Page 58 of Let Sleeping Vampires Lie

He didn’t like that answer, but he didn’t argue about it, with Raven in his arms and dawn creeping up behind us.

I walked beside him as we started back toward Shadow Bone, hand hovering near Raven’s arm, the echo of our shared power still tingling along my skin.

Her bond with Rene felt stronger now.

Not fixed. Not whole.

By the time we reached the back steps of Shadow Bone, the ground felt less like earth and more like something gently rolling under my feet.

At first, I thought it was just the adrenaline drop. The comedown after a fight was always a little rough. Muscles trembled, senses dulled, focus blurred. Standard.

But this felt different.

A slow, creeping warmth had begun to coil low in my chest, spreading out along my ribs like someone had lit coals under my skin. It wasn’t the sharp, electric rush of magic—I knew that feeling too well. This was heavier. Thicker. It made my breaths feel a fraction too deep, my limbs a fraction too slow.

I walked beside Con as he carried Raven, one arm around her knees, the other supporting her shoulders. Her head lolled lightly against his chest, eyes half-lidded but still conscious. She clung to his coat with one hand, the other pressed weakly against her sensitive side.

“You still with us?” I asked.

“Unfortunately,” she mumbled.

“Good. Stay that way.”

We crossed the threshold into the mansion. The foyer lights were turned down low, casting everything in soft-gold and shadow. The familiar scent of old stone, wood polish, and lingering incense hit me, and for a moment I felt oddly disconnected from it all, like I was stepping into someone else’s home.

The warmth inside me climbed another notch.

Each step up the stairs felt longer than the last. I kept one hand lightly on the rail, more for balance than vanity. Con glanced sideways at me once, eyes flicking over my face.

“You look pale,” he said.

“I’m always pale,” I answered. Even to my own ears it sounded strained.

“Paler,” he clarified.

“Focus on Raven,” I muttered. “I can still walk.”

He didn’t argue, which meant he didn’t believe me.

We made it to Raven and Rene’s suite without collapsing, which I considered a win in my present state. Con nudged the door open with a boot. Inside, the room was dim and still. Rene lay on the large bed, skin nearly as white as the sheets, chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths.

Even weakened, his presence filled the room—a pressure in the air, like the remnants of a storm.

Raven stirred, trying to twist toward him. “Put me down,” she whispered.

Con crossed to the bed and gently lowered her onto the mattress beside Rene. She winced as the motion tugged at her side, but she immediately reached for his hand, lacing her fingers through his.

“I’m here,” she murmured, voice thin but steady. “I’m not going anywhere, you stubborn bastard.”

Rene didn’t wake, but his fingers twitched around hers.

I felt their bond flare, then settle into a low, pained thrum.

The heat inside my chest spiked again. The coals turned to embers, spreading into my arms and legs. My vision fuzzed at the edges for a heartbeat before snapping back into focus.

Raven’s eyes slid to me. She frowned.

“You don’t look so hot,” she said.