Page 92 of Let Sleeping Vampires Lie

“Me?” I glanced at Constantine, then back at her. “Raven, I’m fine.”

Her stare sharpened. “Do not pretend with me, Cassara. You know I hate that.”

“Raven,” Constantine said in a warning tone. He shifted closer to my side, not quite touching me, but near enough that I could feel the heat from his body through my shirt.

She ignored him. “You’re not fine. And I need you to stop pretending you are so we can figure out what the hell is happening before it eats you alive.”

My chest tightened. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

Raven exhaled slowly, like she’d rehearsed this conversation a dozen times and hated it every time. She took a few steps further into the room, then turned to face us squarely.

“When I gave you my magic, it was supposed to be temporary,” she said. “A loan. You know that. I know that.”

“Yes.”

“And I anchored it to you through blood and intent, which is standard for a power share of that magnitude.” She rubbed her thumb along a shimmer on her wrist, the remnant of her own active sigils. “What’s not standard is how it feels now.”

“How what feels?” I asked carefully.

She met my gaze, and the hairs on the back of my neck lifted. “Your magic. Cassara, it doesn’t feel like a loan anymore. It feels like it’s becoming permanent.”

The room seemed to narrow, sound dulling at the edges. My heart gave a hard, uneven thump.

“That’s not possible,” Constantine said, voice going cold. “A power loan of that size burns itself out if it’s not drawn back. You would never risk severing your own access to magic.”

“I wouldn’t on purpose,” Raven snapped, then drew a breath, visibly reining herself in. “Believe me, Con, I have spent every waking hour checking on mine and Cassara’s bond. I’m telling you what I feel.”

She took a step toward me.

Instinctively, the power under my skin rose to the surface, responding to her proximity. It rippled along my nerves like heated ink, prickling my palms, hitching my breath. Raven’s pupils expanded, swallowing the color in her irises for a heartbeat, as if some part of her recognized and reached for the signature.

“There,” she said softly. “You feel that?”

I swallowed. “Yes.”

“It’s deeper than it was. The first time I tested it, it sat on top of you like a mantle. Heavy but separate. Now…” She lifted a hand, hesitated, then brushed her fingers along my forearm.

The contact sent a small shock through me. The power flared again, twisty and bright, reaching toward her like a plant seeking sunlight. For a second, I felt the echo of another heartbeat, slower and ancient, pulsing in time with my own.

Raven snatched her hand back, eyes wide. “That. That right there. It’s not just sitting on you anymore, Cass. It’s knitting into you. Rooting.”

My mouth felt dry. “Maybe that’s just… how it stabilizes.”

Her laugh held no humor. “You’re not a vessel, Cassara. You’re not a conduit. This isn’t how a loan behaves. This is how a transfer behaves.”

Constantine moved in front of me then, just a fraction, his presence a shield. “Are you saying you are losing permanent access to your power?”

“I’m saying if this keeps progressing, what I gave her might not come back,” Raven answered. “At least, not fully. It’s like I carved off a piece of myself. And now that piece is deciding it likes its new host.”

A flicker of anger pushed past the fear tightening my ribs and I stepped past Con. “So what? I’m stealing from you? Without meaning to?”

Raven’s expression softened. “No. This isn’t your fault.” Her gaze flickered toward the wall, toward where his room lay on the other side. “I knew the cost.”

“I thought it was temporary,” I insisted. “I would never have done it otherwise.”

Her mouth twisted. “I know, but the variables are different. We have Valerian’s interference, the compound in my veins, the way the clan network has been strained, the artifacts, the way power has been… rerouted lately. Everything is out of balance.”

My temper flared, a hot, protective surge. “Then we fix it. We find a way to restore your strength. Pull this out of me. Re-anchor it. I don’t care what it takes.”