Chapter Fourteen

Silas woke from the most peaceful sleep he'd had in centuries with a start. He'd gone years without sleeping more than scant hours, yet now he sensed it was late in the day and he could still rest for longer.

But something had awoken him. A creature, nibbling on his tunic sleeve.

Squeaking.

He growled on half asleep instinct, but the little rodent didn't back down. He wouldn't really hurt it, even if he was a little groggy. Esmae was fond of the little thing, after all.

Then—all at once he realized where he was.

And the fact there was no lovely female beside him.

She had left him .

Left. Him.

Not even a day after he'd lifted the compulsion. Had she truly left the moment he'd shut his eyes? More satisfied than any other time in his life, his female in his arms, sated, exactly how she belonged.

Apparently, Esmae had disagreed.

He roared, a stabbing pain hitting him in the chest.

Is this heartbreak?

He'd read poems in hundreds of languages on the subject. Always it had been abstract. None had let him imagine the sensation as it was—ugly. Dark. Like he was halfway toward vomiting.

Grief speared him. He'd lost her. Flames, he'd never truly had her. Despite all his efforts, he had not been enough. Food, clothes, treasures—there were none finer. If she had chosen to leave, it could only be because she found him lacking. If —the moss beside him, still indented with her lovely form, left little doubt.

The mole pawed him again. More insistently, as if annoyed Silas was moping. Now it tried to tug at Silas's sleeve with his little teeth. Damn it all. He'd managed to run off his mate, and now even the cave vermin weren't scared of him. Maybe he should burn his hoard to ashes and be done with it.

The gentle brush of her juniper and mayberry scent was embedded in the rodent's fur. He nearly reached out to stroke it, just to feel close to her. The little thing she'd kept as a pet. Two of a kind then, abandoned by Esmae.

But maybe it was more than that. She was a witch with magic, but Silas didn't know the nature. He hadn't pressed for details when she hadn't offered any. He could have forced her to tell him anything, but that's the last thing Silas wanted. He'd wanted to earn her confidence. Flames damn him, he'd thought he'd have more time!

But what if she was using the animal as a message? What if she had sent it to get help?

Maybe that was just what he wanted to believe, because it was preferable to confronting the fact he'd been abandoned. But he couldn't risk the alternative.

Besides, he'd told her she was free to leave. He'd meant it .

It didn't mean she could do so without him. If Esmae told him to go to the other end of the world and leave her be, so be it. But let that blow come from her lips, not the cold floor beside him.

He stood. The mole chirped approvingly and urged him forward. The vampire followed the instructions.

Silas would do far worse than follow a mole through his own caves to get to his mate.

Outside the caves, Silas picked up the trail of Esmae's scent. The darkness of dusk sheltered him from the worst of the sun, but even noonday rays wouldn't compare to the current pain in his chest.

"I'll find her from here," he promised the loyal little creature.

His hunt was swift. Silas covered the distance from the cliffs to just outside the village in under an hour, fast even for vampire standards. With every moment passing, he came closer to losing Esmae forever—if he hadn't already. The thought spurred him faster and faster.

His mate's scent grew more potent the farther he went. Yet something was off. Mayberries, juniper—but not the fresh bloom of spring. Instead, there was a layer of decay, as if frost snuffed out the herbs.

Something was wrong.

He crested a hill sheltered by the trees, when at last he caught sight of Esmae. Her back was turned to him, his cloak obscuring her form. She'd taken his cloak—did that mean something? But if it did, why leave? Strands of black and red hair billowed behind her. For a moment, his relief at seeing her was so acute he overlooked the rest of the scene.

Esmae was there, yes.

With another man.

His skin grew hot, bristling with anger. Had she chosen another over him? But the anger—it wasn't just his. Silas realized with a start what was happening. What happened between fated mates of his kind, between twin flames who bonded. Esmae's own anger burned inside his chest, fury and pain and… grief? Like his own, but different, mournful, without the jagged cuts of betrayal he felt in his own heart.

If he was feeling her emotions, that meant the bond had grown stronger. That last night had meant something to her.

But why the mourning? Who was this man to make her so angry? Why had she left?

Instinct urged him to charge forward and beat the man to a pulp. He was closer to shifting than he had been in centuries, but his vampire nature halted him. It cautioned him to stay hidden and listen. And had him baring his teeth when he heard the male speak.

"How are you still alive?" the stranger demanded. He was Esmae's age, but he lacked the natural refinement that colored all of Esmae's movements. He was tall, broad shouldered, with a chin that resembled a boulder, with blond hair that reminded Silas of mixed gold. For once, the color didn't impress him .

Esmae scoffed, the sound carrying over the wind. "Despite your best efforts, Jared, I've survived."

Jared snorted, the sound reminiscent of the pigs Silas used to eat. "No matter how you beg, I won't take you back. You made a mistake in leaving me, even if you're only realizing it now. Let your heart be ice and the village be rid of you."

"My heart isn't ice, I j-just didn't love you, you k-kobold's ass!" Utter contempt flowed from her words. Silas had thought he knew the sound of his mate's annoyance, but it had nothing on the derision she answered with. Yet her voice wobbled, as if she was freezing. Silas didn't feel the elements like a mortal, but it was a rather temperate evening.

"Well, you see where that got you. I told you I'd make you regret ending us."

"There was never even an u-us! It was you and your n-need for an audience. I'm my own p-person, Jared. I have hopes and d-dreams. I exist to d-do more than just support y-yours!"

She reached for Jared, but her arm stopped abruptly. By magic? Was this witch using some spell against his mate? His skin grew hotter still, the beast inside aching to be free. It should be impossible. He'd let the vampire venom turn him, bound his natural self. He'd been cursed to lock his other form up until his vampire nature was overpowered.

"Seems you're nothing without me." Jared leered at Esmae, as if he won something. "Let the ice devour you. I can tell it's already stalled your heart. Knowing you, you tried to fight your fate in some futile way. And you failed."

Silas waited for Esmae's next cutting response, but none came. Her arm stayed, except ice slowly crawled up and down, coating her fingers first in frost and then encasing them in ice.

"My curses always work, Esmae."

Cursed?

This piece of magical detritus had dared curse his mate?

Silas exploded.