Page 12 of Curiosity Killed The Vampire

He stepped closer until I could feel the familiar ripple of his energy, that quiet charge that always surrounded him like heat from a forge. “Cass,” he said softly, “Lilah isn’t serious.”

I looked up at him. “You sound sure.”

“I am.” His tone didn’t waver. “She was trying to get a rise out of you. That’s what she does—tests boundaries, looks for reactions. You’re the one she really wanted to provoke.”

My stomach twisted. “Why would she do that?”

He tilted his head slightly, studying me the way he did in combat—like he was gauging exactly how close I was to breaking. “Because she envies you,” he said. “All of them do.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “The death dealers?”

“All of them,” he said. “Especially the women. You’ve earned what most of them never will—command, trust, power. You don’t bow, you don’t flirt for favor, and you’ve got Rene’s backing and mine. That makes you a target for jealousy, Cass. Not just admiration.”

I let his words sink in, the logic undeniable—but the ache in my chest didn’t ease. “Maybe,” I said quietly, “but it doesn’t change the fact that she said what she said.”

“She said it because she wanted to see if you’d flinch,” he countered. “She thought she could unnerve you.” His voice softened. “You shouldn’t give her that satisfaction.”

I wanted to believe him. I really did. He was calm, certain, as if none of this touched him at all—and maybe it didn’t. Maybe that was what bothered me most.

I leaned back, folding my arms. “You’re probably right.”

“I usually am,” he said, a smile ghosting across his mouth.

I tried to return it, but my heart wasn’t in it. I wasn’t used to this kind of vulnerability—to feeling like I’d lost control of something I didn’t even know I cared about. I’d built walls so high that nothing got through… until him. And now the cracks were starting to show.

He must have seen something in my face because his expression softened again. “Cass,” he said, stepping close enough that his voice dropped to something only I could hear, “you don’t have to be jealous.”

“I’m not,” I said quickly—too quickly.

His eyes searched mine, quiet and knowing. He didn’t press the point, but the silence said enough.

And maybe that was the worst part—because I didn’t have the right to be jealous. Not of him, not of anyone. We weren’t that. I was his partner, his ally, maybe something more in another life—but not here, not now.

He reached out, brushed his fingers lightly against my arm—a small, grounding touch that sent warmth through me. “Get some rest,” he said softly. “You’ve been through enough tonight.”

I nodded, though I wasn’t sure rest was possible anymore.

He turned toward the door, hesitated just long enough to look back, and for a fleeting second, I thought I saw something in his eyes—something that mirrored the same impossible emotion clawing at me. Then the moment passed.

When the door closed behind him, the silence returned, heavier than before.

I stood there a long time, staring at the imprint of his touch on my arm, and told myself the same lie I’d told a hundred times before⁠—

that I didn’t feel a thing.

CHAPTER 4

Dusk had settled over Shadow Bone like a slow-moving tide, the lavender light from the setting sun seeping through the tall windows of my suite. Shadows stretched long and thin across the room, wrapping the edges of the walls in quiet calm. I sat at my desk, staring down at the crystal decanter that held my last ration of blood.

The dark liquid glimmered in the lamplight. I poured a measure into a glass, the scent metallic and familiar, grounding me in a way little else could. The first sip burned down my throat, clean and potent, the taste of life and control. It steadied me, washing away the tension that had been coiled in my chest since the night before.

I’d spent most of the day with Raven and Rene, keeping my voice even and my expression composed while the overseer’s skin grew more pallid by the hour. Raven had tried to make small talk, to pretend things were fine, but the fear in her eyes told the truth neither of us wanted to say aloud.

Now, back in my room, I was grateful for the solitude. The stillness. The absence of him.

I’d avoided Constantine all day, convincing myself I was too busy to cross paths. The truth was simpler—I didn’t want to see him. Not after the way he’d stood in my suite, calm and unshaken while I drowned in a storm I couldn’t name.

He’d likely trained Lilah since then. Of course he had. The thought crawled under my skin. Every death dealer in the compound had probably shown up to watch—everyone except me.