Chapter 93
Chapter 93
I don’t need to turn to see who it is. I feel him.
Griffin.
The air seems to change when he enters. Aemon shifts, but neither of us speak. We just watch as Griffin steps inside. Hair disheveled, jaw tight, red still pulsing behind his eyes like a storm he hasn’t let break.
His gaze locks with mine—and holds.
Goddess.
The things I see in his eyes.
Fury. Relief. And something rawer than both.
Griffin crosses the room in three strides, and then—
He grabs me.
Roughly. But this isn’t punishment. It’s need.
He lifts me straight into his arms like I weigh nothing, arms steel around my back. My bare feet dangle off the ground as he crushes me against his chest, and it’s only then I feel it.
He’s trembling.
His whole body.
And—fuck.
My throat knots.
“Griffin,” I whisper, my hands curling into his shirt.
His deep voice breaks when he speaks. “You almost died.”
There’s no anger. Just ache.
My neck grows warm—hot. Wet.
It takes me a second to realize what it is.
Tears.
His.
Griffin. The Leader of House Draven. He’s crying.
And he doesn’t care that I know.
“You’re not allowed to do that again.” His voice is a low growl, barely holding itself together. “Neither of you. Not like that. Not ever.”
I want to respond. But I can’t speak around the lump in my throat.
Griffin’s arms tighten. “In centuries, I’ve known no blade that could ever cut as deep as your last heartbeat.”
Oh, Goddess.
Aemon stands beside us now, and for a breath, the three of us are locked in a strange, sacred orbit. His hand brushes my lower back. Griffin’s forehead presses to my temple now.
We’re… connected.
Not just emotionally.
Bonded.
The mate bond hums like a chord strung between us, vibrating deep in my bones. My vampire senses are new, sharper—but this? This isn’t something I see or hear.
Aemon cups my face and gently pulls me from Griffin’s arms. He’s warmer than Griffin. His blue eyes are blazing. “Look at me.”
I do.
He leans in and kisses me—slow and deep and possessive.
And something in me lights up.
Fuck.
My skin tingles where our mouths touch. My back arches into him instinctively. It’s different now. All of it. My nerves are electric. His lips taste like something I want to chase into eternity.
When he pulls back, I’m breathing like I just ran through the snow outside barefoot.
“Feel that?” he whispers, knuckles brushing my cheek.
I nod. Barely. “Everything’s… louder.”
Griffin’s behind me again. I feel him, too. Always. Watching. I twist to glance at him, and for a second, all I can see is the trail his tear left along his sharp cheekbone.
“You scared me,” he says lowly.
“Good,” I rasp, my throat still parched. “Now we’re even.”
He huffs something close to a laugh, his red eyes flicking over me like he’s checking for wounds he already knows are gone.
I step back, sandwiched now between them. Aemon’s chest at my shoulder. Griffin’s cold presence at my back.
It’s overwhelming.
And yet—I don’t want to move.
I belong here.
“Fin,” I murmur Aemon’s nickname for him, glancing up into those burning red eyes. “Are you okay?”
“No.”
Honest. Brutal. And without hesitation.
Griffin doesn’t blink. Doesn’t pretend.
His hand lifts, rough knuckles brushing along my now healed jaw, the way you might touch something fragile you don’t trust yourself not to break. “You died, Blake,” he says. His deep voice is low. Controlled. Barely. “Right there. In my brother’s arms.”
I nod slowly. “I know.”
His lips curl back. “Don’t ever fucking do that again.”
Aemon sighs beside me. “She saved my life, brother.”
“And she nearly lost hers.” Griffin’s voice turns to steel again, stepping in like he wants to rip something in half just to feel better. “You should’ve stopped her.”
“She doesn’t listen to me either,” Aemon deadpans. “She made her choice.”
“She’s ours.” Griffin growls, stepping closer.
Aemon meets his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Exactly.”
I slide my hands between them and push them apart an inch. “Goddess,” I mutter. “You two are really going to bicker over my undead body like I’m not standing here with functioning fangs?”
That earns me a look from both of them. In sync. Infuriating.
I tilt my head. “You’re lucky I like dramatic vampires.”
Aemon flashes me his dimple. Griffin grunts something that might be agreement—or just suppressed panic—but the tension bleeds off them both.
Aemon runs his fingers down my neck. “Speaking of…”
I raise a brow. “Speaking of what?”
He leans down, his eyes gleaming. His dimple flashes when he says it—way too pleased with himself. “You already have my brother’s mark on one side.”
“And?”
Griffin’s breath tickles the back of my neck now.
I feel the meaning before he even says it.
Aemon brushes my hair aside and tilts my chin. “It’s time for mine.”