Sin Undone

With a grunt of assent, Aed crouched, drew a blade across his wrist, and the effect on Con was instantaneous. His fangs punched down, his mouth watered, and a low, famished growl rose up in his chest.

The blood of a dhampire was required for this part of the ritual, was crucial in imparting an extra layer of protection, something that would separate him from regular vampires—an immunity to holy water and the ability to walk in the sun, which apparently hearkened back to the oldest vampire legends. Con would still be susceptible to the other usual vampire threats—fire, decapitation, wooden stakes, but… yeah, who wasn’t?

Con gripped his friend’s arm and brought his wrist to his mouth. It was good, but nothing tasted better than Sin.

Damn. What was she thinking right now? He wished he’d been able to tell her about the dhampire’s second chance, but all he could do was try to tell Sin, in those last seconds of lucidity, that he would be back. That she was his, but this time, there would be no bonds of blood or magic or chain-link collars.

Now, no longer dhampire, Con would be banished forever from dhampire lands, sent into the night like his brothers before him, like his cousin Aisling, who he was supposed to have replaced on the Dhampire Council.

He no longer had to serve the dhampires, and he felt as if some huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He palmed his chest, where his heart no longer beat, and smiled. Son of a bitch, this was what he’d wanted all along. Why he’d been so reckless with his life. Oh, he’d wanted to have fun, do everything he could do, but fear had never been in play.

Because deep down, he knew that death was only temporary. If he died, he could come back, and then he’d be free of dhampire life forever.

Excellent.

He would now be governed by the Vampire Council, his story that he was turned by a vampire, sire unknown. Even the vampires didn’t know about the dhampire’s second chance.

“That’s enough, there, boy.” Aed gripped Con’s hair and tugged him off his wrist. He licked his own wound to seal it, and then helped Con up. “What now?” “Now,” Con said grimly, “I go to kill a werewolf and claim my woman.”

Sin felt like hell and didn’t look a whole lot better.

She hadn’t wanted to leave the hospital, and God, how crazy was it that not long ago she’d done everything she could to avoid the place, and now all she wanted to do was stay? Her family was there. And it was all she had left of Con. Funny how losing him had made her realize that, bond or no, she was linked to him. He’d owned her heart, and now that he was gone, it sat like a useless lump in her empty chest cavity, a stray organ with no reason to beat.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. There was always revenge. She didn’t know how long it would take, but she would make Raynor pay for her pain. The thought made her bare her teeth in some twisted, grim resemblance of a smile as she hoofed it along the inky streets on the outskirts of Pittsburgh. His summons had come in the form of radiating pain from the collar while she’d been in Eidolon’s office, where she’d spent the night. She’d never been alone; her brothers had made sure that one of them had always been with her.

It was Eidolon who had been there when the summons came, and he’d been furious, but as he’d walked her to the Harrowgate, his hands behind his back and his face pinched in concentration, she’d seen a spark of wickedness in his eyes that would have chilled her to the bone if she’d thought his mind was working against her.

“Let us know your location,” he’d said. “Take your time getting there, and get Raynor to lay out his genocidal plans.”

“I don’t understand…” “Just do it.” He’d shoved her into the Harrowgate, leaving her cursing and nearly in tears—again. Not because of Eidolon, but because everything seemed to remind her of Con. The Harrowgate, because she’d been in it with him. The hospital, because he’d worked there. Scrubs, because those were what he’d died in.

Oh, God. Desperate to not lose him, she’d asked him to complete the bond with her. Instead, he’d killed himself, and she didn’t need to be a brain surgeon to know why. He hadn’t wanted to take her freedom away. She’d been so damned insistent that no one would ever own her again, would never be the sole provider of the one thing she needed to survive, and he’d taken it to heart. He’d made the ultimate sacrifice in order to honor what she’d said.

And she’d never gotten the chance to tell him that the reason she’d wanted the bond wasn’t because there was no other choice. It was because she loved him.