Page 57 of Curiosity Killed The Vampire

Instead, I pulled in a long, trembling breath and let it out slowly. Sparks danced around my fingers like static.

One night, and he had managed to unmake me.

I looked toward the staircase leading to my suite. The thought of him—of his things already being delivered to the room beside mine—sent another hot rush through my bloodstream.

He’d left me. And now, somehow, he was moving in.

I rolled my shoulders back and started up the stairs, each step deliberate, the storm in me building with every move.

If Constantine Vonhof thought he could walk out of my bed and into my home like nothing had shifted, he was about to learn exactly how wrong he was.

I returned to my suite hoping the familiar space might calm me.

It didn’t.

I was pacing when the knock came—quick, too urgent. The air still hummed with the remnants of my anger as I opened the door. A young courier—barely older than a fledgling—bowed quickly, her face pale.

“Lady Cassara,” she said, breathless. “Constantine Vonhof requests your presence in the training hall immediately.”

Of course he did. Con never sent a note when he could send a summons.

“Tell him I’m coming,” I said, voice flat.

The girl nodded and darted away.

When I arrived at the practice room, the fury that had burned all morning had condensed into something colder, sharper. The heavy doors groaned open, releasing the familiar scent of steel, sweat, and magic. Overhead lamps washed the ring in pale light that gleamed off weapons lining the walls.

And there he was.

Con stood in the middle of the sparring ring, already geared—black leathers, vambraces, sword in hand. His dark hair was damp, his expression unreadable. The air around him felt charged, simmering with restrained intent.

When he lifted his gaze to mine, he smiled. “This is more like it.”

I strode forward, letting the doors slam shut behind me. “You called,” I said tartly.

He cocked his head, studying me, but didn’t rise to the provocation. I moved to the opposite edge of the ring and summoned my weapon. The spear slid into place with a whisper of metal.

My magic brushed it—just barely—and the air shivered. Weapons rattled on their mounts, some lifting before settling again. Blue-white light glinted around my fingers.

Con’s eyes flicked toward the disturbance. “It seems I’ve made a mistake,” he said quietly.

I spun the spear, leveling it at him. “Moving into my suite? Yeah, I’d say so.”

His mouth twitched, but his voice remained steady. “No. Leaving the bed before you woke.”

That stole my breath—just for a moment—but I masked it with a glare. “You made a choice.”

He began circling, sword low but ready, movements controlled and deliberate. “Yes—just not the one you assume. In battle, it’s tradition to take another’s duties when a comrade has been injured or drained. You needed rest. I ensured your recruits were trained.”

A bitter laugh tore from me. “You honestly expect me to believe you left because you wanted me to sleep?”

He didn’t answer. He kept circling, watching me with a predator’s patience.

“I’m not fragile,” I snapped. “And training is the last duty I’d ever give up.”

Con exhaled slowly. “It appears my error was greater than I realized.”

“You think?” My grip tightened. “You’re you, Con. You won’t change, and neither will I. It was stupid of me to think you would ever⁠—”