I wish I could take back the cheap shot. It was pure self-defense, my go-to response when things get too real, too intense. But the look in his eyes makes my chest ache.
I open my mouth to apologize, but pride keeps the words locked in my throat.
“Is that what you think this is? Some cheap hookup line?” His eyes lock with mine, and I’m sure he can see the lie in them, even as I fight to keep my thoughts from him.
“Isn’t it?” I say. “Oh, wait.” I roll my eyes. “It’s more, right? It’s the blood match. If I get killed, you’re in deep shit.”
“Fuck it, Kara!” He shakes his head. “Will you stop that? I know you don’t really believe it. You can’t. Not after—”
“After what? You got into my pants?” I toss my hair over my shoulder. “Don’t try to tell me you haven’t done that with a thousand other women before me, Marcus. What makes me special?”
Part of me is hoping he’ll give me an answer that rings true. Because every time I’ve been inside his head, all I’ve felt is confusion and denial.
“I don’t have the Bloodbane,” he grits out. “This isn’t about that.”
“Really? Then what is it about?” I put my hands on my hips.
“I don’t know,” he says. “But it’s not what you think it is.” His chest rises and falls as he stares at me for a moment. “Good luck tonight,” he says, then turns and walks away.
The door closes behind Marcus with a soft click that feels louder than a slam. His hurt bleeds into mine before he shuts that down, too, leaving an emptiness that makes me shiver. The room feels cold without his presence, or maybe that’s just the hollow feeling in my chest.
“Well done, Kara. Real smooth.” I grip the edge of the desk, the crystals still rattling from our encounter. The ship’s rhythmic roll feels more like a rebuke now.
What was I supposed to do? Let him in? Give him that power over me? The pendant he gave me feels heavy against my skin, a reminder of the trust I just threw back in his face. I touch it, feeling its warmth fade.
It’s better this way.
This whole blood match thing – it’s just magic playing tricks. Some cosmic joke pairing a witch with a vampire. And I won’t let myself be dragged into it. My sisters may have bought into the whole idea, but that doesn’t mean I have to.
A man who wants to be with me because he needs my blood to survive?
Nope. Not gonna happen.
The day I give my heart – and that’s not what this is at all – it will be to someone who truly wants me, not for what runs through my veins.
The waves slap against the hull, their rhythm matching my racing pulse. His scent lingers in the air, making it impossible to clear my head.
I sag onto a nearby chair, rubbing my face with both hands and trying to forget how close we were, how real he felt, how genuine his gift was. The memory of pain flashing across his features makes my chest tight.
It’s not real.It can’t be real.
But if it’s not real, why does the room feel so empty? Why does every roll of the ship make me want to reach out for his steadying presence? Why does my magic feel dimmed, like someone drew a curtain over a bright light?
I fight the urge to go after him, to take back those stupid, defensive words. Pride keeps me rooted in place, even as regret sits heavy in my stomach.
The kiss still burns on my lips, making it impossible to think straight. My fingers trace the obsidian stone, and I yank my hand away. I can’t keep dwelling on his gift, on what it means.
It doesn’t mean anything. He’s a vampire. I’m a witch. End of story.
But the memory of his touch won’t leave me, the way our magic merged. No. That was just… What? A fluke? Some cosmic practical joke? We’ve known each other for what feels likeminutes. And also an eternity. This connection, whatever it is, can’t be real. It’s probably just some weird side effect of all the stress we’re under.
My crystals catch the lamplight, reminding me of more important things. Gran is out there somewhere, waiting for rescue. I need to focus on that, not on Marcus’s intense eyes or the way he looked at me before he left.
Get it together, Kara.
I mentally trace over the mission plans, trying to concentrate on the details. But my thoughts keep drifting back to him. The raw honesty in his voice when he gave me the pendant. The hurt I caused with my stupid, defensive words.
“This is ridiculous,” I mutter to the empty room. “You’re acting like some lovesick teenager.”
