Page 56 of Curiosity Killed The Vampire

I stopped in the center of the vast space, staring up at the vaulted ceiling, trying to pull air into my lungs that didn’t burn with anger. The cool draft bit at my skin, but even that couldn’t ground me. My magic churned beneath the surface, restless, humming just under the fragile layer of my control. It wanted out—wanted to lash, to do something destructive.

I pressed my palm to my sternum, trying to quiet it. The energy crackled against my hand, lightning coiled under flesh, responding to my pulse.

I hated how exposed I felt.

Hated that every emotion fed the magic until it vibrated through me like a living creature.

And yet, beneath all that fury, another thought burrowed in—one I couldn’t shake no matter how hard I tried.

Last night.

I still felt him—Con—like a phantom heat imprinted under my skin, his voice echoing in the back of my mind. That connection, that impossible pull—the one that made me feel seen and unraveled at the same time. I’d lowered my defenses. On purpose.

I’d known the risks. I always did.

And in a single night, he’d made me feel something I despised more than fear—dependence. Need.

I clenched my hands at my sides until my nails dug crescents into my palms. “Damn you, Constantine,” I muttered, the words low but edged with too much truth.

“Cassara?”

The voice snapped me out of my spiraling thoughts. I turned to find Emmett, the clan leader, standing at the foot of the grand staircase. His expression was polite, composed as always, but a slight tightness around his eyes gave him away. He held a clipboard, which meant this wasn’t a social call.

“What is it, Emmett?” I asked, my tone clipped.

He hesitated a beat too long. “I wanted to confirm… Constantine’s belongings. Have they already been moved to your suite, or shall I arrange it?”

I blinked. “His what?”

“His effects,” Emmett said, glancing at the clipboard. “Weapons, field gear, and several personal items. He sent word this morning that he was relocating to the quarters in your wing. He specifically requested the room adjoining yours.”

My stomach dropped. “He what?”

Emmett looked up, clearly sensing the shift in my mood. “Is there a problem? He said it was authorized.”

The pulse of my magic spiked so abruptly it rattled the chandelier overhead. The lights flickered, shadows lurching across the marble walls. I exhaled through my teeth, trying to leash it, but the power only answered to the chaos inside me.

“He didn’t ask me,” I said, my voice low, dangerously even.

“I… assumed it was arranged between you,” Emmett said carefully.

Of course he had. To anyone else, it would make perfect sense—Con and I fought together, led together, operated as a unit. It would seem logical. But logic didn’t explain why he’d walked out of my bed without a word only to decide, hours later, that he was moving into my space.

A humorless laugh escaped me—short and sharp. “No, Emmett. It wasn’t.”

He stepped back slightly, unsure whether my anger was directed at him. “Shall I cancel the transfer, then?”

I forced my fists to unclench, though the air still trembled with restrained power. “No. Leave it.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes,” I said, maybe too quickly. “If he wants to play domestic, let him. He’ll learn soon enough that I’m not someone who shares walls easily.”

Emmett hesitated, clearly wanting to offer counsel, but one look at my face stopped him. “Very well, Cassara,” he said finally, bowing before retreating down the east corridor.

When he disappeared, the silence returned—but this time it vibrated, alive and electric.

I stood in the foyer, every muscle taut, the magic under my skin refusing to settle. I wanted to scream. To scorch something. To drag Con into the hallway and demand what game he thought he was playing.