Page 91 of Let Sleeping Vampires Lie

“You’re doing that thing where you leave,” he said.

“I’m right here.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

I sighed, then reached for him. “Help me up, then, before I float away entirely.”

He offered his hand as if I weighed nothing. When I stood, the room tilted for a heartbeat. The borrowed power inside me flared in response, a hot coil beneath my skin. It wasn’t painful, exactly. Just… wrong.

I pushed the thought away, crossed to the bathroom, and did a quick patchwork job making myself look like a functioning vampire and not someone who’d just been thoroughly wrecked by the clan’s most dangerous warrior. Cold water on my face, fingers through my hair, fresh clothes from the wardrobe. By the time I emerged, Con had fully dressed, belt buckled, holster in place, hair tied back at the nape of his neck.

Duty restored. Lover tucked neatly behind the armor.

“All right,” I said, smoothing the hem of my shirt. “Let’s go see what Julian’s done to make bureaucracy move faster.”

We were crossing the room, heading toward the door that led out into the hall, when a knock sounded from the adjoining door on the other side. The one that connected our suite to the next.

Con and I shared a look.

“Raven,” I said.

His gaze flicked to my throat again, then to my hands. Protective instinct rolled off him like heat.

“She wouldn’t be knocking if it was urgent-urgent,” I added. “She’d just barge in and tell us.”

“True,” he conceded.

The knock came again, a little softer this time. I crossed to the connecting door and opened it.

Raven stood on the other side, bare feet on the polished wood, dark hair pulled into a messy knot on top of her head. She wore an oversized T-shirt that may have belonged to Isra, and a pair of leggings with a small tear at one knee. Even like this—no makeup, no glam, no careful presentation—she still had that star quality. A presence that filled a room, even when she tried to make herself smaller.

Tonight, though, she looked… faded.

There were shadows under her eyes that no amount of concealer could hide, and her skin had lost some of its usual luminous glow. The scent of old magic and steel clung to her, threaded through with the copper tang of blood and something bitter. Tonic. Or the compound they’d used to poison her in the first place.

“Hey,” I said, immediately uneasy. “Is everything okay?”

She flicked a glance past me at Constantine, taking in the state of the room in one swift sweep. Bed rumpled, sheets barely pulled straight, Con looking too composed for someone who had definitely not slept.

Her mouth twitched, but she let it go. “Relax, Cass. I’m not here to give you the awkward sex talk.”

“I would appreciate that. Is everything okay?” Constantine asked.

“No, Con, everything is not okay. But nothing’s on fire. Yet.”

Relief loosened something in my shoulders. “How’s Rene?”

A beat of silence.

She looked down at her hands, fingers twisting together. “Sleeping.”

“He’s always sleeping,” I muttered, frustration slipping through before I could catch it.

Raven lifted her gaze back to mine and nodded. “Yeah. He drinks and goes back to sleep. He’s conserving his energy.” Her throat worked. “But I’m not here about him.”

A small chill slid down my spine. “You just said nothing’s on fire.”

“I said yet.” She stepped past me into the room and closed the door behind her. Her movement was slower than usual, careful. She carried herself like someone whose bones ached. When she looked at me again, her eyes were clear, but there was a tightness at the edges, like she was bracing for impact. “I’m here about you.”