Page 24

Chapter Twenty-One

I wake to nothingness.

No hunger.

No thirst.

No emotional residue from dreams.

I just lie in a perfect stillness, as if my body has finally accepted that it has become a vessel for power rather than humanity.

If my heart weren’t beating, I’d think I was dead.

It’s been like this for days, and each dusk when I open my eyes, it feels worse.

Or better, I guess, depending on how you look at it.

There’s comfort in not having to feel everything.

Humans are full of emotions and doubt, worry and stress.

It’s an endless mess.

I tell myself there is still a human part of me, but I don’t think that’s true anymore.

The werewolf, vampire, and magic have crowded the human into a tiny space at the tip of my pinkie.

I could cut it off and barely notice it was missing.

I lift my hand in the dark and trace my fingers with my eyes.

I bend the pinkie down to consider it.

Costin’s sanctuary is a modernist fortress hidden in plain sight.

I honestly would never have guessed this was his.

The penthouse apartment is in a building he owns, warded so heavily that even I can see the protective magic shimmering along the walls.

The floor-to-ceiling windows are covered with blackout shades to make it safe for vampires.

I live an existence suspended between dusk and dawn.

We don’t go out.

I’m not sure if we’re hiding from Elizabeth, or Costin is keeping me from the outside world.

I hear the shades gliding upward, marking that it’s safe to go out.

I slide from the silk sheets, leaving Costin still resting beside me.

Even in sleep, he seems troubled, his brow furrowed as if he’s fighting battles in his dreams.

I know I’m the cause of his worry, but I can’t seem to summon the appropriate concern.

Maybe life has finally won.

It’s beaten all the emotion out of me.

I’ve cracked.

I should care more.

It’s kind of nice not giving a shit though.

My silk nightgown caresses my skin.

I’ll give my vampire lover one thing.

He doesn’t skimp on the details.

He lives in rich comfort.

I feel like a duchess.

I’d say queen, but that reminds me of Leviathan and his plan for me.

The marble floor feels pleasant beneath my bare feet as I move to the center of the spacious bedroom.

It took me a moment to realize why certain creatures lean toward so much marble.

The cleaning up.

It’s hard to get blood out of carpet.

I don’t want to kill anyone, but I suppose if I had to, I’d try to find a bad person.

Someone the world would be better without.

I close my eyes, reaching for the power that now lives inside me like a constant companion.

It responds instantly, a cold current flowing through my veins.

I focus on a heavy crystal sculpture on the dresser.

The abstract piece must weigh twenty pounds.

In the crypt, moving small stones required intense concentration.

Now, the sculpture lifts effortlessly, hovering six feet off the ground with just a thought.

I’m getting better at this.

I add the lamp.

Then a book.

Then the chair.

Soon, a dozen objects orbit around me in a perfect celestial dance, requiring no more effort than breathing once did.

The power hums through me, clean and precise, demanding nothing but my direction.

“Impressive.”

Costin’s voice doesn’t startle me.

I sensed him waking, felt his eyes on me before he spoke.

I don’t turn as he approaches, keeping the objects suspended with minimal concentration.

“It’s getting easier,” I say, my voice neutral.

“Stronger.”

“And how do you feel?” He steps into my field of vision, his expression carefully composed.

He’s wearing only sleep pants, his chest bare, hair tousled.

He looks vulnerable.

The sight should stir something in me, desire, tenderness, love.

I remember feeling those things for him, but now they seem distant, like memories from someone else’s life.

“Efficient,” I answer honestly.

Something flickers across his face.

Concern?

Or perhaps disappointment?

I gently lower the objects back to their places and turn to face him fully.

“You’re worried about me,” I state rather than ask.

I feel it through our bond.

“Should I be?” His eyes search mine, looking for something I’m not sure is still there.

I consider lying, telling him what he wants to hear.

But what would be the point?

“I’m changing,” I admit.

“The power is changing me. Hollowing me out.”

He reaches for me, his hand cool against my cheek.

“Tamara?—”

“Don’t.” I step back, not wanting his touch to cloud my thoughts.

“I need to understand what’s happening to me.”

“I know what’s happening,” he says quietly.

“I’ve seen it before. When a vampire first turns, there’s often a period of emotional detachment. It’s the mind’s way of processing the transformation. But this is different. More extreme.”

“Because I’m not just a vampire,” I finish for him.

“I’m something else entirely.”

A monster.

A freak.

A hybrid.

Call it what you want.

I move to the window, looking out at the city below.

My vision zooms in on them.

People scurry along the sidewalks, going about their mortal lives, unaware of the supernatural dramas unfolding around them.

I used to be one of them.

Now I can barely remember what it felt like.

“I reached out to Sully for alliance against Elizabeth and Mortimer,” he says.

I nod.

“He’s coming tonight,” Costin continues.

“He asked how you were doing after the crypt.”

This is Costin’s newest way of bringing the subject up.

He’s tried several times.

“I told you that, when I was in the crypt and Conrad’s spirit was freed along with all the others that Leviathan had trapped, some of their power transferred to me.” I touch the window, tracing a distant building.

“But it’s not just the telekinesis. There is something else that’s colder. I don’t know what it is. There’s no way to know who or what Leviathan was storing in the crypt. Spirits? Energy? Curses? Whatever it was, it changed me. Maybe I absorbed nothing. Maybe I absorbed everything.”

Costin is careful not to touch me again.

“Do you think it was necromantic energy? Death magic is known to dull emotions. Cold like the grave.”

I study his face.

“You’re afraid I’m becoming like Elizabeth.”

His expression tells me I’ve hit the mark.

He blames himself for his sister.

Just as he blames himself for me.

“I’m not,” I assure him, though I’m not entirely convinced myself.

“I just need to find balance again. I need to understand all the supernatural parts.”

“Let me help you.” This time when he reaches for me, I don’t pull away.

His hands frame my face, and I feel the sire bond between us pulse with something warm and alive.

I feel his love for me.

“Remember what it feels like to be connected.”

His lips find mine.

They start gentle but then become more insistent.

I respond mechanically at first, but then a flicker of the passion we once shared stirs within me.

My nerve endings fire after being numb for too long.

The kiss sharpens.

His fangs cut into my lip, so I bite him back.

The coppery taste of him hits my bloodstream like fire.

Blood flavors our mouths, and suddenly I remember how much I need him.

No, how much I crave him.

His growl vibrates through both our chests, and the bond between us tightens.

I grasp at the feeling, wanting the warmth, needing our connection.

I push Costin back against the wall.

My strength matches his now.

He hits with a dull thud, and I’m on him before he can move.

I pin him with my hips.

The impact sends a picture frame clattering to the floor.

His fingers dig into my ass as he pulls me tighter.

Claws rip through all barriers until we’re naked.

There’s nothing soft about the way we come together, not the way he touches me, not the way I take it.

We’re past tenderness.

He grins into the kiss, and I realize we’re straddling the line between power and intimacy.

My hybrid instincts roar that I need to dominate, consume, take.

But underneath it, there’s still me.

Still us.

I urgently explore his body, not just for physical release but for emotional resurrection.

His skin is cool, yet his touch melts the ice inside me.

I rock my hips against him.

The pressure builds.

The pleasure is too fast, too much.

It threatens to undo me.

My hands tremble as I drag my fingers over the hard lines of his chest, down his ribs, needing to memorize the realness of him.

His body responds before his mouth does.

Muscles contract under my palms.

A low sound escapes him, vibrating against my throat.

I roll my hips in invitation.

Costin pulls me tighter.

My fangs graze his throat.

I don’t bite, but I feel the flutter of his pulse beneath the skin.

He tilts his head, offering his throat, daring me.

I drag my tongue along the artery instead.

It’s more temptation than I can resist.

I clamp my mouth on his throat and drink.

When we come together, it’s fierce and primal.

It’s not the violence of our early encounters, but a desperate search for humanity in each other’s arms.

When I sink down onto him, we move like we’re made for this.

For each other .

His hands are on my hips, my nails drag down his chest.

For a brief, reckless moment, as pleasure crests and breaks over us both, I can feel everything I’ve been missing.

Love, fear, hope, despair, it all rushes back in a tidal wave of sensation.

A cry rips out of me, raw and unfiltered, as magic sparks beneath my skin.

The violence of it makes me feel alive.

My orgasm tears through me like I’ve been struck by lightning.

My body arches against his, chasing every last flicker of sensation until I collapse into him, wrecked and finally awake.

We cling to each other.

For those seconds, I’m not broken.

I’m not magic.

I’m not a Devine.

I’m just his .

Then, slowly, the cold clarity returns, though not quite as absolute as before.

“Did that help?” Costin asks as we lie tangled naked together on the floor, his fingers tracing patterns on my skin as scraps of silk surround us.

“A little,” I admit, resting my head on his chest.

“It’s like waking up briefly from a dream, only to slip back under.”

“We’ll find a way,” he promises, pressing his lips to my forehead.

“Whatever’s happening to you, we’ll figure it out together.”

I want to believe him.

Part of me still does.

But the growing power inside me whispers that some battles can only be fought alone.

“The full moon rises tomorrow night,” Sully says, his massive frame making Costin’s living room furniture look oddly undersized.

“Your first transformation will be intense, but the pack will be at our strongest.”

Already?

I look at the window.

How long have we been in hiding?

The days all blend together.

Anthony snorts from his position by the window.

“Understatement of the century.”

We’ve gathered for what can only be described as a war council.

Astrid sits primly on a leather armchair, looking as composed as ever despite the events of the past.

My father stands behind her, his hand resting on the back of her chair.

Even now, he looms like a man still playing the part of devoted father and husband.

In my cold assessment of him, I see the truth.

I find him pathetic and weak.

He traded our safety for his pride long ago.

All he cares about is his own narcissistic vices.

Why is he even here?

Anthony keeps watch by the window, though what threat he expects to spot from thirty stories up is beyond me.

My brother succeeded in getting Paul to safety before Elizabeth grabbed him.

At least one thing went right, even if I don’t feel the relief I should.

Costin leans against the wall nearest me, giving me space while staying close.

And then there’s Sully, Alpha of the werewolves, who arrived an hour ago.

“I need to know if you can control it,” Sully continues, his golden eyes fixed on me.

“A hybrid’s first full moon is uncharted territory. If you lose control in the middle of battle...”

“I won’t,” I say with a confidence I don’t entirely feel.

The cold logic inside me calculates the odds of maintaining control during my first transformation.

It’s not favorable, but not impossible either.

“You can’t know that,” Astrid interjects.

Her voice is gentle but firm.

“No one can. Which is why I suggest we delay confronting Elizabeth until after the full moon has passed.”

“We may not have that luxury,” Costin counters.

“Elizabeth won’t wait. She’s gathering allies, consolidating power. The longer we wait, the stronger she becomes.”

“And the stronger I become,” I point out.

All eyes turn to me.

“Every day, my abilities grow. By the full moon, I may be strong enough to face Elizabeth regardless of the transformation.”

“Or you might be completely out of control,” my father says, speaking for the first time.

“A liability rather than an asset.”

The old me would have been hurt by his assessment.

“There’s another factor to consider,” Astrid says.

“Mortimer. He’s had contingency plans within contingency plans for years. He won’t have allied himself with Elizabeth without some guarantee of protection.”

“Speaking of Mortimer,” Anthony pushes away from the window, “what exactly is his angle in all this? Elizabeth wants power, that’s clear enough. But Uncle Morty? What does he get out of backing her play? He never gave any indication he wanted to take over the Devine empire. Actually, quite the opposite. That whole thing with Tamara marrying Chester Freemont was to ensure the bloodline and create heirs to our line. It seems like he wants anything but to be in charge.”

“Survival. He likes the power without the spotlight,” I answer before anyone else can.

“I think he fancies himself the true power behind the throne.”

My father doesn’t meet my direct gaze.

“And to punish those who exposed him,” Astrid agrees, her eyes meeting mine.

“Particularly me.”

The thought of Mortimer harming Astrid sends a ripple of emotion through my cold detachment.

The flash of protective rage feels refreshingly human.

I cling to it, trying to fan it into a stronger flame.

“Yes, and revenge,” I say.

“Astrid humiliated him, and then the council stripped him of his position. He needs Elizabeth to regain what he’s lost.”

“Mortimer won’t be a threat. I can talk to him,” my father says.

Astrid arches a brow at him.

“The time for talk is over.”

“So we have a power-hungry vampire queen, a vengeful magic, the full moon, and a hybrid who’s evolving in unpredictable ways,” Sully summarizes.

“Sounds like a typical Tuesday night in the supernatural world.”

His attempt at humor earns a smile from Anthony and a disapproving look from my father.

I appreciate the effort, even if I can’t quite feel the amusement.

“We need a plan,” Costin says, bringing us back to the matter at hand.

“Elizabeth will expect us to come to her. She’ll have defenses in place, allies at the ready.”

“Then we don’t give her what she expects,” I suggest.

“We draw her out instead.”

Sully leans forward, interested.

“How?”

“With bait she can’t resist.” I look at Costin.

“Her own greed.”

His eyes narrow.

“Explain.”

“Elizabeth wants power, yes, but she also wants to prove herself superior to you. To finally break free of the bond that’s connected you for centuries.” I stand, moving to the center of the room where everyone can see me.

“What if we convince her that you’ve found a way to sever the sire bond? That you’ve discovered some ancient ritual that could free not just you from her, but me from you?”

“She’d never believe it,” my father dismisses.

“She might,” Astrid counters.

“If presented correctly. Elizabeth’s greatest weakness has always been her ego. The idea that Constantine found something she couldn’t, discovered a power that eluded her...”

“It would drive her mad,” Costin finishes, understanding dawning on his face.

“She’d have to stop it, to prove it impossible. Or to claim it for herself.”

“And we’d be waiting,” Sully adds, a predatory smile spreading across his face.

“My pack, your vampires, the magics who remain loyal to the Devine family.”

“It could work,” Anthony agrees.

“But we’d need to make it convincing. And we’d need a location that gives us the advantage, not her.”

The discussion turns tactical.

I listen as they debate the perfect spot for the trap, determining who can be trusted, and planning for all possibilities.

I contribute where needed, my cold logic proving useful for strategic planning but little else.

Part of me remains distant, observing rather than participating, as if I’m watching the scene unfold from outside my body.

As the others debate the finer points of magical barriers and attack formations, I find my attention drawn to the window.

The city sprawls below, millions of lives intersecting, each with their own dramas and desires.

From this height, they seem so insignificant, so fragile.

So tasty and fresh.

I try to hear their heartbeats.

Is this how Elizabeth feels?

This detachment, this sense of being above it all?

Is this why she sees nothing wrong with using others as pawns in her games of power?

The thought disturbs me enough to pull me back to the present.

I don’t want to be like Elizabeth.

I don’t want to lose what makes me human, even as I embrace what I have become.

“Tamara?” Costin’s voice breaks through my thoughts.

“What do you think?”

Their voices blur together like static.

They’re shadows of a world I’m slipping away from.

But I can’t afford to drift.

Not now.

I realize everyone is looking at me expectantly.

They’ve been discussing something, waiting for my input, but I haven’t been listening.

“I’m sorry,” I say, making an effort to reconnect.

“What was the question?”

Concern flashes across multiple faces.

Costin moves closer, lowering his voice though everyone in the room can still hear him.

“Where did you go just now?”

“Nowhere,” I lie.

“I was just thinking.”

He doesn’t believe me.

I can see it in his eyes, feel it through our bond.

But he doesn’t press the issue in front of the others.

“We were discussing your role in tomorrow’s battle,” Astrid explains, her tone carefully neutral.

“Given your evolving abilities and the full moon’s approach.”

“I’ll do whatever needs to be done,” I say simply.

Costin crosses to a bar and pours blood from a decanter.

He brings the glass to me.

It doesn’t smell the freshest, but it’s drinkable.

“We need more than that, Tam,” Anthony says, frustration evident in his voice.

“We need to know what you can do, what limitations you have, what we can count on.”

“I don’t know how to answer that,” I admit, drinking the entire glass before handing it back to Costin.

“The power keeps changing. Growing. I don’t know where its limits are yet.”

“Then perhaps we should find out,” Astrid suggests.

“Costin, would you mind showing them to the basement? Davis and I have things to discuss.”