“Fuck.” I scrub my hand over my face.
“A blood match isn’t just about feeding,” Darick says, leaning forward. “It binds two souls together. The blood is just a catalyst.”
“But I don’t have the Bloodbane,” I growl, but even as I say it, I remember how that groupie’s blood tasted like ash in my mouth. How nothing satisfies me anymore. Not since I mether. The world’s most infuriating witch.
Darick’s eyes narrow. “The signs are there, Marcus. The intense attraction – don’t try to deny it; I’ve seen how you look at her. The overwhelming need to protect, even when it goes against logic. And now this mind connection?”
“It could be something else. Some witch trick—”
“Your power resonates with hers,” he cuts me off. “I felt it at the council meeting. When she got angry, your power responded. It’s like…” He pauses, searching for words. “Like two strings vibrating at the same frequency.”
I grip my glass tighter, remembering that electric surge when we kissed. How our powers had tangled together, creating something new and terrifying and exhilarating.
“The Bloodbane manifests differently for everyone,” Darick continues. “For me, it was a slow build. But for some, it hits all at once. The connection, the cravings, the way your strength starts to align with theirs…”
“I’m over five hundred years old,” I protest. “If I was going to develop it—”
“Age doesn’t matter. If anything, being older makes the connection stronger.” Darick’s voice softens. “Fighting it only makes it worse. Trust me on this.”
The ghost of Kara’s presence still hangs in my mind, a warmth I can’t shake. I remember how my power had surged protectively when Lucien looked at her, how everything in me had screamed to keep her safe.
“Shit,” I mutter, dropping my head into my hands.
Get it together, man.
I rise from my chair, unable to stay still. “This is ridiculous. Blood matches are rare. Practically impossible. And now, for so many of us to find them within such a short space of time… No. I don’t believe it.”
But even as I say it, memories flood back. The way her scent had remained with me long after she’d left. How I’d tracked her movements at the council meeting without meaning to.
“Fuck!” I slam my glass down on the table.
That girl tonight – her blood should have been perfect. Young, healthy, willing. The kind I’ve enjoyed countless times over centuries. But it had tasted wrong. Empty.
But to develop this so suddenly. I swear I was fine just days ago. I know I enjoyed feeding. The girls…
“I can’t have the Bloodbane.” My voice sounds hollow even to my own ears. “Do you understand what this would mean? Half the council already questions my judgment about Lucien. If they find out…”
The Bloodbane is seen as a weakness among our kind. A vulnerability that can be exploited. Vampires with the condition are often removed from positions of power – for their own protection, they claim. But we all know the truth. A vampire who can only feed from witches? Who forms an unbreakable bond with their natural enemy?
They’re not trusted to lead.
Darick is eyeing me with growing concern. “Goddammit, you’ve just taken my seat on Clan Sanguis. This couldn’t have happened at a worse fucking time.”
“Would there ever be a good time, Drake?” I snap. I think of the sneers, the whispered conversations, the political maneuvering that would follow if this got out. Centuries of carefully built influence and respect gone in an instant. And Lucien…he would use this to destroy everything I’ve worked for.
“I won’t accept this,” I growl, wishing I sounded more convincing. I straighten my shoulders, my voice dropping an octave when I continue speaking. “I don’t have the Bloodbane. And Kara Blackwood is not my fucking match.”
9
Chapter 9
Kara
Thesunroomfeelsdifferentat night, more intimate with its warm lamplight catching the crystal wind chimes Mom hung years ago. I stand stiffly near the windows while the others settle into their usual spots – Rowan curled in the window seat beside Soren, Mia perched on the arm of a chair where Darick is seated, Mom and Dad standing by the fireplace. The magic in the air is making the tiny hairs on my arms stand up.
Marina Tidecaller’s sea-blue eyes seem to shimmer as she takes a seat across from Gran’s empty chair. My chest tightens at the sight of it. Zephyra remains standing, her platinum hair stirring in a breeze that doesn’t exist.
“We’ve waited long enough,” I say, turning to face them. “The Conclave, the vampires – they’re doing it again. They’re all just talking while Gran is—” My voice catches.
