35. Amber

I returnto my room after dinner, exhausted from the training session with Cassandra, as frustrated as ever with my fading magic, and thinking about everything Abigail shared with me about her escape from the Pine Valley pack.

There’s a knock on my door, and then Damien’s standing before me.

I want to run to him and pull him close, but I stop myself. Because there’s something hard in his expression.

Something dangerous.

This isn’t the man who kissed me in his apartment.

This is the vampire king who’s out for revenge, no matter what the cost.

“I have a lead on Viktor,” he begins, and I say nothing, waiting for him to continue. “I’ll be back with the Astral Compass tomorrow.”

“You’re sure he has it?” I ask. “That Lucas didn’t have him hand it over for safekeeping or something?”

“I know Viktor,” he says. “He’s been a thief since he was a child. He’ll keep an item he values like that on him all day and night, protected no matter what.”

I almost say that if anyone knows Viktor well, it’s Damien.

But I stop myself. Because Damien was caught as off-guard as the rest of us when Viktor turned on the clan.

“I want to go with you,” I say instead.

“Absolutely not,” he says, with a finality that leaves no room for argument. “You’re tired from training, your magic is weakening, and most importantly, you’re a shadow soul beacon. It’s not safe for you out there.”

I’m about to protest. But I stop myself.

Because he’s not wrong.

“Even with our discovery about the shadow souls getting confused while we were in the taxi, it’s not enough,” he continues. “If we run into any issues on this mission, we might not get another shot like this at Viktor. Plus…” He glances out the window, and the same pain crosses his eyes that he had while he recounted his old stories with Viktor at the dinner table. “Viktor was my closest friend. I sired him. I taught him everything he knows about life as a vampire. This is something I need to do alone.”

“I understand,” I say, because I do.

His gaze softens, and he steps closer, bridging the space between us. “Thank you,” he says, and he lifts his hand to cradle my face, his thumb tracing the line of my cheek with a tenderness that sends my heart beating at a million miles a minute.

And then, he kisses me.

It’s a kiss that speaks of gratitude, of shared burdens, and of whispered promises.

The intensity of it ignites something within me. And before I realize what’s happening, my hands find their way to his chest, and he pulls me closer, the feeling of his body pressed against mine a dream I never want to wake up from.

But then he moves back slightly, resting his forehead against mine. “I have to go,” he murmurs. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Yes. Soon,” I reply, breathless. Then, before he can leave, I add, “You promise?”

There’s so much more meaning behind his return after doing what he needs to do tonight. Because where will his mind be after he’s finished with Viktor? Will he ever be able to forgive himself for killing the man he’s viewed as family for so long?

Will the same man who just kissed me be the one I see again tomorrow morning, or will he become someone else entirely?

“I promise,” he says, and then he gives me one final, longing look and heads out the door before we can say anything more.

The air feels cold where he just stood.

But even with him gone, the intensity of his kiss lingers on my lips, a reminder of the connection between us. It’s a bond forged in the challenges we’ve faced together—a testament to the strength we draw from each other, both through the duskberry bond and the support we give each other with each battle fought.

His marriage proposal, once a thought that sent waves of dread crashing through me, now feels like a shore I’m steadily drifting toward.

But I’m not ready to voice these thoughts to him. Not yet. There’s so much I have to learn about what it would mean for me.

He’ll be okay, I tell myself. He has centuries of experience with this kind of thing. He has to be okay.

And, with that final thought, I head back down to the gym to do some solo practice with my daggers. Precisely, throwing them at targets to get as many bullseyes as I can.

Because I might not know what’s coming next.

But I can still prepare as best as I possibly can.