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“If I keep taking from you the way I want to,” Mathias continued, voice low, “your mind will start to fray. Slowly at first. Lost time. Gaps in memory. Then the need becomes the only thing left. I’ve seen it happen. I will not watch it happen to you.”

Carson’s throat moved as he swallowed. “And becoming like you?”

“A three-night ritual. Drain, exchange, seal under moonlight. More than half never rise. Of those who do, many come back wrong. I won’t risk that unless you asked for it with a clear head—and even then I’m not certain I could survive watching you die in the attempt.”

Silence settled between them.

Carson’s voice was almost a sigh. “The sun. You keep talking about it like it’s getting worse.”

Mathias held his gaze. “It is. My attachment to you has made her louder anytime I’m not with you. Every time I choose you, every time I feel something I was never meant to feel again, she pulls harder. One day she may win. You need to know that before you decide to stay.”

Carson leaned forwards until their foreheads touched. His breath was warm against Mathias’ mouth.

“I already decided,” he said. “I’m still here.”

Mathias closed his eyes and pulled him in, holding on with desperation he rarely allowed himself. Carson clung back just as tightly.

Outside, the rain continued to fall. Inside, the truth finally sat between them—heavy, incomplete, and irreversible.

***

Carson had fallen into an exhausted sleep against his chest. Mathias remained awake, staring at the dark ceiling, listening to the steady human heartbeat that had become both anchor and threat.

The Sun’s Call was louder than it had been in years.

It no longer spoke subtly, instead communicating with terrible clarity. You told him the truth. He stayed anyway. Every night you keep him is another step closer to the light. You will burn for this. You will make him watch.

Mathias closed his eyes and tightened his arms around Carson’s warm body. The bond pulsed between them—alive, defiant, even now rewriting the shape of his existence. He had spent decades managing the Call, bargaining with it, outlasting it.

Now he understood the new terms.

The sun would not simply claim him one day. It would make him pay for every moment of borrowed warmth first.

Chapter Thirteen

Mathias

Mathias stood at the shadowed edge of the warehouse roof, the night air cool against his skin but offering no true relief. Below, the city lights blurred into a tempting haze, but it was the horizon that called to him—the first faint promise of dawn. The sun’s whisper grew louder the longer he was away from Carson, insidious promises threading through his mind like silk over a blade: Step into my light. Find peace. End the ache. His deep attachment to Carson seemed to accelerate everything. The soul-mate bond that paused her harvest for brief, blissful moments now fed her hunger, emotional vulnerability turning the slow tug into a relentless pull.

He clenched his fists, fingernails digging into his palms. The rigid rules about no needless kills kept the camp stable, but this? His bond with Carson was different. Still, he knew loving Carson might kill him faster than any rogue or rival.

Gina found him there, her footsteps silent until she pressed close, one hand resting on his arm. “Brother,” she murmured, her voice a quiet force laced with urgency. “You feel it. The sun harvests the aged ones first, those who let emotion weaken their hold. Turn him, or let him go. You know the taboos—whelps break when the bond is flawed. Elias taught you that. Don’t condemn yourself to the same cinders for this human.”

Mathias turned on her, eyes flashing. “He is not a tool for your stability, Gina. He is mine.”

She smiled sadly. “For now. But the camp sees the weakness. Rival territories press closer every night. Choose, Mathias. Before she chooses for you.”

***

Rolf

Rolf lingered on the outskirts of the warehouse district, crouched in the shadow of a crumbling wall. He had been feeding sporadically on the edges of a local homeless encampment—quick, careful draws from men and women half-lost to the streets. It kept the worst of the hunger at bay, but the humans were growing suspicious. Too many woke from the same vivid, exotic dreams: a low, strained voice promising safety, strong hands holding them close, a sense of being wanted in a world that had discarded them. Rolf realized with a bitter twist of his mouth that through the blood connection, he only ever projected one thing.

Mathias.

Even now, as he withdrew his fangs from the neck of a sleeping man, he caught a fleeting glimpse inside the thrall’s mind—and there was his sire, steady and commanding, offering shelter in the darkness. The image sent a pang through Rolf’s chest.

He had begun his exile burning with anger, furious at being cast out like some uncontrollable whelp. But the longer he stayed away from Joe, the clearer his mind became. The obsessive fog lifted. Mathias had known exactly what Rolf was becoming and had acted to protect them all. Rolf wasn’t angry anymore. He was simply waiting. Marking time until the moon turned and his thirty nights ended.