The machines beeped softly behind me, each rhythm a fragile reminder that he was still here — still fighting.
Cassian's grip on my hand was loose, but it was there. Warm. Alive. And slipping.
I turned to Tiffany, who stood at the foot of the hospital bed, arms wrapped around herself, biting her lip hard.
She looked small. Fierce. Scared.
"I need to talk to you," I said.
She blinked, startled. "Now?"
"Now."
She glanced back at her brother, then nodded. We slipped into the hallway just outside the trauma bay. It was quiet. Cold. My gloves were still damp from burn salve, but I ignored the sting.
Tiffany leaned against the wall. "Okay. What's going on? Is he going to die?"
"No." I took a breath. "Not if I help him."
"You mean, like... vampire help?"
I didn't flinch.
Her eyes widened. "You're not even denying it anymore."
"Because you already know." I folded my arms, cloak rustling faintly. "You've known since last night. You just didn't want to be right."
"Okay, fine. You're a vampire. That's... terrifyingly hot. But I'm dealing." She paused. "Is Cass—?"
"No. He's human. But he won't stay that way fully if I do what I'm about to suggest."
She straightened, her voice sharp. "What do you mean?"
"My blood," I said. "It heals. Rapidly. Even mortal wounds. But it comes with consequences."
"What kind of consequences?"
"We'd be... linked. Not just emotionally.Bonded."
She blinked. "Like vampire marriage or something?"
I shook my head. "Worse. Stronger. Permanent. He'd feel me—through the bond. Know when I'm near. When I'm in pain. He'd crave me. And I'd crave him back."
"Is that a sex thing?"
"It's aneverythingthing," I said tightly. "Physical. Emotional. Psychological. He'd never be free of me. And I wouldn't be free of him."
"...That's kind of hot."
"Tiffany."
"I'm just saying! Jesus, fine—but it would save his life?"
"Yes."
"But he's not dying."
"Not yet," I said. "But the internal bleeding hasn't stabilized. His rib could puncture his lung. If the surgery fails—if they're too late—I won't wait for a miracle. I'llbethe miracle."
She swallowed. "Would he become like you?"
"Not unless he drinksmybloodafterthe bond," I said. "Right now, it would only bind. Not turn."
Silence stretched between us.
Then Tiffany straightened, jaw tight. "You love him, don't you?"
"I do."
"And he loves you, I'm like 100% sure of that."
She studied me. "Then if it comes down to it... do it. I want him to live. Even if that means he's bound to some... immortal, brooding, blood-drinking milf."
"Thanks?" I said slowly.
She gave me a weak smile. "Just promise me something."
"Anything."
"If you ever turn him into a vampire, I swear to God, I better be the maid of honor at the blood-wedding."
I couldn't help the smile that tugged at my mouth.
"Deal."
The moment we slipped back into the trauma bay, I knew time was running out.
Cassian was paler than before. The line on the monitor tracking his vitals wavered—not dangerously, not yet—but enough to spike that ancient, feral panic in my chest. The doctors were still scrambling for a surgical window, but I knew how fragile he was. He was circling the drain. He didn't even know it.
I turned to Tiffany. "I need a syringe. Something sterile."
She blinked. "You want me to steal hospital equipment?"
"I want you to borrow it from someone too distracted to notice," I said. "You're young. They'll assume you're confused or panicking."
"Fair point," she muttered, already moving toward a nearby supply station.
I stood beside Cass, every instinct screaming at me to fix this now. I brushed a thumb over his temple, soft, reverent. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "You won't forgive me for this. Not right away."
But I wasn't asking for forgiveness.
Not if it meant saving him.
Tiffany returned a minute later, triumphant. She handed me a sealed syringe and glanced nervously toward the door. "No one saw. I think."
"Good." I peeled off one glove, exposing my wrist. The skin was still pink from the sun. Blistered in spots. It didn't matter.
I found the vein quickly. Centuries of practice.
One quick jab.
The syringe filled with deep crimson — richer than human blood, thick with magic and time and the weight of a thousand years I never wanted to burden him with.
"Are you sure this won't turn him into a vampire?" Tiffany whispered.
"Not unless he feeds from me after," I said. "And I won't let him."
"But this will bond you."
"Yes."
"You're really okay with that?"
I looked at her and nodded
She nodded slowly. "Then do it."
I knelt beside the bed, rolled back his lip gently, and uncapped the syringe. My hand trembled just once before I pressed the plunger and eased my blood into his mouth, bit by slow bit.
Cass didn't stir at first.
Then—
A twitch. A gasp. A soft, guttural sound that made Tiffany grip my arm.
The bond ignited like lightning in my veins. A tether snapping taut between us, unseen butalive. I felt him — not just his pulse, not just his body — buthim. His soul, anchoring itself to mine. Trusting me even in unconsciousness.
The blood vanished down his throat.
I pulled back.
Wiped his mouth.
Covered my wrist again.
And waited.
Cassian was still, but stronger now. His breathing steadier. His skin no longer ghost-white. Magic was already doing what medicine could not — repairing, sealing, healing.
I stood slowly, the room swaying for a moment as the bond clicked fully into place.
Tiffany looked up at me.
"What happens now?" she asked.
I stared down at the man who would wake up changed — not immortal, not turned, butconnectedto something far more dangerous than he realized.
Now?
I whispered, "Now we wait."
===================================================
I was floating.
That was the only way to describe it.
Like drifting through fog, untethered, heavy and light all at once. There was pain—distant and throbbing—but dulled, like it had been wrapped in cotton and set just far enough away that I couldn't quite reach it.
Then came the fire.
But it wasn't pain.
Not like before.
This was… life. Power. Something ancient and wild laced with heat and sweetness and a sharp, heady taste like lightning on my tongue. It slid into me slow, thick, and commanding, seeping into every crack, every bruise, every broken thing.
And then—
Her.
Sera.
Fuck.
I could feel her.
Not like before—this wasn't thinking about her. This wasn't missing her.
This was knowing her.
Seraphine.
I didn't see her. But Iknewshe was near. No one had said her name. No one had touched me.
But suddenly she waseverywhere.
I could smell her. That impossible mix of jasmine, old books, and the iron-rich kiss of blood.
I could hear her, too—her breath, shallow and tense. The soft rustle of her cloak. The sound of her heartbeat, steady and ancient and not-quite-human.
Her presence flooded me like a drug. Like drowning in silk and shadows and something colder than ice but warmer than fire. Every part of me ached for her, reached for her. Craved her.
What the fuck was happening to me?
And pain.
Holy shit. She was in pain.
My chest seized. My ribs protested, but I didn't care. Ifelther blistered skin. The sting of the sun on her face. The burn on her arms. Her exhaustion. Her grief. Her love.
Her love.
It crashed into me like a goddamn freight train.
No wonder she'd been trembling. No wonder she looked like she'd stood through hell and came back clawing. She had.
For me.
Her pain scraped down my nerves like razors. Her guilt pressed against my chest, thick and cold. I wanted to reach out and tell her to stop—that I was okay, or at least close enough—but my voice wouldn't cooperate.
Instead, I just lay there, letting her wash over me like a goddamn tidal wave.
I tried to think. Tried to make sense of why my body was humming with something unfamiliar and ancient, why her scent was embedded in my brain like a brand, why everything Iwassuddenly pointed in her direction like a compass gone mad.
All I could think—through the heat, the magic, the absolute holy-shit-what-is-this of it all—was her. Holding my hand. Whispering apologies into my skin. The weight of her watching over me.
The woman who'd run through daylight to get to me.
Who blistered under the sun.
Who was dying by degrees while I lay broken in a hospital bed, and still didn't hesitate.
Lady Seraphine D'Argent.
Immortal. Blood-drinker. Moonlight incarnate.
Mine.
She hadn't said it, not in so many words, but Iknewit now. Because Ifeltit now.
She was mine.
And somehow… I was hers.
Even unconscious, even fragile and stuck between life and death—my body knew her. Reached for her. Anchored to her like a goddamn magnet.
I shifted slightly, a groan escaping my throat. Muscles knit. Bones shifted. The pain was already fading, replaced by heat and power and her.
Always her.
Somewhere outside the fog, I felt her hand on my skin. Soft. Steady. Cool like stone.
And I breathed, deep and slow, tasting the bond like wine, like wildfire.
Sera.
I was coming back.
And I was never letting go.