Chapter 44 44. Chapter
Aurora
The bathroom door opened softly, breaking the spiral of my thoughts. Elijah stepped out, his sleeves rolled up, water still glistening on his forearms. Steam followed him into the room, carrying not the scent of soap, but something heavier. Herbal. Earthy.
“The water is ready,” he said. His gaze moved over me as I sat on the edge of the bed, still wrapped in my coat. “It is not a luxury bath, but the old magic in the pipes has burned the rust away. It will help your muscles.”
I nodded and tried to stand. My legs protested, but the pain had changed. It was no longer sharp and tearing like it had been in the morning. Now it was a deep, dull numbness, as if my body were rebuilding itself too quickly.
Elijah stepped closer. He did not ask. He reached for my hand.
“I will help,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
“I can undress myself,” I said, but there was little conviction in my voice.
“I know you can. But you do not have to do it alone.”
He slowly slid my coat off my shoulders. Then the leather harness. As the buckles came undone and the weight left my body, it felt as if my armor went with it. I stood before him in the dim light, naked, with every flaw and scar exposed.
Elijah’s gaze drifted to my neck. To the bite.
His brow tightened and he leaned closer. Cold fingers brushed the wound gently.
“That is strange,” he murmured, more to himself than to me.
“What?” My stomach clenched. “Is it infected?”
“Quite the opposite.” He straightened, studying me carefully. “The swelling is almost gone. The edges of the wound are already closing. A human body would need days to reach this stage after a vampire bite. Especially one this deep.”
“You said your saliva heals,” I argued, though I could feel that the throbbing was barely there.
“It heals, yes. It stops bleeding. But it does not accelerate cellular regeneration to this degree.” He shook his head slightly, as if dismissing a thought. “It must be the strength of my blood. Royal blood provokes a stronger response. Or perhaps the bond allows some of my regeneration to flow into you.”
I said nothing. His explanation felt incomplete. Inside me, something stirred. A faint vibration that did not come from him.
We entered the bathroom. The tub was enormous, freestanding, made of dark cast iron. Steam rose from the water, tinted a murky green by the salts Elijah had found.
When I lowered myself into it, a sigh escaped me before I could stop it. The heat wrapped around me, and the pain in my legs eased immediately. Elijah sat on the edge of the tub, rolled his sleeves higher, and took a sponge.
“Turn around,” he said quietly.
I obeyed. I faced away from him, though he remained seated, and felt the wet sponge glide along my spine. His movements were slow and deliberate.
“This house,” I said softly, staring into the water. “You said it drains energy from people. That the land is cursed.”
“Yes. The Blackwood curse. Those who spend a night here usually wake from nightmares, weak and dizzy, as if drained of blood. The house feeds on them.”
I frowned.
“I do not feel weaker,” I admitted. “If anything, since we crossed the gate, my headache is gone. And the exhaustion feels like it evaporated. I feel alert.”
Elijah’s hand stilled on my back. The silence weighed heavily.
“Alert?” he echoed.
“Yes. I hear the house. Not like you do, I think. But I hear the floor creaking below. The wind in the chimney, like whispering. And it is not frightening. It feels inviting.”
His fingers tightened on my shoulder.
“That is dangerous, Aurora. The house manipulates. It wants you to feel safe, to stay open to it. Do not listen. You are human. A place like this can break a human mind easily.”
Human.
The word echoed strangely in my ears. In the Clan they always said defective human. Weak link. But sitting here in cursed water, with a vampire king touching my back and my body healing faster than it should, weak felt very far away.
“Maybe it is just your blood,” I said, trying to convince myself. “The bond makes the house think I am a vampire.”
“Possible,” he replied, but doubt lingered in his voice. “Still, be careful. If you begin to see things, or feel a hunger that food does not satisfy, tell me immediately.”
When we finished and I dried myself, Elijah helping again, every movement possessive yet careful, we returned to the bedroom.
He brought food up from the car. Cans. Bread. The fire crackled in the fireplace, burning with a strange blue flame.
We sat on the rug before the fire. I was hungry. I bit into the bread, but it tasted like nothing. Like sawdust. The canned meat had a metallic tang that brought no comfort. I ate because I knew I should, but the hollow ache in my stomach remained.
Elijah poured himself a glass of wine, having found a bottle downstairs. The dark red liquid swirled thickly.
“Do you want some?” he asked.
“No,” I shook my head. “Just water.”
But my eyes followed the wine. Or rather, the way Elijah drank it. My gaze traced from his mouth to his neck where his shirt hung open. I saw the pulse at his throat.
And then I smelled him.
Not his cologne. Him. His blood beneath his skin. Sweet. Dark. Dense beyond reason. Saliva flooded my mouth, and the emptiness in my stomach tightened painfully, demanding.
I shook my head and drank quickly, trying to wash the sensation away. What is wrong with me?
“Aurora?” Elijah set the glass down. He had noticed. “You are pale.”
“Just tired,” I lied, turning my head away. “The house is affecting me after all.”
“Lie down,” he ordered. “I will keep watch.”
I climbed onto the massive bed. The silk sheets were cool. When I closed my eyes, the darkness was not empty. I saw small red flashes behind my lids, and I heard the house breathing. Thump. Thump.
But as sleep pulled me under, I realized it was not the house.
It was Elijah’s heartbeat, steady by the fire.
And worse, I heard my own.
Slower than a human’s.
Much slower.
“Defective,” the Clan leader’s voice whispered in memory. “No elemental magic. No fire. No water.”
No. I have no elemental magic.
But there was something else inside me. Something that had just awakened for the first time upon meeting the blood of a true predator.
Before sleep claimed me completely, my hand drifted to my neck. The wound no longer hurt. The skin was smooth, as if days had passed instead of hours.
And in the dark, on the edge of dreaming, a single thought crept into my mind, both mine and not:
The house did not accept me.
The house recognized me.