Chapter 81

I stare at them.

Well. That’s definitely not not what I was thinking was happening.

I think that as we drop our hands. I take one step forward, and Aemon leans against the open doorway, unbothered, with broad shoulders relaxed and arms crossed over the bare strength of his tank-clad chest. The muscles in his arms bunch slightly, forearms dusted with faint veins, like he could go from stillness to violence in a blink.

Good Goddess! Sexy as hell.

His blue gaze flicks to the cracked stone wall behind Seth, then at the flustered mess of Arya and her messed hair, chest still heaving, like she’s just surfaced from underwater.

“I was going to ask what the hell you were doing in Arya’s room, Seth,” Aemon says dryly. “But I guess the visual is enough.”

I bite the inside of my cheek to hold back the laugh threatening to break loose.

Arya’s face is already twisted in rage. She crosses her arms with a huff and whirls away from Seth like he somehow offends her just for breathing the same air..

Seth, for his part, looks pleased. He brushes the dust from his coat where the stone crumbled behind him and clears his throat. “I was looking for you, actually. We need to talk.”

Aemon lifts a brow. “Where? In her mouth?”

I snort before I can stop myself, then immediately slap a hand over my mouth. Heat blooms across my cheeks. I clear my throat.

Arya whirls, scowling so hard her nose scrunches. “It’s not what you think, Blake!”

Seth doesn’t deny it. Just smirks and pulls a slightly crumpled envelope from his coat pocket. “Letter from the Vampire Court.”

That gets Aemon’s attention.

He takes the letter but doesn’t open it. Instead, he turns to me. The teasing drops away like a mask.

His hand slides to the small of my back. He dips down, mouth finding mine in a slow, possessive kiss that drags the air right out of me. When he pulls back, his lips hover close.

“You okay, love?”

He doesn’t mean with the kiss. He means with Arya. With being left alone here.

I nod. “Yeah. I’m good.”

His eyes scan mine once more, just to be sure.

But I nod again. I know the letter must be important.

Seth tries to button his shirt, only to realize Arya must’ve ripped half the buttons clean off. He gives up with a sigh and mutters, “Savage she-wolf.”

A second later, he and Aemon vanish, gone in a blur of vampire speed.

Arya growls. Then, she looks at me and stops.

The silence that follows is brutal.

Arya doesn’t look at me. She moves to the other side of the room, straightens a stack of books that doesn’t need straightening. “What do you want, Blake?” My sister asks, her back still to me. Her voice is as sharp as her wolf’s claw.

With my jaw tight, I step in. Close the door gently behind me. “To talk.”

She doesn’t answer. Just starts folding a blanket, perfectly, corner to corner.

I watch her for a beat. My sister. Her hair a darker shade of golden-brown than mine. Mom’s chestnut eyes. The same that never softened when they looked at me. And now, just like Mom’s, Arya’s are hard. Distant.

A wall I’ve tried to climb for weeks, only to keep slipping.

Fuck.

"I don’t want us to be like this, Ari,” I say. “We’re sisters.”

The blanket slams down onto the chair. She turns slowly, her face blank.

“Are we?” Her voice is lower now, more dangerous. “Because I don’t call blood bags my sisters.”

I flinch. Not from the insult, but from the venom behind it.

“Arya. Stop. We’re sisters—”

She snorts. A single, disbelieving sound. “Sisters.” Arya shakes her head. “You let those monsters—”

“They aren’t monsters. Not to me.” My fingers curl into fists.

Arya stares. Then laughs. Low and humorless. Then she nods slowly, like I just confirmed something without speaking. “Goddess, you sound just like Mom would expect from you.”

That stops everything.

We both know Mom never found anything good in me. I’m human, after all.

Her face crumbles for half a second before she turns away.

I swallow hard. My heart’s beating too fast and I hate that she can hear it. My skin is hot and flushed.

“You let them bite you, Blake. Willingly. Like a blood whore. You can’t call yourself my sister while you let them feed on you like a leech.”

My jaw clenches. “That’s not what I am—”

“Aren’t you?” Arya’s arms are crossed now, shoulders tense, mouth curled in disgust. Her eyes are locked on mine, furious and broken all at once. “You think you’re so different, don’t you? Better than the other girls these monsters fed. You’re not, Blake. You’re just a prettier offering with a rare blood type.”

“That’s not true!” I step forward, waves of hot anger running through my back. My voice rises. “I’m more than a blood bag. I’m much more than that to—”

“Who?” Arya spits. She steps closer, toe to toe. “Which one, Blake? Griffin or Aemon?”

Her eyes search mine like she’s hunting a lie, and when she finds silence, her disgust is instant.

A silent verdict.