Page 102 of Bonds of Starfall

Through the smoke, Rhyden watched as Vesperin stumbled into the incubus—he held her against his chest as they both fell to their knees. Her lids fluttered as she stared up at him, and the pair toppled to the side, out cold.

Rhyden stareddown at Vesperin as she lay on the seat of his car, her head pillowed in his lap. Black silken ties wrapped around her wrists, keeping them pulled in front, immobilized. Even angry at her, the vampire couldn’t stomach leaving the red marks of a harsh zip tie on her skin—the incubus wasn’t so fucking lucky. Rhyden had hogtied him and thrown him in the trunk.

He didn’t know the incubus’s significance to his Soulbond—at the very least, he was a witness; at worst, her lover.

Miro took his motorcycle back to the base, while Daryk drove the car. Through the black tinted windows, Rhyden watched as the immoral, corrupt nightlife raged on unchecked. Humans and other creatures alike stumbled down the streets, hopping from club to club, utterly uncaring that a Rogue could pounce in an instant and turn the reveling rage into a goddamn bloodbath.

But that was part of the appeal, he supposed. The thrill of it all was knowing it could turn violent and deadly in a second—that everything could be ripped away, like a curtain yanked from its hooks, revealing the bloody truth of their world.

Rhyden sighed, long and deep. Vesperin’s small breaths warmed his thigh, from where her face was pressed close to his crotch, her nose nearly brushing against him. Well, fuck. That sure as hell didn’t help.

He couldn’t stop staring at her, thinking all of this was some dream he would wake up from. Maybe he was still dreaming. Maybe he was still trapped behind those fucking bars made of blue light, flickering electricity that sparked and fizzled in the air, making his hair stand on end whenever he’d get too close, tempting fate.

Rhyden skimmed the tip of his finger over Vesperin’s forehead, teasing strands of her white hair. Her face was less soft than he remembered, yet with her resting against him, he could almost trick himself into thinking she was the same girl. The same stupid human he had given up everything for…

It started with a whisper of loneliness and a drink in a bar.

The red-dappled sun of the vampiric planet Sangreal flickered above, its fiery prominences stretching outward, burning thick and hot, drenching the entire planet in a perpetual summertime heat.

It was all Rhyden had ever known. As one of the lesser-known nobles on the planet, he wasn’t short of money, and two hundred years old, he’d had time to burn, and more still to let flicker away like the embers of a fire.

To an immortal, time started to lose importance after a while. It no longer became what you could do, but what could be done for you—how much you could accumulate. People, homes, money, jewels.

But all Rhyden wanted was someone. Hell, he would settle at this rate—he didn’t need his Soulbond, or so he told himself.

But when years passed and he was still alone, he grew desperate. Lovelorn for someone he had never met.

So, one unusual evening, donned in the finest of clothing—pearls set into his collar, imported from Luxia—Rhyden sat at a bar, swirling a glass of blood mixed with a fine nectar mined from the trees closer to the mountain regions on Sangreal. Theice clinked against the side of the cup. He drank, but he barely tasted the flavor.

Even blood had lost its luster.

It was at that moment, the lip of the glass poised on his lips, scraping against his fangs, that he saw her.

She swept into the bar like a whirlwind. All eyes were on her. Even his.

With her brown hair swept away from her face, revealing soft cheekbones dusted with pink, and lips rouged a deep scarlet, he felt a stirring deep in his gut at that very moment. And when the whole bar had grown quiet, watching the human venture deeper into a den of vampires, Rhyden held his breath. She sidled up beside him, sitting on the stool next to him, even though there were empty seats a few chairs down.

"A glass of briux. On the rocks," the enchantress said, her voice like silk. Soft, yet underlined with husky notes. It fit her perfectly.

The bartender made her drink, a dark amber liquid poured in a thin stream over a short glass beveled with flowers, then he slid it over the dark countertop.

As her small hands wrapped around the glass and she tipped her head back to take a delicate sip, not one ounce of strain on her face at the bitter bite of briux—a thick, potent liquor—Rhyden had been ensnared.

At that moment, he would do anything to add her to the list of his possessions.

"I never knew someone so beautiful would drink something so bitter," Rhyden drawled, swirling his blood-filled glass.

She eyed him as she drank, mumbling around the lip, "Most bitter things just need to be viewed in a different light." She set the glass down, her finger dancing along the rim. "It’s not bitter, just requires a certain… taste."

"And you have this taste?" Rhyden couldn’t help but ask.

"Sometimes," she said, almost sadly, as she stared at the glass. "Sometimes I prefer the sweeter things. It’s a matter of perspective."

Rhyden didn’t take his eyes off her as he raised a hand to the bartender, calling, "A shot of something sweet. No blood." He smiled, letting his fangs flash.

The little enchantress huffed a laugh, reaching up to tuck a lock of hair that escaped from her pins behind her ear. His eyes dipped. He dimly noticed faint redness along her wrist, but shrugged it off.

As the bartender slid a tiny shot of cream-colored liquor, topped with a split cherry, imported straight from Earth, Rhyden fit his finger against the side and slid it nearer to her. It left a wet trail of condensation over the bartop.