Page 52 of Fangs

“I will slaughter them,” my jaw locks, the words grinding out through clenched teeth. “Every single apex predator they send. But first, I need you away from here. Far away.” My thumb strokes the high curve of her cheekbone, shaking despite my centuries of cold malice. “I would burn this wretched world down to ash and cinder just to keep you breathing.”

The raw, desperate confession tears straight from my chest, heavier than the tomb I crawled out of.

Cursed

Blake stands by the window, silver hair spilling down his back like liquid moonlight. The dying sun paints his silhouette in shades of amber and rose, and for a moment, he looks mortal. Almost human.

I know better now.

The book rests on my lap, its pages open to the passage I found this morning. I have been reading it over and over, trying to make sense of the words, trying to understand what they mean for us.

“Did you ever have a mate?”

The question escapes before I can trap it. He turns, those violet eyes finding me in the dimming light.

“No.”

The word is flat. Final. And yet it stirs something in my chest—relief, perhaps. Or curiosity.

I press further. “Never? In three thousand years?”

He crosses to me, his movements fluid, deliberate. His hand cups my face, cold against my flushed skin. “Never. Vampires mate with humans by drinking from them repeatedly. The human must drink from the vampire in return. Their blood must intermingle. Combine. Become one.” His thumb traces my cheekbone. “Vampires almost never give their blood to humans. They see humans as inferior. As food. As playthings.”

“Pets,” I say, the word bitter on my tongue.

“Yes.” He strokes my cheek. “Vampires are moved by two rules only. Feed. And fuck. When a couple feeds from each other enough, the bond snaps. They must consummate it immediately. Fuck. Become one. If one dies, the other dies too.”

I shiver. “That sounds… permanent.”

“It is.” His eyes darken. “Vampires cannot drink from each other. Their blood is poison to one another. They cannot drink from a human who has been fed another vampire’s blood. Vampire blood is powerful. Dangerous.”

I look down at the book, at the passage I read this morning. My fingers trace the faded ink.

“I read about this,” I say. “This morning. In one of the books.”

I pull the volume from beneath my hand and flip to the marked page. The text is archaic, the language dense, but I have read it enough times that the words come easily now.

“Long before the continent split into different countries, there was only one land. The creatures of the land and the creatures of the sea. He is the darkness. They are the sun. The moonlight. His perfect mate is the sunshine. Together, they are one.”

I look up, meeting his eyes. “This is what you are talking about? You existed during this period?”

“Yes, Lucille.”

The confirmation lands like a stone in my chest. I swallow hard.

“That means I can never be your mate?”

His hand falls from my face. He turns away, pacing toward the window. The shadows in the corners stir, responding to his agitation.

“My blood is cursed,” he says. “Venomous in my veins. I cannot give it to you. I felt the mating bond the moment my fangs pierced your skin. I felt it at every thrust when I was inside you. But we cannot consummate it. Not while I am cursed.”

I rise from the chair, the book slipping from my lap. “Then break the curse.”

He laughs, but there is no humor in it. “There is no way, Lucille. The curse is beyond my magic. It is a frequency vampires cannot even grasp. Like trying to catch sunlight with bare hands.”

“Then what do we do?”

He turns to face me, and I see the weight of three thousand years in his eyes. “Mirrors are condensed prisms. Portals to infinite worlds and dimensions. My image is frozen in time here. My essence and power are fragmented. Neither the vampires who cast the spell nor any creature in this world has the power to undo it. You must travel to another dimension to even grasp it.”