Page 50

He nods, and I can see the stark relief on Gaspard’s face before it shutters again into unreadability. “It was touch and go for a while, but she pulled through. If she were human, I don’t think she would have lasted, but her magic instinctively protected her heart and brain when she was hit, so the damage wasn’t irreversible. The internal bleeding was bad at first, and her arm and leg were broken. I’ve done what I can, and she should be back to full health in twenty-four hours, give or take.”

“Thank you, Hector,” I say. “Once again, you prove worthy of my investment in you.”

“Pleased to prove myself,” he responds dryly. “It’s been a long hour, though, and I need to rest. I’ve depleted my magic by quite a bit and won’t be able to teleport home. Can someone drive me?”

“Sebastian will take you. Gaspard, take the good doctor to the car,” I order. “And Hector, you can expect a healthy donation to your clinic for services rendered.”

“That’s not necessary,” Hector says. “Jade is actually a friend. We run in the same hedgewitch circles. I’m glad I could save her.”

“Be that as it may, the donation is coming,” I say firmly. The money serves the dual purpose of showing my gratitude and keeping the hedge warlock on my leash. It’s good to remind him from time to time how much he needs me.

He wearily nods, not arguing any further. “Then I accept it with gratitude. My thanks, Commandant.”

“This way, Doctor,” says Gaspard, even though Hector knows his way through my house. Gaspard is nothing if not obedient.

I consider checking on Jade, but I don’t really care for her welfare beyond the fact that her death would distress Andi and Gaspard. If Hector says she will make a full recovery, I believe him. And I have been too far from my siren for too long.

As I walk through my home to the green guest room, I feel . . . disturbed. I can't entirely put my finger on it, but, for some reason, I feel off-kilter. Perhaps it is because I almost lost Andi tonight. If I had not been following her from a discrete distance all day, watching over her, then the Circle might have succeeded in their plot to take her. I should be worried about that because they could use her blood against me, but it feels more personal to me somehow. It must be because of her blood’s hold on me. I did take in more of her blood at the scene of the accident after all. It must have re-cemented my worshipful feelings for the siren.

In all my long years, I have never felt like this about another person in all my long years. The closest thing I can think of is my devotion to my sister, which disturbs me further. The sibling bond with my sister was strong, and losing her led to the worstpain I've ever experienced. Even when I became a vampire, I was only able to avenge her, not save her. If my feelings for Andi are anything like that, though they are decidedly not like siblings, then she has become a weakness indeed. I need to find a way to break the hold of being siren-bound before it's too late.

I come to the door leading to Andi’s room and slip inside with the stealth of a predator. The light is off, and I can hear her softly breathing. She must have fallen asleep. Good. She needs her rest. Without thinking too much, I take off my shoes and remove my bloody coat and shirt, hanging them on a chair, before climbing onto the other side of the bed. I do this only to protect her. I need to be close to her, to make sure she’s alright. Tonight’s events have shaken me to my very core, and I don’t feel peaceful until I’m next to her, where I am between her and all harm.

In the dark, I can see Andi clearly, her face completely relaxed. The warmth of her body has permeated the blankets and feels delicious to my cool skin. She rolls over in her sleep, murmuring something nonsensical under her breath, and I smile, thinking of earlier when she could not keep her thoughts in her head. The siren has been having thoughts about me, hasn't she? I would pay a great deal to know the specifics of those thoughts. Does she dream of my body the way that I dream of hers?

Her face scrunches as I watch her, and her muscles tense. She groans, a distressed sound, and tosses the other way in the bed.

“No . . .” she moans again. “No . . . Colton, no . . .”

I frown. She’s having a nightmare. Her bastard ex has invaded even her dreams. She tosses back the other way, struggling against the blanket, and then cries out.

“No! I said no!”

I put out a hand and shake her shoulder lightly. “Wake, ma souris. It is a nightmare, not real. Wake!”

She struggles for another long moment, and I shake her a little more forcefully, though still being careful to be gentle with my strength. With a start, her eyes open, blind in the darkness. She jerks away from my hand. “Who’s there?”

“It is only Julian, ma jolie fille. You are safe.” I speak in a calming, assuring way, like one would with a spooked horse, tone as warm and soothing as I can manage.

Andi instantly relaxes, slumping toward me. “Julian . . . I thought . . .”

“I know what you thought, Andi. You were speaking in your sleep.” I take the opportunity to wrap my arms around her and pull her to my chest. Andi doesn’t fight me and comes willingly, her body slack and at ease in my embrace. Though we have kissed a few times, it is the closest that I have ever been to her, and something slides into place in my chest; a sense of rightness and protectiveness as I have never known. It stills the tumultuous feelings that I have been experiencing all day as I have been separated from her. It must be another effect of her blood, but I do not mind it. I have seldom been so peaceful in all my centuries of living.

We lay together in the quiet darkness for some time, our breathing synchronizing. Her warmth leeches into my skin, and I loosen my muscles, enjoying it the way I would a sauna or hot stone massage. We are under the blankets, and I can feel her falling back asleep when she suddenly starts.

“Julian, not that I’m not grateful that you woke me from my nightmare, but why are you in my bed?”

I grimace in the darkness, though tucked away against my chest as she is, and in the dark, she cannot see my expression. “I was . . . disturbed without you, ma souris. Nothing felt right. It felt as if I didn’t see you, that you would disappear from under my nose.”

“So you took off your shirt and invited yourself under the blankets with me?” There’s no censure in her voice as she says this. If anything, she sounds wryly amused.

“Under the blankets looked very inviting,” I return. She seems to accept this explanation and stays in my arms, not fighting my embrace. It may just be because she needs comfort after her ordeal, but I am glad.

We stay for a while in companionable silence, then she starts again, her tone a little hesitant. “Julian . . . I suppose I never said thank you.”

“For what, ma souris?”

“For saving me. If you hadn’t been there . . .” She breaks off and shudders.