In my bedroom, everything smells like Declan, and I tear the door from its hinges and throw it down the stairs. I want to destroy everything that smells like him because I don’t know where he is and drowning in the smell of him is fucking agony.
“We’ll find him.” My father’s voice from the splintered door jamb draws my attention away from the tangled curtains that are no doubt smeared with Declan’s cum. I think about opening them, punching through the window.
Burning.
“Get out of your head, brother.” Henry is there now, too.
“I don’t want to hear from either of you.” I spin on my heel and slash my hand through the air like a knife. “Neither of you know what this feels like! You don’t understand how it feels to fail your fucking mate like I have.”
I stalk toward my father and shove him in the chest. He doesn’t move, because why would he? He’s nearly a thousand years older than I am. He stands stoic and lets me pummel him in the chest, the arms, the shoulders, the gut, until my chest is heaving and I’m tired from the exertion.
He walks me to my bed and pulls the blankets back, tucking me in like my birth mother used to do before I became what I am now. The memory is like a thorn in my side and I’m acutely aware of how terrible the loss really is. The loss of her, of my mortality, and now of Declan, because no matter what my father says, I’m not convinced I can save him.
My father rubs my shoulder and joins Henry back in the doorway. “Conserve your energy, Ezra. We’re going to strike at moonrise.”
I’ll burn down every sage bush in Carver County for him
I don’t sleep.
I stare at the broken door hinges and wait for the sky to turn black. I haven’t eaten. I haven’t changed clothes. I haven’t even thought about those things. The only thing that matters is Declan.
Downstairs, my mother is waiting by the door with a thermos. She holds it out to me, pushing it into my chest when I try and wave her off. “I don’t want donor blood. I’ll wait.”
“Ezra, you need to listen.” She grabs my bicep and her nails press into my skin. I stop and study her, and she pushes the thermos into my chest again. “It’s mine, alright? Mine.”
I take the thermos from her, some of the fight going out of me.
“It won’t make you as strong as if it were his, but we’re blood-bound, so it’s better than not.” She lets go of my arm and strokes her fingers down my cheek. The maternal feeling of it all is unsettling. “I didn’t think you’d want to take it from me directly, so.”
She gestures toward the thermos.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“Now be a good boy and eat before you go. Please. Your father doesn’t want me to go with you, so it’s all I can do.”
I twist the top off the thermos and take a large drink. Her blood is still warm. It’s thick and rich and it coats my mouth and throat. She tastes like tobacco and gin, like memories from my youth, and there’s an unexpectedly welcome feeling that washes through me with every swallow.
She looks at me like she knows, then pats me reassuringly as I finish off the contents of the thermos under her watchful eye. When I’m done, she takes it from me and twists the top back on.
“I know you’ve never wanted this, Ezra, and I live with a lot of regret over how you were turned, but I don’t regret you. Not for one second.”
I think that’s an apology and, after wanting one for all these years, it falls flat. It’s not what I need, or what I want anymore.
All I want is him.
“I’ll go get William.” She walks up the stairs with the grace of someone who has had years of practice at it.
I open the front door while I wait. The air is still warm from the sun, and the stars haven’t come out yet, but Declanwillsee the stars again, even if I have to burn the entire world down to make it so. When I turn to see my father and brothers coming down the stairs, a strong sense of Deja vu vibrates through my bones. My eyes widen, and I feel, much like I have with Declan recently, that I’ve done this before. I’ve lived this life. I’ve gone to war for him. And since I’m here now, the good news is I’ve always won.
Elijah is beside Diah and he looks like he’s been hit by a truck, but he keeps letting his attention drift toward my brother, who looks like he’s well aware that he may not live to see the sunrise. It’s unsettling to see him show such disregard for his own life, but despite her faults, he loved Liz. They both did. And now she’s dust, and we’re burdened with an eternity without her.
“Are you ready?” my father asks. He takes Mom’s hand in his and kisses her knuckles. She lifts onto her toes and gives him her neck.
“Before you go,” she says quietly, and he bites. His fangs are longer than mine, and I see them shine under the light before they puncture the thin skin near her throat. The look she makes is purely orgasmic, and I’m battling back more memories when the stillness of my thoughts is shattered with a tortured scream.
I cover my ears and bend in half, resurfacing after it quiets only to realize no one else head it. The pain is in my head and mine alone, which means…
“We need to go,” I beg. “Please. He’s…. They’re hurting him.”
