Page 115 of Savage Thirst

Kayden freezes.

"It doesn't just taste different," I explain, voice quieter now. "It changes your senses. Temporarily. Like you're alive again."

He stares at me. No grin. No mocking gleam. Just a real reaction.

Then—"Shit. This is the effect?" he says, mouth full of pancake now, already piling more food onto his plate in glorious chaos. "And here I thought I was exaggerating when I suggested locking you in a cage and harvesting your blood like a rare vintage."

I exhale, rolling my eyes. "You're a real romantic, you know that? My kind was hunted by vampires for this reason."

"Didn't have to hunt you," he says with a shrug. "You stayed. More or less."

There's a beat. Then, softer, he adds, "You know us by now, sunshine. We won't push this. We won't tell anyone. And we're not gonna guilt you into bleeding for us. But if this is what it does… I'm damn well going to enjoy it while it lasts."

I hand him a mug of coffee. He takes it with surprising gratitude, still chewing like a man who hasn't tasted joy in a century.

And somehow it feels like a real breakfast. Not normal, obviously, since there's the whole blood-magic effect, but it's close to something domestic. Like a family, if you squint and forget how supernatural this all is.

I sip my coffee, Kayden devours half the table, and Asher quietly piles pancakes onto my plate with a small, soft, intimate smile.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Sage

"I don't know why, but I'm nervous," I admit, arms crossed tight as we wait for the druid to arrive.

Eira volunteered to pick her up from the airport, so now it's just the three of us waiting. I rub the celestite crystal in my pocket like a worry stone, the surface smooth and cool against my thumb.

It's not just the spell. It's the fact that, once this is done, I'll have no excuse to stay. No more 'until I'm protected' or 'until it's safe.'

If I stay after this… it's a choice. With all its consequences.

"We've got the crystal, the money, and some rabbit food for her. What's there to worry about?" Kayden says, arm sliding around my waist.

He's balancing a glass of scotch in the other hand. He's been sampling flavors the whole day and still settled on his favorite liquor in the end.

"It's not rabbit food," I grumble, eyeing the hummus platter. "Okay, maybe the carrots and celery. But the crackers are fancy."

"It'll be fine," Asher says quietly, brushing his knuckles against my jaw. The touch is feather-light but grounding. "We're here with you."

I nod, though my stomach is doing slow flips. Having them beside me helps, since I'm not sure what I'm doing.

Soon enough, we hear tires on gravel. The car stops.

Eira steps out first, graceful as always, with her flowing clothes and that serene, not-quite-human stillness she carries. The woman beside her is the surprise.

I expected someone older, wiser in the gray-hair-and-bone-charms kind of way, but the druid looks barely thirty. Mid-thirties at most. Short black hair, dark eyes sharp as obsidian. Small frame, but there's weight in her presence—authority without effort.

"Hi," she says as they enter the living room. "You must be Sage. I'm Maeve." Her voice carries an Irish lilt, melodic, but with an edge beneath it.

"Nice to meet you," I say, stepping forward.

After short introductions, we all take our seats.

Eira grabs drinks—sparkling water for herself, juice for Maeve—and they settle into the armchairs. I take the middle of the couch. Kayden perches on the armrest beside me, sipping his scotch. Asher sits next to me, posture upright, spine rigid like he can't quite let go of his soldier's reflexes, even in his own home.

Maeve studies us with a slow, assessing gaze.

"I don't usually respond to summons," she says, crossing one leg over the other. "But I was curious. Eira told me what you are. I've never met a made-nymph."