me wet.

Felix’s free hand tangles in my hair, holding me against his wrist as his breathing grows ragged. I can feel his arousal through our bond, the pleasure-pain of my feeding creating a feedback loop between us.

There’s something so intimate about this moment. His offering is one of trust, vulnerability, things that I know don’t come easily to Felix Davenport. I feel our bond strengthening with each pull, images flashing behind my closed eyes of fragments of his life, his pain, his loneliness. The orphan boy, always different, always apart. The young sorcerer discovering his powers, frightening everyone around him. The man who learned to use his isolation as armour, and… I gasp and pull away, my gaze boring into his.

He stares at me, his chest heaving. His grip on the back of my neck moves to fist my hair tightly, pulling my head back even as he moves closer. “You know,” he murmurs.

“Yes. Felix…”

He stifles the questions I have by pressing his lips to mine, plunging his tongue into my mouth. It’s edged with danger, daring me to take this further, almost begging me to, but I can’t. I can’t knowing what I know. It’s not my choice to take that from him.

With an inner strength I didn’t know I had, I pull back. “This has to be your choice.”

“I’m making that choice,” he croaks.

“You have nothing to prove.”

“Who said I did?” He sits back and stares at me in an unnerving way, like he is stripping my soul. “I feel things for you, Gaida, that I’ve never felt before. Things I need to feel to take this further. I see you with Dante, it’s so easy, so immediate. I can’t…”

“Hey,” I say, kneeling next to him and cupping his face with both hands. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” he says bitterly. “I want you, Gaida. This soul bond has fucked with a lifetime of emotions that I thought I knew. I’m not sure if this is because of that or because of you. I’m sorry. I know how that sounds, but you have to understand?—”

“I do. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I don’t want you to get angry with me for hesitating,” he whispers.

I sit back, hurt but trying to understand. “Angry? Felix, I would never get angry with you for staying true to yourself. If we never take that next step, that’s okay.”

“You’re lying,” he hisses and pulls away from me.

“Am I? Is that what our bond is telling you?” I grab his hand and place it over my heart. He stares at my naked breasts and fists his hand in mine.

“Feel it, Felix. Feel what’s in my heart.”

He closes his eyes, concentrating on the steady beat beneath his hand.

“What I feel for you isn’t dependent on sex or physical intimacy. It’s deeper than that.” I bring my other hand up to cover his. “I want you in my life, in whatever way feels right to you. Soul bond or not, I want you. I knew I wanted you before the soul bond.”

A shudder runs through him. “No one’s ever said that to me before.”

“Because they didn’t understand you. I’m trying to.”

His eyes open, and his vulnerability takes my breath away. “I need to feel an emotional connection before physical attraction makes sense to me.”

“And you’re not sure if what you feel is real or just the bond forcing it?”

He nods, relief washing over his face at being understood.

“Then we take it slow,” I say, squeezing his hand. “We build whatever this is between us at your pace.”

Felix studies me for a long moment, his grey eyes searching mine. Then, with deliberate slowness, he leans forward and presses his lips to mine. This kiss is different—tender, questioning, with none of the desperate hunger from before.

When he pulls back, there’s a new clarity in his expression. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me, Felix. This is your life, your needs and wants. You don’t have to excuse yourself for anyone, especially not me.”

He hesitates, and I think I get it.

“Other girls haven’t understood, have they?”

He shakes his head.

“Well, they are silly bitches and not worthy of you.”

Felix’s laugh is unexpected and wonderful. “You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to call them that.”

“Then why didn’t you?” I slide back under the sheets, removing any temptation.

He lies down beside me, on top of the covers, hands behind his head. “Because it’s easier to let them think I’m a cold, unfeeling bastard.”

“Is that what you want me to think?”

“No.” He turns his head to look at me. “That’s what terrifies me.”

I scoot closer, resting my head against his shoulder. He tenses briefly, then relaxes. “Where’s Luke?” I ask, changing the subject to give him space.

“Taking care of academy business. He’s feeling better.”

“The potion worked?”

“Temporarily. It bought us time to figure out a permanent solution.”

I lift my head to look at him. “Do you know what that solution is that doesn’t require him bonding to me or someone else?”

“No,” he says, sounding annoyed. “I think now that he has a clear mind, you need to talk to him about it.”

“I will.”

“Did you get the runes sketched?” he asks, eager to get away from all this talk about feelings.

“I did. They’re in Luke’s office.”

“We should get on that.”

“Felix?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you definitely not from this world?”

He shakes his head slowly. “No.”

“Are you from Luke’s?”

“Yes.”

“You have a connection to him, don’t you? Something deep.”

“Yes.”

“But you don’t want to talk about it?”

“No.” He smiles. “Not yet.”

“Fair enough.” I climb out of bed. “Come on, we’ll go to Luke’s office and get those sketches and then hit the library.”

He watches me get dressed. “Gaida?”

“Yeah?”

“How will I know when the time is right?”

“You’ll know. Until then, don’t put pressure on it.”

He nods, his expression one of gratitude. It makes me fall head over heels for him in ways that I didn’t think were possible. It’s different to the intensity with Luke and the easy fate with Dante. It’s ours, it’s fragile, and it’s perfect.

We sneak out of Luke’s bedroom and make our way to his office. Felix walks beside me, our hands occasionally brushing but never quite holding. It’s a comfortable silence between us now that the air is cleared of expectations.

Luke’s office is empty when we arrive, the space still carrying the energy of what happened here earlier. I feel my cheeks flush at the memory as I retrieve the sketched runes from his desk.

“These are incredible,” Felix murmurs, taking the paper from me. His fingers trace the symbols with reverence. “The language is ancient, pre-dating even the oldest texts in the academy archives.”

“Can you read any of it?” I ask, peering over his shoulder.

“Not directly, but there are patterns I recognise.” His brow furrows in concentration. “This sequence here appears in some of the oldest dark magick grimoires, but with subtle differences.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means whoever created this sword was working with knowledge that predates our understanding of magick.” His eyes meet mine. “Or they were working with knowledge from another world entirely.”

A chill runs down my spine. “Like Luke’s world? Like yours?”

“Possibly.” He folds the paper carefully and tucks it into his pocket. “We need to get to the library.”

The hallways are quiet as we make our way through the academy. It’s late, and the silence feels forced.

Dante slides in beside me with that sexy smile. “What are we up to?”

“Runes investigating,” I reply, giving him a quick kiss, conscious of Felix’s eyes on us.

“Luke seems better,” Dante says. “Back to his old self.”

“For now. You’ve seen him?”

We push open the library doors, and Felix leads us to the restricted section.

“Yeah. He was teaching Advanced Blood Magick, seeing as Harlow has disappeared.”

“Traiterous bitch. I’m glad he seems okay.”

Felix steps through the wards and then holds his hand up. “You might need to stay there.”

“Why?”

“The wards aren’t that friendly,” Dante chuckles.

“Let me try,” I say confidently and place my hand on the visible ward shimmering in the gloom. It snaps with electricity, and I hiss, but then I feel a warm glow go over me. I turn to see Luke approaching, a soft smile on his face. “Go on, you won’t be fried.”

“Thanks,” I say, stepping through the ward’s barrier confidently. The restricted section stretches before us, shelves upon shelves of ancient texts glowing with faint magickal signatures. Some of the books are chained to their spots, others hover slightly above the shelves, and a few seem to whisper as we pass.

Luke follows us in, his movements fluid and assured in a way they haven’t been for days. The potion has clearly worked wonders, at least temporarily. His eyes meet mine.

“We need to talk. Soon,” I murmur.

“We do.”

“After this?”

He nods and turns away from me.

“What exactly are we looking for?” Dante asks, eyeing the countless volumes with trepidation.

“You lot can look for anything on Mashtar,” Felix replies. “I’m going to start on these runes.”

Felix settles at a large oak table, spreading the paper with the runes in front of him. Several ancient tomes float from the shelves, responding to his silent command, and arrange themselves around him in a semicircle. His fingers move quickly over the pages, his brow furrowed in concentration.

I wander along the shelves, scanning titles. Most are in languages I don’t recognise, their spines etched with ancient symbols. One book catches my eye. Its cover is deep crimson, almost black in the dim light, with silver filigree along the edges.

“Mashtar,” I whisper, my fingers hovering over the spine. The book trembles, then flies into my hand with such force that I stumble backwards.

“Careful,” Luke says, suddenly behind me, his hand steadying my lower back, sending sparks coursing through me. “The books here have minds of their own.”

I nod, clutching the volume to my chest. “This one practically jumped at me.”

“Then it wants you to read it,” Luke murmurs, his lips close to my ear. “Books choose their readers as much as readers choose them in this section.”

He presses me up against the stacks, his solid chest to my back. His hands trail up my outer thighs, drawing my dress up with them. His lips brush over the side of my neck, and I gasp when his fangs prick me.

“Right here where anyone could see us?” I pant.

“I don’t care,” he growls, his hand sliding between my thighs to find me already wet for him. “I want you. Now.”

I clutch the book tighter as his fingers explore me, teasing and circling but never quite giving me what I need. “Luke,” I whimper. “The library is full of students and staff.”

“Then you’d better be quiet, hadn’t you?” His voice is dark with promise as he presses against me.

My fangs drop at the thrill of possibly being caught, of knowing that my other two men are just a few shelves away while the Headmaster of MistHallow has his fingers on my pussy. There’s something wildly erotic about it, something that makes me push back against him wantonly.

“Please,” I whisper, and he rewards me by sliding two fingers deep inside, his thumb circling my clit, making me tremble.

“You’re so responsive,” he murmurs, his free hand coming up to cover my mouth as I start to moan.

His fingers move in a rhythm that drives me mad with need, circling, pushing, retreating, then plunging deeper.

When he suddenly withdraws his fingers, I have to bite my lip to keep from protesting. The sound of his zip makes my heart race. In one smooth motion, he lifts me slightly and slides inside me from behind.

“Shh,” he breathes against my ear as a gasp escapes me. “Someone will hear.”

The thought only makes me wetter. My pussy tightens around him as he moves in slow, deliberate thrusts. Each one drives me against the bookshelf, the ancient tomes trembling in response to our energy.

“You’re mine,” Luke growls softly, his pace increasing as he removes his hand from my mouth. “Say it.”

“Yours,” I whisper, my body on fire.

His hand tightens on my hip, his rhythm faltering for just a moment before he drives deeper.

“Yours,” I repeat, feeling my climax building.

His hand covers my mouth again as I come hard. My entire body shudders as waves of pleasure crash through me. He follows moments later, his body tensing against mine as he buries his face in my neck to muffle his groan of release.

For several long moments, we stay like that, joined together against the bookshelves, both of us breathing hard. The book of Mashtar remains clutched in my hand, vibrating with a strange energy that seems to respond to our intimacy.

“Sorry,” Luke murmurs, though he doesn’t sound sorry at all as he carefully withdraws and helps me straighten my clothes. “I’m not sure what came over me.”

Looking back at him over my shoulder, I frown. “Yeah, that was intense. The book?” I hold it.

“Maybe.”

Despite the possibility of a magick sex book driving people to ravage each other in public places, his eyes gleam with satisfaction as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Let’s see what secrets it holds.” His hand rests on my lower back as we return to the table where Felix and Dante are working.

Felix doesn’t look up when we approach, lost in his own little book world. Dante grins. “What, no invitation to join in this time?”

“Maybe next time. I found something. Or rather, something found me.”

I feel Felix’s stare boring into me, but I ignore it for now. He is clearly surprised to learn that the three of us have been together. I hope it doesn’t make him feel pressured in any way.

“Entrapment,” he blurts out suddenly and then grimaces when all eyes turn on him.

“What?” I ask.

“The runes. They are used for entrapment.”

Luke bends down to examine the book Felix is working from. “Are you saying that someone trapped Mashtar in the sword?”

“Wasn’t that kind of obvious?” Dante asks.

Luke looks up at him. “I mean, yes… but also, no. There could’ve been hundreds of meanings.”

“Did Mashtar trap themself, though, or was it someone else?” I ask, perching on the table near Felix. His hand immediately comes to rest on my calf out of sight, and I smile.

“Good question,” Felix muses, running his fingers over the runes again. “These symbols suggest a binding ritual that would require tremendous power—power that few beings possess.”

I place the crimson book on the table, and it falls open of its own accord. The pages flutter wildly before settling on an illustration that makes my breath catch. A figure wreathed in darkness holds a familiar sword aloft, darkness pouring from the blade into a swirling vortex.

“That’s it,” I whisper. “That’s the sword.”

Luke leans over my shoulder, his presence still making me tingle after our encounter among the stacks. “The Blood Sword of Mashtar,” he reads, his finger tracing the ancient script beneath the illustration. “Forged in the space between worlds, tempered with the blood of a thousand sacrifices.”

“Cheerful,” Dante mutters, peering at the page.

Felix shifts closer, his fingers still resting on my calf as he examines the text. “According to this, Mashtar wasn’t trapped by someone else. He bound himself to the sword voluntarily.”

“Why would anyone do that?” I ask.

Luke’s expression darkens. “Immortality. A different kind than what vampires achieve.”

“Living consciousness within an object,” Felix adds, his voice tight with concentration. “Existing outside of time, beyond the reach of death.”

Dante drums his fingers on the table. “So you’ve been carrying around some ancient megalomaniac trapped in a sword?” His gaze meets mine. “And he wants to use you for something.”

I run my finger over the illustration, tracing the outline of the sword. “But he hasn’t tried to possess me or anything.”

“Maybe he’s waiting for something specific,” Luke suggests, his expression thoughtful. “A particular moment or condition.”

“The sword chose you,” Felix says, his voice low and intense. “Out of everyone in the world, it revealed itself to you. That can’t be a coincidence.”

Luke’s eyes narrow. “There’s more to this than we’re seeing.”

I flip through more pages of the crimson book, stopping when another illustration catches my eye. A woman with long, dark hair stands at the centre of a ritual circle, the sword held aloft. Blood drips from her palms onto the glowing blade.

“The Awakening Ritual,” Luke translates, his voice grim. “When the Blood Queen offers herself willingly, Mashtar shall walk again.”

“Well, that’s not happening,” I state firmly. “I’m not offering myself to anyone.”

Felix’s hand tightens on my calf. “There’s something else here. The book mentions a companion piece to the sword.” He leans closer to the text, his brow furrowed. “A chalice.”

“A chalice?” I look around at their faces. “Like a cup?”

“Not just any cup,” Luke murmurs, taking the book from me. His fingers trace the words as he translates. “The Chalice of Draken, forged from the same materials as the sword, by the same hand.”

“Draken.” Dante’s head snaps up. “Now there’s a name we recognise.”

“According to this,” Luke continues, his voice growing more concerned, “the sword and chalice were created as a pair. One to trap, one to release.”

A chill runs down my spine. “So if someone wants to fully release Mashtar from the sword...”

“They’d need the chalice,” Felix finishes, his grey eyes meeting mine. “And the Blood Queen.”

“The blood of the Blood Queen,” Luke says grimly, his finger moving down the page. “The sword chooses a bearer when it senses the potential for great power or change. It seeks out those with royal blood, particularly those at crossroads of destiny.”

“Royal blood?” I repeat, my voice rising with disbelief. “I’m not royalty.”

Luke gives me a measured look. “The Aragons are one of the oldest pureblood families in existence. In vampire society, that’s as close to royalty as it gets.”

“But why now?” Dante asks. “Why Gaida specifically?”

Felix’s hand tightens slightly on my calf. “Because something’s coming. Something that requires Mashtar’s power to be wielded again.”

I stare down at the illustration, the dark figure with the raised sword suddenly seeming more ominous. “So what does Mashtar want? What’s his endgame?”

“According to this,” Luke says, turning to the next page, “Mashtar was a being of immense power who existed before the separation of the worlds. When the dimensions split, he found himself trapped between them, unable to fully exist in any single reality.”

“So he bound himself to the sword to maintain his existence,” Felix concludes.

“And to find a way back to full corporeal form,” Luke adds grimly.

“Well, that’s not happening,” I say firmly, standing up from the table. “I’m not letting some ancient being use me as a doorway to this world.”

Felix rises beside me, his hand moving to the small of my back in a gesture that feels both protective and possessive. “There’s more to this. The ritual requires the chalice, and as far as we know, no one has that.”

“Yet,” Dante adds darkly. “If someone knows about the sword, they likely know about the chalice too.”

Luke closes the book carefully. “We need to find out who else knows about Mashtar and what their intentions might be.”

“Is that why Constantine could touch it?” I ask with a frown. “Because it essentially exists outside of the worlds, and he is the most powerful creature… no, wait, vampire , in all the realms?”

“What makes you say that?” Luke asks, eyes narrowed.

“You said he is nearly three thousand years old. That’s fucking old. If he is like the top vampire in his world, it kind of makes sense in a really arrogant way that I’m sorry I have to say, but it’s sitting there waiting to be said.”

“What is?” Dante asks, sounding almost fearful.

Luke catches on quickly, though. “She means that she is the most powerful vampire here on this earth. Mashtar isn’t being fussy. Any world will do to join them back together.”

“Fuck,” I gulp when that possibility hadn’t registered with me. But, yeah. Fuck.