Page 51

“So, Quill— He can—” I shake my head, trying desperately to organize my swirling thoughts and emotions. “Wow. This is⁠—”

“A lot to take in?” Eivor supplies.

A small laugh escapes my lips. “I was going to say neat.”

“Yes, having a living sire is a real joy.” Eivor rolls his eyes. “Until you’ve been alive for hundreds of years and they won’t leave you the hell alone.”

“Who sired you two?” I ask. “Was it Quill?”

A tiny part of me hopes not because I want Quill all to myself. Another invisible caress, almost a whisper of breath, skitters down my spine. He’s listening in on my thoughts again when he could’ve just been here with me instead.

“Oh, fuck no. I’d stake myself if Quill sired me.” Carver laughs. “I don’t know who my sire is, and Eivor here was sired by⁠—”

“Me.”

I whirl around to find the petite woman from the rite standing behind me, cradling a rather fat black cat in one arm and carrying a chalice filled to the brim with red liquid in her free hand. She’s even prettier up close with her golden skin, dark eyes with a slight uptilt at the edges, and hair as glossy as a raven’s feather. In a blur, she presses the stem of the cup into my hand and then plops down on the settee with Eivor, draping her legs over his as she positions the cat in her lap.

“Always one for the dramatics, Risna,” Eivor says with a laugh. He scratches between the cat’s flattened ears. “Hello, lovely Florin.”

“I’m assuming these idiots didn’t feed you yet?” Risna asks, settling in.

My fangs spring free at the earthy scent wafting from the blood. “Maybe I should wait for Quill…”

“He won’t care if you feed while he’s not here, Rory,” Risna says. “Have at it.”

All three of them have now used my given name, and I can’t help but find myself more and more endeared to them because of it.

I swirl the liquid around and sniff it, like I’ve done countless times with various wines back in Adelphi. I have no idea if I look absolutely stupid doing so, but Eivor only grins as I bring the chalice to my lips. A small sip at first, letting my tongue, teeth, and mouth get used to the thick consistency. The aching in my gums immediately subsides, and the fire ravaging the back of my throat sighs in relief as I swallow.

Carver places a hand on my shoulder. “While we were waiting for you to wake, Quill mentioned you played a card game with him the first night you met. Does that mean you’re the betting sort?”

I chuckle. “I suppose so.”

“I’ll wager you can’t identify what animal this blood came from.”

“What do I get if I guess correctly?” I ask.

“I’ll owe you a favor.”

Risna and Eivor exchange a surprised glance. This must be a unique bet, then.

“And if I guess wrong?”

“You’ll owe me a favor.”

As if I have anything to give. I can’t help the smile curving across my face as I say, “You’re on.”

I gulp down a mouthful, cheeks filling and expanding like a squirrel with too many acorns as I swish it around. An entirely new world of flavors explodes across my tastebuds. Somehow, I’m able to taste everything—carrots and bark and clovers and the undeniable flavor of something sweet and gamey. A… rabbit?

This is marvelous. Absolutely disgusting, if I let myself think about it, but marvelous nonetheless.

“Well?” Carver looks at me expectantly.

I suck my teeth, lick my lips. “Was it a rabbit?”

“Yes!” Risna claps and startles Florin, who leaps from her lap and darts out of the bedroom. “Hold onto that favor, Rory. You have an eternity to lord it over his head.”

The three of them dissolve into laughter as they recall stories and enlighten me on the countless favors they’ve each owed one another. There’s a hollowness in my chest that has nothing to do with my unbeating heart. These vampires are friends—no, a family—with years upon years of history. I hide my frown behind the chalice as I take another sip, a heaviness settling like a cloak across my shoulders. Beneath the teasing and bickering, there’s something between these vampires my mortal home had been devoid of—love.