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It’s not as though he can hide it. The unity bond between Rune and Josephine has left an indelible mark on both of them.
I can almost taste the electric charge that lingers in their wake.
Rune’s hold tightens on Josephine, and I’m met with a harsh stare. “Are you suggesting I should’ve asked Finn’s permission? Josie is as much mine as she is his.”
I raise a curious brow. “Is she? Does Fintan’s hold on her remain?”
“Josie can still feel her and Finn’s connection. Looks like he was wrong about only one of us being able to complete the bond with her.”
“We don’t know that yet. At this point, everything is up in the air.”
“Do you smell that, my love?” Manon’s breath whispers in my ear, her body pressing into me from behind.
I inhale deeply and regret it.
Blood.
All of my senses scream for it, every atom of my being straining to get at the faint trickle of fresh blood at Josephine’s throat. My gaze focuses on the pink fang marks newly healed on the witch’s neck, my heightened hearing tracking the steady thumping of her pulse just beneath.
It doesn’t matter how much I try to deny it to myself—I want to taste her. I want to tear my fangs into the soft flesh until she screams, and—fuck. I wince as I bite down on my tongue, steering my thoughts of murder and carnage to an abrupt halt as I taste blood.
“Bas? You good?” Rune takes a step forward, but I put up my hand and stop him from coming any closer.
I can’t handle another whiff of Josephine’s blood. I’m barely holding it together as is. “Put the witch to bed and meet Fintan and me in the library, where you were meant to be an hour ago.”
“You got it, boss,” he says, the response almost robotic despite the spark of defiance in his red-eyed stare.
“The Dumont witch is quickly building a wedge between you and yours, Sebastian,” Manon whispers to me. Her breath is cool against my skin and sends a shiver down my spine.
I stab my tongue up into my fang, hoping the pain will block my sire out completely. It doesn’t.
“Eventually, they will both leave you for her,” Manon taunts, “and then you will be alone. Truly alone. A mad king, with all the riches and power he could want, and yet left with nothing.”
I turn and leave, using my full speed, eager to put as much distance between myself and temptation as I can.
Temptation or damnation?
The scent of Josephine’s magically potent blood still clings to my nostrils when I burst into the library, the suddenness of my entrance stirring up a flurry of loose papers scattered across the floor.
Thankfully, the only thing to hurt in here is an endless supply of books. Though something tells me ripping through the flimsy paper of even the thickest tome will do nothing to erase my need to have Josephine’s blood slicking down my throat.
For whatever reason, Manon didn’t follow me back to the hotel. I know better than to think that means she’s gone. She hasn’t given me more than a day’s rest in twenty-five years. That won’t change simply because I’ve opted to ignore her.
I wish it were that easy.
Following the consistent thwick of flipping pages, I delve further into the library. The room is nearly pitch dark with so many floor-to-ceiling shelves crammed into the space, all of them packed with so many books they spill onto the floor, stacks of them piled in towers that reach my chin.
I will never understand how or why Fintan spends hours, sometimes days, locked away in here. There is barely room to stand up, let alone move around.
The room is jammed with so much knowledge I have to shimmy sideways between two shelves. It’s how I imagine Finn’s mind looks on the inside.
I find him on the floor in his usual spot, tucked up against a blacked-out window in the back corner, a spread of books and pages fanned out in a semi-circle around him.
“Where’s Rune?” he asks without looking up from where he’s furiously flipping through the pages of two books simultaneously, unblinking eyes flicking back and forth, devouring the words with impressive speed.
“On his way. Have you found anything?”
“Not yet.”
