Page 115 of Bonds of Starfall

She tried to cry out, but her lips wouldn’t work. Sweat beaded on her temples, dripping down her face—not from the heat of the flames, but from the overworked, sluggish pound of the Nova-infected organ in her chest.

She felt every grumble of Valkar’s words as he said, "Because I’m her Soulbond."

Rin’s limbs went slack, and she passed out in the leader of Noctis’s arms.

Cyrus watchedwith fear gripping him as Vesperin’s eyelids fluttered in the vampire’s arms, her limbs going slack as the flames tightened around her, keeping her upright even though she wasn’t conscious.

The manacles around his wrists cut into his flesh, and the flames circling him made sweat pour down his spine. He didn’t stop trying to get to her.

"Let me go! Ves!" The incubus’s eyes were wild, a red glimmer sparking in the air as he tried to feed on Valkar, but it was no use—the vampire’s shields were impenetrable. Cyrus had never seen anything like it, except for his own father, who was nearing a thousand years old.

Fuck, Cyrus should’ve withered this bastard when he had the chance in the motel. But something had held him back. If only he hadn’t been so naive.

Valkar’s flames kept Vesperin upright, and the vampire pressed a finger under her jaw, feeling for her pulse. That drew Cyrus’s attention to the blood on her neck, and the two purpling bruises on the side—fucking bite marks. Damn this bastard. He had bitten her!

Her shirt was coated in blood, but Cyrus’s sense of smell picked up on the fact that it didn’t belong to her—the blood on her neck did, though.

The vampire’s eyes grew wide, and Cyrus heard it, too—the pulsing drone of her heart.

"Let me go," Cyrus begged the vampire. "She’s going to die." A sob clawed its way out of his chest. Please, not this way. Not now. He had just gotten her back.

Something in his expression or words seemed to have gotten through to the vampire, for Valkar’s eyes narrowed with resolve, and the flames encircling Cyrus died instantly, black smoke fizzling in the air. He lifted Vesperin, carrying her far too delicately with one arm, her nose pressed into his neck, legs draped over his hips.

Cyrus snarled as the vampire walked closer, unable to tear his eyes away from his Soulbond in this monster’s arms.

Her skin was already pale, but now it was a deathly white shade. She was utterly limp.

Time seemed to slow as Valkar snapped his fingers before Cyrus, drawing his attention, and said, "Don’t make me regret this, incubus." And he fit a key into the manacles at his wrists, releasing him.

Cyrus pounced instantly, but not for Valkar; he reached for the girl in his arms, ripping her away from the vampire and holding her against him. He retreated until his back hit the wall, hair in his eyes as he hissed, "Don’t come near us."

Valkar placed a hand in his pocket, acting nonchalant, but his eyes were as wild as Cyrus felt. "What’s wrong with her?" The vampire’s tone was deadly.

Vesperin moaned weakly against Cyrus’s chest, and his eyes darted from the vampire back down to her, torn. "She’s going to die. Please, you have to—did you get her bag?" He suddenly remembered her medicine. Please, let this work. God.

"What are you?—"

"Her goddamned bag! Did you get it from the motel?" Cyrus demanded.

Her heart kicked up again, pounding dangerously fast—then, just as suddenly, it turned sluggish.

Rhyden stared at Vesperin, then, before Cyrus could curse him out or beg on his knees, the vampire disappeared in a flashof darkness. Cyrus blinked, staring at the space Valkar had just been.

His hands tightened on Vesperin. Should he leave? Should he chance it?

Cyrus took one step forward, and Valkar returned as swiftly as he came. But this time, a familiar bag was in his hands—Vesperin’s.

The relief Cyrus felt was so sudden, his knees grew weak, and he sat on the concrete, lying Vesperin down carefully, her head on his lap.

Valkar stood on her other side, fingers tight on the bag’s strap.

Cyrus stared up at the vampire. "Please?"

Valkar released a rough breath, the bag dropping on the ground. Cyrus fumbled for the zipper and dug inside. His hands shook so badly he nearly dropped the pill bottle. He wasn’t supposed to tremble like this—he was supposed to be strong for her. But he couldn’t lose her.

White pills spilled on the ground in a clatter—a splintering crack in the terse silence, like the sound of hope slipping through his fingers. He gripped Vesperin’s chin as he gently opened her mouth and placed a pill on her tongue, pinching her lips together.

How did he get her to swallow without choking?