“I thought you said it wouldn’t hurt,” she rasped.
The guilt hit me like a physical blow.You did this. You put her through this.Before I could answer, her body jerked suddenly, and she turned to the side, retching violently over the edge of the bed.
I moved instinctively, holding her steady with one arm while the other brushed her hair away from her face. The sound of her retching scraped at something deep and unguarded inside me. It was agony to hear her like this and know I was the reason for it.
When she finally stilled, I scooped her into my arms and carried her to the bathroom. I set her down on the edge of the tub, steadying her against the wall. She leaned heavily into me and rested her head against my shoulder.
I ran a washcloth under cold water, the sharp chill biting into my fingers. Kneeling before her, I pressed the damp cloth to her forehead, brushing it gently over her clammy skin. I wiped away the sweat and tears streaking her face, each pass of the cloth an unspoken apology.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured. The words felt hollow and inadequate, but they were all I had. “The ritual isn’t supposed to cause any discomfort. It wasn’t supposed to hurt you.”
Her lips twitched, and for a moment, I thought she might cry. But instead, she let out a weak scoff. “It’s a little more than just discomfort,” she whispered, her voice trembling with the effort.
I didn’t smile back. I couldn’t. My failure had crushed any semblance of levity. I brushed her hair behind her ear, my hand lingering on her cheek. Her skin was warmer now, her breathing a fraction steadier, but it wasn’t enough to temper the storm raging inside me.
“You being human must’ve made it worse. Apparently, it’s not meant to be done on someone like you.”
Her eyelids fluttered, and for a moment, it looked like she might respond. But then her body sagged forward, her strength giving out entirely.
“Vivian,” I said sharply, shaking her gently. “Stay with me.”
She groaned softly, her head lolling against my chest. I cradled her like she was something precious—fragile, irreplaceable. The thought terrified me, but I didn’t shove it away this time as I carried her back to the bed.
I tucked her in again, pulling the blankets up to her chin. She murmured incoherently under her breath, her voice little more than a breath, and then she went still. Too still. My heart clenched painfully, and my fingers twitched at my sides as I leaned closer. I pressed two fingers under her nose, waiting, praying for the warmth of her breath.
When I felt it, relief flooded through me. But it was fleeting. She was alive, but barely.
I knelt next to the bed, my head bowed, staring at her pale, fragile form. Each rise and fall of her chest felt like a lifeline, but it wasn’t enough. I had done this to her. My shadows, my will,had nearly broken her. And for what? A bond she hadn’t asked for, an alliance she had no say in.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I should’ve left. Should’ve walked out of the room and let her sleep off the worst of it. But I stayed rooted to the floor, my chest aching every time I thought of leaving her alone. My hands curled into fists at my sides as I forced myself to take a steadying breath.
Before I realized what I was doing, I climbed into the bed beside her, careful not to disturb her. The mattress dipped under my weight. I held my breath, waiting for her to stir.
She didn’t.
I turned on my side, watching her in the faint light that filtered through the curtains. Her breathing was steadier now, her features softening as sleep claimed her fully. Hesitantly, I brushed my fingers against the edge of the blanket as if to reassure myself she was still there. Still alive.
Why do you care?The thought echoed again, louder this time, but I had no answer. All I knew was that leaving her alone tonight felt impossible.
My gaze drifted to the mark on her neck, the swirling sigil that bound her to me. It pulsed faintly, a reminder of the power I held over her—and the responsibility that came with it. The bond was permanent, unbreakable.
I closed my eyes, letting out a slow, shuddering breath as I settled into the bed. Whatever this was—this strange, unwelcome concern—I would deal with it later. For now, I would stay.
And if I found myself counting the rise and fall of her chest until sleep finally claimed me, well… no one else had to know.
17
VIVIAN
Waking up felt like I was clawing my way out of a thick fog. It was a struggle just to open my eyes. My head pounded in time with my heartbeat, and my limbs felt like lead weights. The remnants of the ritual clung to me, an unpleasant heaviness that refused to dissipate.
I blinked against the soft light filtering through the curtains. The room was quiet, too quiet, save for the steady sound of breathing. Breathing that was decidedly not mine.
I sat up with a start, my heart lurching in my chest. My vision blurred momentarily as I turned, instinctively clutching the blanket to my chest. Raffaele was lying next to me, his dark hair slightly mussed, his face peaceful in sleep. For a moment, I was too stunned to react.
Then his eyes opened.
