A Ride of Peril (A Shade of Vampire #46)(15)

“How are you doing this?” I croaked, unable to stop myself from taking it all in.

The Daughter shrugged, her innocent expression further driving me off the edge. “I don’t know. I just feel like I can make you feel what I feel. Can you feel me?”

“Yes,” I smiled. “All of you. Bliss.”

I bent forward and took her in my arms and nuzzled the delicate curve between her long neck and shoulder. I breathed her in, drunk on her scent, a delightful mixture of lilies and the sea. She sighed, her palm resting on my face.

“Can you feel this?” I asked, my voice low and raspy.

As much as I tried to keep my desire under control, I couldn’t. The chain reactions shook me to my core. But I had to explain death to her. I had to teach her. I had to make her understand the concept of loss. I couldn’t let her give in to her sisters. They were cruel and unforgiving. She had to know.

“Yes,” she sighed, trembling.

I raised my head to see her expression. Her eyes were half-closed, her lips parted, begging to be kissed.

“Imagine that you wouldn’t be able to feel any of this ever again,” I said gently.

I ran my fingers down her face, tracing the contour of her jaw until I reached her lower lip. Her breath hitched as she softened against me, arching her back.

Keep it together.

“Imagine that you can never touch or be touched again. That you can never see me—or any of this world—again.”

Her eyes widened, a small crease forming between her eyebrows. Her nostrils flared, and I watched as tears welled up and rolled down her cheeks. With each minute that passed, her devastation became more evident, and I could feel her grief.

It poured through me, rippling within my chest until I felt a tear leave my eye. Whatever she felt, I felt.

I did it.

I got my point across, and the Daughter was now faced with the prospect of an end to all of this. She hated it. She rejected it. Just like little Phoenix when his parents told him he’d outlive his human friends.

The Daughter was unable to stop the wave of emotions washing over her. I took it all in. The grief. The pain. The sadness. She sobbed as I held her, her head resting against my chest.

“I don’t want to die. I don’t want you to die. I don’t want to feel like this ever, not even hypothetically!” she cried, and I tightened my grip on her, running my fingers through her silky hair.

“Nice use of the word ‘hypothetically.’” I smiled, and she broke down even further, shuddering against my body and tearing me apart.

“It’s okay, it was probably just a bad dream,” I whispered.

I didn’t want her gone either. The invisible string that tied our hearts to one another would be severed, and I’d end as well. I’d only just found her.

“I don’t like death,” she whimpered between hiccups.

Her suffering was raw and genuine, and it broke me down. I had to stop it.

“You’re a Daughter of Eritopia. Death is not for you.”

“But why would my sisters want me dead?”

“It was just a bad dream. You said so yourself.” My gaze found hers. “Listen to me. It was just a bad dream.”

“Don’t leave me.”

Why would I ever leave you?

“I won’t.”

Why would I ever part from the one creature who brings a purpose into my life without me even asking?

“Don’t die,” she pleaded.

“I won’t.”

Why would I ever die, when every fiber in my body only draws me closer to you, pushing me to live?

“It was just a bad dream,” she finally conceded.





Phoenix





We stood like that for a while longer, long enough for her tears to subside.

I felt her relax in my arms and relished every second I got to be so close to her.

Eventually she took a step back, wiped her tears, and took a deep breath. I smiled at her and looked around, realizing we’d pretty much finished searching the banquet hall.

The solution to our problem, as interconnected beings in this world, was to eliminate Azazel’s threat. Finding the third book and retrieving Sverik was part of the process.

I was ready to do anything to keep the Daughter here, with me.

“Do you think the ancient wards might know something about the book?” I wondered out loud.

Her face lit up, and she beamed at me.

“That is a great idea! Why didn’t I think of it?” She closed her eyes.

A moment passed before she gasped and looked at the double doors leading outside. “Let’s go,” she said, then took my hand and pulled me out of the banquet hall.

We ran up the stairs, then turned left and reached the far end of the corridor, where the ladder leading to the attic extended to the open hatch above. She climbed up, and I followed. She walked toward the middle of the attic room, looking left and right until she found what she was looking for.

She pulled an old chest from underneath a pile of dusty carpets. It was an old traveler’s chest, made of wood with a metal frame, the sides covered in snakeskin. The lock on it was massive but rusty.

“I don’t think there’s a key,” I said.

“We need to open it. The wards have spoken,” she replied.