✔Kin of the Curse (Book 1: Bloodbound Chronicles)

34. First Taste of Blood (Part 1)

Something was burning.

The pillows beneath Castor's head burned from the flames emitting from his body like an overturned candle. Startled, he shot up and quickly summoned calm energy, allowing it to flow through his body as he worked to extinguish the flames. It did little to rescue the pitiful charred remains of the pillows.

Everything came rushing back to him, and he sprung for the window like a bat escaping hell. He surveyed the grounds below for any traces of his precious Lucien or that rat bastard, Rishon. By some miracle, he was still alive and he planned to murder the man for the pain he'd inflicted upon Lucien.

"Crystal balls," Castor cursed under his breath. It had been evening when they battled the dead, but sunlight streamed in from the curtains he had yanked open.

"In a rush to go somewhere?" Castor startled, jumping like a poisonous dart frog as he narrowed his eyes at Sebastian tucked away in the back of the room, nose-deep in a newspaper.

"Hells bells, you scared me." Despite how jittery it made him, Castor noticed his heart wasn't pounding in his chest. On the contrary, it was beating quite slowly. That didn't seem normal, but Castor was too concerned about Lucien to worry about himself. "Tell me you've seen Lucien. We were fighting with Rishon, and-" Castor trailed off when Sebastian lowered his paper, folding it up and stashing it aside on his table. The look in his sullen eyes told Castor enough, and he shook his head with a small croak, "Oh, Gods. No. Please, tell me he's alive."

Sebastian's expression didn't change much when he said, "Yes, Lucien's alive."

"Thank the Gods." Castor released a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding in. "Where is he? Can I see him?"

"Sit down, Castor. We need to talk."

Castor frowned. "Sebastian, what's going on? Why are you acting so weird?" He tried to remember how he'd even ended up inside his clinic, but his mind drew up blank. The last memories he obtained were of being flung outside by Rishon's potent magic, and rotters swarmed him like a giant, delicious human cake.

"You died."

"Pardon?" Castor glanced down at his hands, vibrant embers of fire magic sparking on his fingertips. "Ghosts can't wield magic, can they? Holy hell, am I haunting you?"

Sebastian gave him a wry laugh. "No, Castor. You're not a ghost." The amusement died on his lips with the next words he said, "But you're not exactly alive anymore either."

The gears started clicking in his head as he darted into the adjoined restroom with the speed of a triathlon runner. He braced the sink with trembling hands, his eyes glued to the mirror in fascinated horror at his lack of reflection. As if testing his theory, he stuck a finger in his mouth and dragged it along his teeth until one of his fangs poked out to prick his skin.

"Sebastian," Castor choked out. "What did you do to me?"

"I had no choice." His friend appeared at his side like a mere shadow, but Castor recoiled when he tried to touch his shoulder. The pained look in Sebastian's eyes twisted like a sharp knife in Castor's chest as he brushed past him. "I numbed your mouth with Numicane ointment while your fangs grew in. It's commonly used for dhampir children when their fangs first come in. You probably taste lemons, but it'll fade. I didn't want you to wake up in pain."

"I don't want fangs, Sebastian." Castor croaked, his throat raw and parched as settled down at the foot of the clinic's bed. "Remove them. I can't risk losing control and hurting someone I love. You told me how it was common practice amongst dhampirs who became hunters, so do that for me."