Amara’s POV
I stared directly into Prince Killian’s burning crimson eyes.
Despite the rage coursing through my veins, my traitorous body responded to his presence.
When I reluctantly placed my hand over his, I felt it immediately.
The blood bond between us pulsed with dark energy, and my pain began to ebb.
That otherworldly heat flowed from his pale fingers into mine, settling into the cast around my wrist, and the throbbing quieted by several degrees.
“This is what the blood bond does,” he said flatly, his voice devoid of emotion.
“A pureblood with their destined mate.
Touch accelerates healing through shared life force.
The closer the contact, the faster the recovery.
Hospital beds in our realm are designed wide enough for both bonded partners for precisely this reason.”
I stared at our intertwined hands, his marble-white skin against my own.
“Why are you explaining this to me.”
“Because you should understand what you are.
What we are bound to become.”
“We are nothing.”
His fingers tightened around mine.
Not painfully.
Just possessively there.
Then I caught it.
Beneath the sharp antiseptic scent of the hospital.
Beneath his expensive cologne that reeked of old money and ancient bloodlines.
Beneath the leather of his designer coat.
Perfume.
Sweet.
Intoxicating.
Distinctly feminine.
Lydia.
My stomach lurched violently.
Deep in my mind, Mist let out a long, keening wail that had no words, only pure anguish.
I jerked my hand away from his.
I stood abruptly.
My fractured ankle screamed in protest.
I kept my expression carefully neutral.
Walking to the cabinet above the small sink, I reached up and pulled down the pack of cigarettes my mother kept hidden behind the medical supplies.
I extracted one cigarette.
I did not light it.
I held it between two fingers and looked at him over it.
“Get out.”
“Put that down immediately.”
“Get out of my room.”
He remained motionless, his predatory gaze fixed on me.
“You reek of her,” I said, my voice coming out level and controlled.
I was proud of maintaining that composure.
“Her scent is all over your coat.
Your hands.
Probably your mouth too.
You sat here holding my hand after feeding from her veins.”
“Amara.”
“Your own rule, Prince.” I rolled the cigarette between my thumb and finger.
“You decreed that I was forbidden from entertaining other males.
You demanded absolute exclusivity from me.
You made me swear a blood oath.
So end things with her.”
His entire body went rigid.
“End it with her,” I repeated firmly.
“Tonight.
Or admit your own decree is worthless hypocrisy.”
“No.”
Just that single, cold word.
A bitter laugh almost escaped me.
What emerged was something far more dangerous.
“No,” I echoed mockingly.
“Lydia and I have been together a long time.
Her family’s alliance—”
“I could not care less about her family’s political connections.”
“You will care when blood wars come to our clan.”
“Then break your bond with her for a while.
A brief moment.
Just long enough to come to me without her essence coating your skin.
Long enough to pretend I am worth that minor inconvenience.”
His jaw worked tensely.
His eyes shifted from green to amber and back again as his vampire nature warred with his human facade.
“I will not abandon her, Amara.”
“Why.”
He looked at me for a long, tense moment.
Then he delivered the killing blow, soft and clear and devastating, the way a predator slides silver through flesh so cleanly you don’t realize you’re bleeding until it’s too late.
“I love her.”
The cigarette snapped cleanly in half between my fingers.
The words hit me like a physical assault.
I felt the impact deep in the hollow beneath my ribs, where Mist resided, and my vampire spirit curled in on herself and howled in devastating pain.
I shoved her anguish down brutally.
I slammed the mental door on her suffering, suppressing every trace of Mist’s agony.
I transformed my face into an emotionless mask, cold and distant as winter stone.
“Leave my room,” I commanded with icy authority.
“Prince Killian.”
He opened his mouth to speak.
“Leave.”
He departed without another word.
The door clicked shut behind him with finality.
I stood in the sterile hospital room with half a cigarette in each hand.
My knees trembled violently.
Then the tears came.
I wept standing upright, my back pressed against the cold sink, until my face was soaked and my throat felt raw and Mist had gone silent from sheer exhaustion deep in my consciousness.
Then I turned on the scalding water and stepped into the tiny shower stall.
I remained under the spray until it ran ice cold.
Afterwards, I methodically combed out my hair.
Platinum blonde, damp, cascading to my waist.
Knot by careful knot.
It gave me something concrete to focus on with my shaking hands.
It was late at night when I heard the key turning in the lock.
I had already returned to the narrow bed in a clean hospital gown.
My mother entered slowly.
She set down her worn purse on the counter as though it weighed more than she could bear.
She looked utterly exhausted, as if she might collapse at any moment.
When she turned and saw the bandages wrapped around my head, the cast encasing my arm, and the swelling around my fractured ankle, her face crumpled with horror.
“Amara.
My darling.
Dear God.”
“Mom—”
She crossed the room before I could sit up properly.
Her hands fluttered nervously, afraid to touch me and cause more damage.
“What happened to you.
Who did this to you—”
“I fell,” I lied smoothly, gently catching her trembling wrists.
“At the academy.
The stone steps near the training grounds.
My foot simply gave way.”
Her eyes searched mine desperately.
Wet with unshed tears.
Exhausted beyond measure.
She wanted so desperately to believe me it was painful to witness.
“The stone steps.”
“The steps.”
She sank down onto the bed beside me.
Her shoulders sagged inward.
I wrapped my uninjured arm around her frail frame.
“Mom,” I said, carefully steering the conversation elsewhere.
“Listen to me.”
“Mm.”
“I received responses from the vampire academies across the territories.
Several have accepted my applications.”
She lifted her head to look at me.
“I want you to leave this clan with me.”
“Sweetheart—”
“Please listen.
The positions available there pay triple what you earn here.
Triple, Mom.
I researched it thoroughly.
You could work fewer hours.
You could finally get proper rest.”
Her eyes filled with fresh tears.
“Your father’s memorial stone—”
“I know.”
“I visit his grave regularly without fail.”
“I know, Mom.”
She remained quiet for a long time.
Her hand found mine and squeezed gently.
“I’ll consider it,” she whispered finally.
“I will.
I promise I’ll think about it seriously.”
She pressed a soft kiss to my hair.
She stood slowly, as if every bone in her body ached.
She made her way to the adjoining room to sleep, closing the door quietly.
Within minutes I heard what I heard every night through the thin walls.
The muffled sound of a woman weeping into her pillow on the empty side of a bed meant for two.
I lay back down on the narrow hospital mattress.
I stared at the ceiling tiles above me.
I thought about the secret blood bond I was keeping hidden.
About how Prince Killian’s father was responsible for my own father’s death.
About how if I revealed any of this truth to my mother, the last thread holding her sanity together would snap completely, and I had to remain silent to protect her fragile mental state.
I closed my eyes, eventually drifting into restless, troubled sleep.
Suddenly, I jolted awake in the darkest hours of night, seized by excruciating pain deep in my abdomen.
It came from somewhere profound inside me, a twisting, tearing agony that had nothing to do with any physical injury I had sustained.
It was worse than being beaten by five purebloods, worse than any blow a fist had ever delivered.
I tumbled from the bed, dropping to my hands and knees on the cold floor.
I grabbed my pillow and pressed my face into it, muffling my agonized screams as the blood bond betrayal sent waves of torment through every fiber of my being.