Page 113 of Bonds of Starfall

Under his helmet, his headset buzzed, and he reached up with a hand clad in dark, leather fingerless gloves, pressing his index finger to the side of the helmet to take the call.

"What?" Rhyden snapped, the tinted visor of his helmet casting the approaching sight of his base in a shroud of darkness. The warehouse he called his home was large and flat, with thick trees growing close to the dark concrete walls, concealing it from anyone who dared to venture this far into the Rogue-infested territory of Nullwood.

Daryk’s staticky voice came through. "She’s awake, and she’s left the room. Boss, I think you should get back soon."

"Fuck," Rhyden cursed. "Alright, I’m pulling in now." He ended the call with a press of a button, the sheer concern inDaryk’s voice propelling him onward. He revved the engine, flying past the gates, which had already opened in preparation for his arrival.

They slammed closed with a metallic clang, the electric currents firing up in a spray of blue sparks, there to keep the Rogues away.

The sensors picked up on his Stella levels and unique energy signature, reading him from a distance, and allowing the underground garage to open with a soft hiss of air. The tires squealed as he braked hard, not even engaging the kickstand as he got off and ran for the door that led inside.

The darkness in the plain halls was broken up by the orange glow of candlelight, but his vampiric eyes could see even through the thickest of shadows.

His boots thudded against the stone floors, turning into thicker carpet as he entered the wing in which his bedroom lay.

There, he saw her.

A small form wavering, covered in blood. Her skin was so pale that he froze.

Had Rhyden… Had he underestimated how much he drank?

Her eyes were half-lidded as he ran straight for her, and she made a soft sound of protest as they collided.

His hands steadied her, and she was as light as a feather against him.

"Rhyden?" she breathed, falling into his chest, hands weak as they curled into his leather jacket.

Her chin brushed against him as she looked up. She grew rigid, trying to back away, but he wouldn’t let her, hands tightening on her.

Her grey eyes were filled with fear and clouded with blood loss.

Oh. He still had his helmet on. He hadn’t taken it off in his haste to get to her.

Rhyden tugged it off with one hand, his white hair messy, red eyes wild as he stared down at her. Her neck bore only a trace of her own blood—the rest came from him, from the goddamn hairpin.

Her heart was a sluggish drone in her chest; he felt it against his own, heard it with his keen senses.

The leather of his gloves creaked as his hands spanned her shoulders, keeping her tight against him. "Vesperin…" The guttural sound of her name tugged from deep inside him, unbidden. A call to their life, the brief happiness they had found among opulence.

"Take me to Cyrus," she demanded, blinking fast as if to clear her vision. "Now."

Her demand solidified his fears. "Why should I?"

"Because if you don’t, I might die."

Rin could barely see straight,let alone think straight. Maybe that was why she said those words to Valkar, her eyes imploring him as she held onto him for dear life.

Everything was spinning. The walls, her limbs, the carpet under her bare feet.

She pressed her nose to his chest. "You smell nice. Like peppermint."

His hands stilled against her shoulders, and she felt his sharp intake of air from how closely she was pressed against him.

"Too… bad you want to kill me," Rin added.

He huffed a dark laugh. "I don’t want to kill you, wife. Just some revenge." His voice grew harsh. "Why do you think you’ll die if you don’t see the incubus? Is this another trick?"

Rin didn’t respond. Because she couldn’t really think of anything coherent to say.