Page 11 of Heal Me (Immortal Vices and Virtues: All Hallows’ Eve #5)

Penny

T he wards parted for me like they always did, a soft ripple of power brushing my skin as Gideon carried me to the edge of the threshold and into the kitchen.

The whole pack seemed to be waiting for me, Knox especially.

Gideon paused, then placed me into my brother’s arms. Knox gathered me close without a word, steady and solid, his glare promising retribution.

For a heartbeat I thought he would argue, stake some claim I wasn’t ready to surrender.

But instead, he stepped back, the loss of his touch leaving me cold.

His gaze lifted to Styx where she stood in the doorway.

She gave the smallest of nods, sharp as one of the blades she carried.

Gideon inclined his head once in return—then turned and disappeared into the night.

If there were any wolves left from that fight, they wouldn’t be breathing for long.

My body still ached, phantom wounds prickling where claws had torn. My scar throbbed as if Gideon’s fangs were still at my throat. My wolf stretched, smug and satisfied.

You begged for it , she purred. Not just his kiss. His fight.

“I didn’t,” I whispered, pulling Gideon’s jacket tighter around my shoulders.

“What?” Knox murmured, skirting around Jude and Aster, heading for the stairs.

I shook my head, waving off his question. “I can walk, you know. Put me down.”

Knox huffed a mirthless laugh as he set me on my feet. “Tell that to your vampire. Want to tell me what happened?”

Did I?

Absolutely fucking not. I was pretty sure I’d rather swan dive into a volcano than open up to Knox about whatever the fuck that was. Especially when I didn’t know myself.

“Not particularly. Maybe Styx can fill you in. I plan on drowning myself in the shower and praying this was all a bad dream.”

His chest rumbled with a very un-bird-like growl, but he let me turn tail and race up the stairs without comment.

Run all you want , my wolf hummed. But he’s still ours.

I wanted to live in denial, but my dress was long gone, proof of what we’d done.

My hands still remembered the heat of his chest, the rough line of muscle under my palms. My lips remembered his kiss.

My blood remembered the way it sang when his fangs touched my skin.

His taste lingered in my mouth, his blood singing in my veins.

But more, I remembered him standing over me, my dagger in his hand, tearing through enemies like I was worth protecting.

The wards of my room kissed my skin, and I snagged the blanket from my bed, wrapping it around myself as I sank to the rug.

The contradictions tore at me—shame, hunger, the furious need for more.

I wanted to scrub myself raw until I forgot him.

I wanted to run back into the woods and bury myself in his scent until the bond stopped screaming.

And worst of all?

I wanted to know if he was safe. If he’d been hurt like I’d been. If…

He’s ours , my wolf hummed, utterly unbothered. You felt it in the fight.

“No,” I hissed into the blanket. “He’s not.”

I rocked where I sat, blanket tight around me, as if it could shield me from my own treacherous skin that still smelled of him.

If I closed my eyes, I’d see him—smile sharp as a knife, patience woven through every touch, every kiss.

The thought of walking away from him made something tear at my ribs. Made me wonder if I even could.

My scar burned like a brand. My wolf purred like she’d won. And I hated myself for wanting her to be right.

That was when the door creaked open, and Styx stepped inside.

“I figured I’d find you in a puddle,” she murmured, her voice cool as steel, but her eyes were softer than her words. She closed the door with a soft click and leaned against it, arms crossed. “Tell me, Penny—did the world end, or did you just finally find someone worth the trouble?”

I flinched, burying deeper into the blanket as I fought off the urge to flip her off. “Shouldn’t you be asking me what happened? Why I’m covered in blood?”

She raised a single eyebrow like I’d just disappointed her. “If giving you the illusion I don’t already know makes you feel better, I can. But then we’d both be lying.”

Helpless to resist, I sniffed at the lapel of his jacket, praying she didn’t notice. “None of this was supposed to happen.”

Not the ball, not the bonding, not the fight, not…

“Supposed to.” Styx’s lips curved. It wasn’t quite a smile, but for her it may as well have been a full-on shit-eating grin.

“Those words are a bullshit cage, and you’re the one holding the key to your own fucking cell.

Trust me, I know. You think Vaelora dragged you into that closet and forced your tongue into his mouth? ”

Sometimes I wished Styx wasn’t so full of god powers she could see every damn thing I did before I did it. But right then? I would have preferred melting into the floorboards and dying on the spot.

“No, my sweet girl. You leapt. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“No, the house locked us in. I didn’t?—”

“You did .” She pushed off the door, her steps unhurried, deliberate. “And before you strangle yourself with guilt or recriminations, let me remind you: the magic doesn’t choose wrong . It doesn’t shove Fate down your throat. It just opens a door. You walked through it.”

I shook my head hard enough to sting. “He’s dangerous. He’ll use me, destroy me.”

“ Or ,” Styx crouched so her gaze caught mine, sharp as a razor’s edge, “he’ll fight tooth and nail for you. He’ll bury bodies for you. He’ll worship the ground you walk on while giving you back all the pieces of yourself you thought were gone forever. It’s up to you which story you write.”

I pulled the blanket tighter, shaking my head until my hair curtained my face. “You don’t understand. He’s a vampire. He’s… I can’t —” My argument was feeble at best. “I can’t want that.”

Styx’s brows lifted, slow and deliberate, like she was giving me the chance to hear how absurd I sounded. “Can’t? Or don’t want to admit you already do?”

Heat flooded my face. I wanted to deny it, to spit the word “ never” and mean it. But my wolf prowled under my skin, humming with satisfaction, and the bond still pulsed like a drumbeat in my veins.

Styx saw it all, anyway. She always did.

“You think wanting him makes you weak,” she said, voice low but steady. “But what I see? You held your ground against him, even when your body was screaming for you to fold. You didn’t break, Penny. You chose. That’s strength, not shame.”

I glared at her through wet lashes. “Then why does it feel like I already lost?”

Styx’s smile was quick and cutting. “Because you’re still fighting yourself harder than you’re fighting him. And until you stop, you’ll keep losing to the wrong damn enemy.”

Styx moved in front of me, one hand braced on her knee, the other tugging the blanket down just enough so I had to meet her eyes.

“Penny.” Styx’s voice cut through the storm in my head, even and immovable.

“What happened tonight? That wasn’t Vaelora’s magic playing games.

She can tilt the board, but she can’t change what pieces are on it. ”

My breath hitched. “So you’re saying?—”

“I’m saying you already knew.” Styx’s eyes pinned me. “The apothecary. The way you felt him before you even had his name. That wasn’t Vaelora weaving threads. That was your bond burning from the start.”

I shook my head hard, but the protest tasted like a lie. “I didn’t want it.”

“No,” Styx said simply. “But wanting has nothing to do with truth. And the truth is, he’s yours. You’re his. Everything else is just how long you’re going to fight yourself about it.”

Styx crouched until we were eye level, her expression sharper than any blade she carried. “You think I wanted this?” she asked quietly. “After my family was slaughtered, the last thing I ever wanted was to be tied to someone else. To feel like my heart could be ripped out twice.”

I blinked at her, throat tight.

“But Corvin wasn’t something I asked for. He was something that simply was. ” Her voice stayed steady, but I heard the steel underneath. “And fighting my love for him didn’t save me— it just dragged out the misery. I could’ve spent forever telling myself I didn’t want him, but Fate didn’t care.”

Her hand brushed the edge of the blanket, not quite touching me, but anchoring all the same. “So you can waste your strength hating it, or you can decide what to do with it. That’s your choice. Not mine. Not Gideon’s. Yours.”

Her words landed sharp and clean, no room to wriggle free.

I swallowed hard, throat raw. “You make it sound so simple.”

“Life and love are never simple.” Styx’s fingers brushed the thin metal sticks that always adorned her hair. “And you’ve already chosen, Penny. You sealed the bond. You can spend the rest of your life pretending you didn’t, but your wolf knows better.”

I clutched the blanket tighter, too small against the weight of her certainty. “And if I’m not ready?”

Her gaze softened for a fraction of a second, a flash of the girl she used to be before all the knives and the blood. Then it was gone.

“Then you take your time,” she said gently. “But don’t lie to yourself and say you didn’t choose him.” Her hand brushed over my blanket-wrapped shoulder, grounding without pressing. “You don’t have to like it yet. You just have to live with it until you do.”

Her hand lingered on my shoulder for a breath, then fell away. Styx straightened, her dark eyes unreadable, and turned for the door. She didn’t offer comfort I couldn’t take. Didn’t try to fix what only I could untangle.

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving the room too quiet.

I pulled the blanket tighter and pressed my forehead to my knees, my wolf humming in satisfaction beneath my skin. My heart was still clawing itself raw between want and terror, and now I had no one left to argue with but myself.

The silence pressed in as soon as the door closed.

I buried my face in my hands, trying to hold the two halves of me together—wolf and woman, hunger and shame. My wolf purred under my skin, satisfied and certain, while I whispered lies to myself.

You didn’t choose him. You didn’t want this.

But I had. Every part of me had.

The bond burned like a brand and a balm, seared into me the moment his fangs slid home. I couldn’t tear it out without tearing myself in half. And worse—a large part of me didn’t want to.

I remembered his eyes across the lawn, the way he’d held my gaze without flinching, without pity. The way he’d made sure I got home safe when he could have walked away. He hadn’t pressed. He hadn’t taken.

He was nothing like the men who had hurt me. Nothing like the parents who had given me away as if my life were a debt to be settled.

In his arms, for one wild, impossible moment, I hadn’t felt broken.

I’d felt safe. Warm. Free.

And for the first time in years, I wanted more of that.

Ours, my wolf whispered, curling close.

This time, I didn’t argue.