The room was dark again, the house quiet. My heart pounded once, hard, then settled. Ambrosia’s voice lingered in the back of my mind like smoke.Only if you join me.
I pressed my palms against my eyes and exhaled.
If I wanted to break the bond, I would have to find another way. Ambrosia would never help me. The court would never help me. They had trapped me once. I would not allow them to do it again.
Somewhere in the next room, Nadia stirred in her sleep. The bond hummed faintly, a soft pull at the edge of my awareness.
I leaned my head back against the couch, listening.
Her breathing steadied me.
For now, that would have to be enough.
Chapter 14
Nadia
Iwoke up with a vampire on my mind.
Boy, would my therapist have a field day with that the next time we met.
I stretched, rolled over, and stared at the ceiling. My brain immediately jumped to Cristian. To his voice, his control, the way he looked at me like I was something he wasn’t sure he deserved to touch. My stomach fluttered, which was rude.
Sitting up in bed, I did my affirmations before my mind could wander further.
“I am not too much. I am me. I choose rest without earning it. I am allowed to feel good things without setting myself on fire afterward.”
Some of that even felt true today. Progress.
I reached under my pillow and pulled out the linen shirt I’d stolen. It still smelled faintly like him—clean, something old and grounded, like the kind of warmth that doesn’t fade. I held it to my chest and took a slow breath.
I was fine. Totally fine. A woman can appreciate the scent of a centuries-old vampire and not make it weird. Probably.
I needed to talk to Lena.
I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and texted her.
Me:Need to process vampire situation. Are you in?
I stared at the screen, waiting for the three dots. Nothing.
Right. She was probably saving actual lives or threatening someone’s ex with a scalpel. I tossed my phone back on the bed.
Outfit for emotional regulation and snack retrieval: navy shirt-dress with pockets, camel blazer, pearl drop earrings that jingled when I moved, combat boots for practicality and menace.
Then, because I could feel my brain starting to spiral into “What does it mean that he looked at me that way?” territory, I did the adult thing and scheduled a therapy session. Shockingly, my therapist had a last-minute cancellation and was able to see me quickly.
Five minutes later, the video call came through on my laptop.
“Hi, Nadia,” Dr. Patel said, smiling in that calm, devastatingly stable way of hers. “You look… rested?”
“That’s generous,” I said. “I look like someone who had an existential crisis and then moisturized.”
She chuckled. “Let’s start there. How have you been feeling since your summer break started? I know you had requested some space to practice what we’d been working on.”
I hesitated. “Complicated.”
“Complicated how?”
