Page 27 of Claimed

The line goes dead.

‘So… there’s a witch coming after all?’ Eira asks, and it is not as offhand as she wishes it to be.

‘Indeed.’

Something flickers in her face before she shuts it down.

The mark throbs harder. My strength is not restored. Bagged blood is fading already against the inferno Eira’s blood lit inside me. I can feel the stasis waiting beneath the surface, a dark water ready to drag me under.

I despise that everyone in this chamber can sense it. So I do what I have always done when weakness approaches.

I tighten my control.

‘Until Rowan arrives, I remain in the Lower Vaults. No one enters the inner ring without my command. Tezra’s murder is pursued quietly. Trace Rafael’s sireds through old routes too. I want every whisper of Tavish Drennan, Marek Volkov and Elian Sorell found before sundown.’

The Twelve move at once, relieved by purpose.

Then I look at Eira. ‘You stay close to me,’ I say.

Her brows lift. ‘Was that a question?’

‘No. You will not leave the Tower. And I suggest you think carefully about giving up whatever secrets you harbour in your blood.’

Her expression sharpens beautifully. ‘You don’t get to throw about threats, vampire.’

My gaze drops to her throat. To my bite. To the blood that nearly unmade me.

‘Little hunter,’ I say, voice roughening despite myself, ‘your body and blood just became a battlefield in a war older than your country. I suggest you adjust your outrage accordingly.’

She steps closer and my body leaps in answer, my fingers digging deeper into her hips. ‘And I suggest you remember I’m not territory.’

The mark flares with warning and hunger. Then with a laugh from some old abyss, my vision darkens at the edges.

Eira senses it and stops arguing. ‘You’re going under again.’

And Gods, that she’s so attuned to me, to the mark, is perhaps the most unsettling thing that has happened since I woke. ‘No.’

‘Valentin.’

My name in her mouth steadies me for one breath and destroys me in the next. I grip the edge of the table. ‘I am perfectly capable of remaining conscious.’

‘Sure. And I’m the Virgin Mary.’

Luca whispers, ‘Who?’

Aaron murmurs, ‘You need to read more, dude.’

The absurdity nearly pulls me back. Nearly.

The Vaults tilt. Eira inhales sharply as she wraps her arms around me. The chamber erupts in snarls as I bare my fangs at all of them.

Silence falls.

Her touch is warm. Beautifully warm. Necessary. Addictive. I look down at where her skin touches mine, then at her face.

‘What are you?’ I whisper. The question is too low for the others to hear.

She hears. Her throat works. Pain flickers across her face so quickly I almost miss it.