2. Cassandra

CASSANDRA

Goddess, my head hurts. What on earth did I drink last night? I groan and try to rub my temple but something heavy is draped over my chest. I grin, despite myself, recognizing Ashe’s scent. When he sleeps, he might as well be a boulder rather than a vampire. If my head hurts this badly and he’s out, no doubt that means Rhys and Ezra convinced us to do something crazy.

I pry open my eyes, squinting against the pale light only to immediately frown. I don’t recognize the ceiling. This isn’t our cottage. In fact, the plush bed under me is too soft to be the featherdown mattress Ambrose gifted us for our wedding.

“Cassandra,” a soft familiar voice whispers my name, and I crane my neck to the right to find the speaker.

“What—” I croak out the question and Josephine shushes me before bringing a glass with a straw to my lips. I gulp down the tepid water eagerly before pulling away and trying again. “What happened? Where are we?”

Ashe still hasn’t moved, a dead weight against me pinning me flat on my back. I can just make out Josephine’s golden eyes in the shadows, and they’re filled with concern.

“How much do you remember?” she asks and my brows furrows deeper.

What I remember. . . I try to think, the pounding in my head yet to lessen. I wrestle my arm from under Ashe’s embrace and freeze as I see manicured nails filed into sharp points. With a gasp, memories flood my mind like hurricane waves barreling into a city.

The last hundred and fifty years of sharing my mind and body with Eris returns. More importantly, I remember Eris facing the archangel Aeternaphiel and her essence being sucked from me. I remember the pain as she dug her metaphysical claws into my own essence to hold on. I remember the mind-splitting pain as the angelic blade sliced through the revealed shadow form of Eris. It was as if the blade had tried to siphon my insides, sucking my very being from my body.

Except Ashe had defended me, pushing Aeternaphiel far enough back that the blade only struck Eris.

I struggle upwards, Josephine quickly helping shift Ashe’s arm, until I’m sitting up against a gray headboard. I look down at my husband, but I don’t have the enhanced eyesight that vampires do.

“Is he?” I can’t finish the question, my eyes never leaving his relaxed face.

“He’ll be okay,” Josephine answers, moving his arm until it’s draped over my lap and adjusting the plush blanket until Ashe is tucked back in. Josephine’s fussing brings a small smile to my lips. Things change over time, but Josephine’s need to fuss and take care of those around her never will.

“And you?”

Her question has my vision unfocusing as I search for Eris within me. I’ve never woken with full control of my body, so for her to not be shouting in my mind is concerning. Josephine is quiet while I search the recesses of my mind. It’s as if I’m walking through an empty home, knowing someone is missing but not knowing where they went.

I search deeper, drawing on my experience as a witch to dive into the depths of my being. I cry out, Josephine’s hands bracing my upper arms and I cling to her for support. If I’d been standing, I’m certain my knees would have given out.

“Cassandra?” The matronly vampire’s voice is insistent.

“Something—something is wrong with Eris.” I pry my eyes open and meet Josephine’s worried gaze. “She’s—” A gag cuts my words off and I turn to the side but nothing comes up. My stomach cramps as I heave again, my insides cramping as fire fills my stomach.

Strong hands grip my shoulders, an achingly familiar weight presses against my back. Ashe slides an arm around my chest, offering me a brace as my body struggles.

“I’ve got you.” The steady tenor of his voice wraps around me like a warm blanket on a winter night. I grip his arm with one hand, anchoring myself to him while I’m tossed about in a torrent of pain.

“Ashe,” I say when the pain finally retreats into the depths of my being.

“I’m here,” he says again, with such heartbreaking tenderness tears slip down my cheeks. I turn my head towards him and then he’s lifting and moving me until I’m cradled against his chest. He rubs my back and I tuck my head under his chin. “Do you know what’s happening?”

Rigors shake my body, and he holds me tighter while I grip his white shirt in a tight fist, riding it out.

“Something is wrong with Eris,” I manage to say. “With me.”

Ashe is quiet for a long moment, and I focus on his slow heartbeat under my ear. If I can keep focused on the sound, the sheer wrongness at my core won’t drag me under.

“What do you need?” he asks at last, his trust in me undeserving. Not after what I’d done. Guilt threatens to overwhelm me just as quickly as the pain and I grit my teeth, forcing my thoughts to clear. I think about everything I’d learned as a witch, then everything I’d seen while Eris possessed and controlled my body.

I find Josephine, now standing at the edge of the bed. “I need a sachet of lavender, salt, St. John’s Wort, and white sage if you have it.”

Josephine gives me a firm nod before hurrying from the room. I let out a breath as the pain continues to fade, wilting against Ashe.

Ashe. My husband. My mate. The man I’ve spent over a century and a half locked away from by my own decision. A decision that I’d make again and again, as long as it saved his life.

“Cassandra,” he murmurs. “Tell me what’s going on. Where’s Eris?” A growl rumbles from his chest and through me. “I remember that bastard trying to stab you with a sword, but I got to him before he could. You still went down, though.” His arms tighten around me, his fingers digging into me as fear colors his words. “Then they took me down. I had to wake up with Malachi’s damn face in mine.”

Ashe tries for levity and while it falls flat, my lips curve in a sad smile. I match his tone; I don’t have the energy to deal with the threat growing deep inside.

“Oh, such a horrible experience for you,” I tease. My voice is still rough, and I’m jostled as Ashe reaches for the water Josephine left on the nightstand. He helps me hold it steady as I drink, managing the flimsy-feeling straw without too much awkwardness. When I’ve had enough, he returns it quickly. His hand goes to my thigh, gripping me as if afraid I’ll disappear at any moment. To be fair, Eris never gave warning to when she’d return and take over once more.

“I don’t know for sure,” I admit, rolling my lips. I lean my head against his shoulder again, telling myself it’s because I’m exhausted and not because I’m afraid to look my mate in the face. “But whatever that blade was, it hurt Eris. A part of her is missing.” I rub the space over my heart with the heel of my palm.

Ashe is preternaturally still around me, practically holding his breath. “Does that mean...”

He trails off but I don’t need him to finish the question. I take a deep breath, bracing myself. “The bargain is still there. There’s enough of her within me that the bindings still tie us together.”

Ashe hisses and drops his head against mine as he wrangles with his disappointment. I can’t feel him through our mate bond, but I don’t need to. It oozes from every pore. He’d locked the mate bond down when it was clear Eris had possessed me and hasn’t opened it since.

I can hardly judge him for such a punishment. Not after I’d done the same the night I betrayed him.

I stroke the arm holding my legs to him, soothing both of us. I feel every soft hair on his arm, refamiliarizing myself with the strength of him as I ghost my fingers over him. For so long, I’ve lacked this freedom.

Eris, bound by the terms of our bargain, allowed me time in control to maintain the integrity of my mind and humanity. There was never consistency, though. I never knew when I’d have the opportunity to soak Ashe in, to remind him of my love, to apologize again, to steal anything that could keep me strong through the years of separation.

There’d been a time when Eris’s frustrations with her failing hunt turned to doubt, which fed into my own. A demon would never willingly give up a bargain, and as much as Eris and I’ve shared together, Kasar is right when he said Eris knows nothing of compassion. Eris will never break the bargain.

Tendrils of shame and guilt creep into my thoughts and around my heart, making my breath stutter in my chest.

“I’m so sorry,” I breathe out in a rush. It’s the same lament, the same thing I say almost every chance I have. “I know you can never forgive me, but I couldn’t let you die.”

Ashe freezes and while he doesn’t move, I practically feel him withdrawing from me.

“This isn’t the time.” His voice is firm, borderline sharp. “We need to figure out what Aeternaphiel did to you and Eris first. Then we’ll find him again and finish this at last.”

I open my mouth to protest, but what can I say? A foreboding grows in the pit of my stomach, my magic warning me that we don’t have as much time as we hope. Something has happened to Eris, and it’s hurting me too because of how entwined the demon and I are.

The door opens, preventing me from saying anything else. Josephine hurries in, sachet in hand. A flutter of warm and fondness fills me at the sight of the familiar satchel as she holds it out.

“I’ve kept all of your workroom supplies in pristine condition,” she admits with a beaming smile, before it falters and her brow furrows. “Well, all those that survived the fire. Still.” Josephine leans over the bed, straightening the blankets over us and plumping the pillow behind Ashe. “I always knew you’d need them when you returned to us.”

“She wasn’t on a vacation, Matka,” a languid drawl came from the doorway. I tuck the sachet close to my chest and look at the platinum blond man leaning against the door frame, hands casually tucked into slacks.

“Landon.” I purse my lips after saying his name. Then I raise a brow. “Still annoying as always?”

He cocks his head as if confused. “I believe you mean charming.”

I smile sweetly, falling back into the familiar banter with ease. “As a snake, of course.”

Ashe says nothing, and more than ever, I wish he’d open his side of the mate bond. I need to know he’s okay.

Landon pushes off and straightens, cocking a brow. “Don’t let my mate hear you,” he starts before Josephine cuts her hand through the air with a chastising glare between the two of us.

“Do not start,” she warns us with a pointed finger. “Cassandra has only just woken up and something still ails her. I do not have the patience for your childish squabbles.”

There’s always been something more intimidating about Josephine than the head of the Nightshades. Maybe it was the fact that she’d been turned when her hair was already silver, her mortal years lining her elegant face. Ambrose has always appeared in his thirties, a man in his prime. Josephine, between her gray Victorianesque dresses and her matronly manners, has always been able to bring even the most stubborn of vampires to heel.

To my genuine surprise, Lan moves to stand beside his mother. Something that could be concern—but more likely intrigue, softens his face. I practically gape, unfamiliar with this version of the vampire.

He gives me an exaggerated sarcastic smirk. “Don’t be so surprised.” His words are clipped as he studies me intently. He says nothing and his gaze goes over my head to Ashe. “What do you feel through the bond?”

I startle. I hadn’t even considered asking Ashe to lower his mental block. I will never ask him to, even though I’m desperate to feel as close to him as we once were. I don’t move as I wait for Ashe to say something, to do something—anything.

He tightens his hold and moves me until I’m on the bed beside him. Reflexively, I look at him but only catch a glint of his golden eyes as he slides out of the bed on the other side. He’s wearing a white shirt that hugs his shoulders and is loose around his narrow waist, and soft charcoal gray sleep pants. Ashe runs a hand through his sandy-brown locks, pushing the strands back off his forehead.

He strides towards a door in the wall, pausing as he grabs the handle. He casts a look over his shoulder, but at Landon. I grip the covers, silently pleading for him to look at me. To give me something.

“Nothing. Like usual,” he answers, his voice rough. He clears his throat. “I need to shower. I have work to do for Ambrose, and Cassandra doesn’t need my help to determine what’s wrong.”

He slips into the en suite bathroom, closing the door solidly behind him. The soft tick of the lock makes me wince. Lan releases an amused huff and I quell him with a sharp glare. His lips twist up in a smirk and he spins back around towards the bedroom door.

“I’m off to kiss my mate,” he informs us, the dig obvious.

Josephine sighs, the sound of an exasperated mother. I slump against the headboard, still holding the sachet against my chest. It offers a small barrier of protection against the foul darkness twisting through me but it’s not a solution.

Josephine squeezes my shoulder, and I can’t look at her. I can’t see the pity in her eyes, or I’ll lose it. Even now, I’m fighting back a torrent of tears building behind my eyes, the sorrow choking my heart.

“He’ll come around,” she assures me, like any good mother. “He just needs time. You both do.”

I nod, unable to speak as I stare unfocused at the end of the bed. Josephine seems to know I don’t want to talk, and she gives me another squeeze before heading out.

“I’ll get you something to eat and I’m sure one of the ladies has something you can wear,” she says, all pity replaced by the frank decisiveness she’d always run the household with.

When I’m alone, I let my head fall back with a clunk on the headboard. Josephine is right. Ashe and I both need time. Something that I may not have very much of.