Page 15 of Seared Fates

Nostrils flaring, I find the stink closest to his bed and march over.

“Hey, stop!”

Grabbing hold of the frame and lifting the whole thing easily with one hand, I find the source easily enough when my gaze lands on a grey leather-bound book.

“Kai.” I turn to find him chewing on his lower lip. “Why do you have a blood mage spellbook under your bed?”

Chapter six

Vidar

“I’m not a blood mage,” Kai blurts.

“Obviously not. Blood mages stink of rotting flesh. Like their disgusting spellbooks.” Carefully, I reach to grab what Kai tried to hide. Like if he couldn’t see it, it wasn’t there.

But the moment my fingers graze the wrinkled leather-bound cover, searing pain, like dripping acid, has me reeling back.

“Shit.” I snap, blisters bubbling my skin.

“Vidar?” Kai closes the small distance to reach me. “What happened?”

They heal quickly, but leave behind an unpleasant tingle. For now, his question is ignored so I can grab a hoodie hanging from a hook and toss it over the spellbook to pick the foul thing up without damaging myself. But even through the thick material it burns hot like a tray pulled from the oven.

“Can you touch this cursed thing?” I ask, dropping the bed I’ve been holding up to land with a loud crash. Kai jumps at the sound, then shoots a glare at me when the neighbours downstairs shout for us to keep it down.

“Er, yeah. You can’t?”

“Kai, tell me why you have this.” The stink wafting from it could curdle milk. Thankfully, Kai can’t smell it as his human nose is not able to detect magical senses.

He shifts. “Lucero told you about Jace kidnapping us?”

I nod.

“When they came to rescue us, the warehouse we were in was burning. Emma told Jace to throw her the book, but I guess he had two and accidentally threw one to me. Jace was…hurt, disoriented. Scared? Dying, I guess. I hated him for so long, but seeing that…” He shakes the thought away. “Doesn’t matter. I planned on giving the spellbook to Lucero, but then the warehouse was coming down and Golden…he d—”

It takes a moment for Kai to collect himself. I’ve stared death down countless times. But Kai? This experience left visible cracks—cracks I watch him struggle to shore up.

It makes me wonder about the ones he keeps hidden.

“Golden died,” he whispers, so quietly I barely catch it. He finds his voice soon enough, however, and continues, “Then him turning into a vampire was a whole big fucking nightmare. There really wasn’t ever a good time to hand it over.”

All the tension in his body leaves him.

“Honestly, I’m relieved you’ve found it, Vidar. You can take it now.”

When he looks at me, face open and clear as a cloudless day, something with thorns takes root in my gut that I have to tell him the truth. “I can’t.”

“Wait, why? No. Vidar. I don’t want it, take it away.” He steps towards me, begging without words for me to help him and those thorns dig deeper. My protective instincts surge forward, and in this moment, if I could, I would suffer the burning for eternity.

If only the spellbook’s cursed magic worked like that.

“Because…” I glance down at the large tome, not heavy in weight but in power. I’m not sure how old it is, but it's been drenched in enough blood to drown a man. “It’s bound to you now, Kai. The previous master, no matter if he intended to or not, handed ownership to you.”

“He meant to throw it to Emma!” He takes a step back, shaking his head. “No way, Vidar. Take it away from me.”

Inwardly, I curse. Even in the worst of my apathy, I never had this crushing sense of weakness—my soulmate is pleading with me to help. Every instinct tells me to provide. Chieftain. Warrior. Ancient vampire.

Yet none of those titles helps me when it matters most.