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“Forget about my plans of war. Forget I have possession of the blade.”
His voice fills my head, drowning everything else out. Forget about the war. Forget about…
What blade?
“Blade?” The word sounds strange—like when you say a word too many times and it starts to lose its meaning.
I fight to hold onto it.
I don’t know why, but it seems important.
Blade.
The sunstone dagger! I can’t forget—I won’t.
“Forget what I said about Egan and war,” Sebastian coaxes again. “Forget about the dagger.”
Forget about the—about the… the…
I blink, inhaling a deep breath when Sebastian releases his hold and stands up. I bolt upright and immediately double over as my insides turn over. My stomach churns and there’s a good possibility I might hurl on the office floor.
“What the—what the fuck, Bas?”
“I only took what was necessary. I need you to trust me?—”
“Trust you? That’s a fuckin’ joke, right? You’re seriously talking to me about trust right after breaking mine?”
“I’ll let you remember when it’s safe.”
I put distance between the two of us and move toward the door. “If you trusted me, you wouldn’t have stolen my memory in the first place. What did you take?”
“Nothing you’ll miss. I swear.”
“I can’t fucking believe you’d wipe me. Me of all people. I’m your right hand for fuck’s sake.”
He turns to face me, his palms planted on his desk. “Do you think I would have done it if there was any other way? Some things are bigger than your feelings, Viking.”
I want to tackle him to the floor, to pound my hurt and frustration out on him, but it won’t change anything.
My sire is well and truly lost.
“Fuck you, Sebastian.”
I leave as quickly as I can. That seals it. The Sebastian I loved would never violate my trust by stealing my memories. I can’t even hold onto my anger as I realize that I’ve truly lost him.
Sebastian—my brother, my sire, my closest friend—is gone. There’s no denying it…and soon there will be no hiding it from the horde.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
FINN
I’m perched on the front stoop of the apothecary shop, the warm hues of the late afternoon sun spilling across the cobblestones of the French Quarter.
Inside, the rhythmic clinking of bottles and the faint hum of Josie’s incantations drift out, blending with the emerging buzz of the city as New Orleans stirs to life.
Like yesterday, I work on centering myself. My dark side is restless and angry—angrier than I’ve ever been before.
I’m trying to tether the vampiric nature raging in my veins, but there’s a real possibility I could lose control for the first time in my very long life.
