Page 115 of The Bound Blood
“Big leagues? I don’t think you’ve even dated anyone in the two years I’ve known you,” he scoffs.
“Why is that?” I ask turning my head toward Tamsin to give Nolan a moment.
Tamsin rolls her eyes but doesn’t deflect the way she usually does. That alone makes me pause.
“Because,” she says slowly, stretching the word out like she’s deciding how honest to be, “dating implies kissing.”
Nolan blinks. “That’s… generally how it works.”
“And kissing,” she continues, tapping her finger against the bench, “is a terrible idea for me.”
I turn fully toward her. “Why?”
She hesitates. Just a beat. Long enough that the humor dims around the edges.
“Let’s just say,” she says lightly, but there’s something careful underneath it, “I’m not great for people’s long-term health.”
Nolan frowns. “Emotionally or?—”
“Magically,” she cuts in. “Very magically.”
I study her face. She’s still smiling, still casual, but it’s the kind of smile that’s learned how to hide teeth.
“So you just… don’t?” I ask quietly.
She shrugs one shoulder. “I flirt. I banter. I emotionally devastate others from a safe distance.”
Nolan snorts despite himself. “That tracks.”
Her smile sharpens. “But I don’t kiss people. Because the last thing I need is some poor idiot ending up cursed because I wanted a moment.”
The word hangs there.
Cursed.
I swallow. “Tamsin…”
She waves it off immediately. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I’ve been dealing with it forever. And honestly? Watching everyone else spiral romantically is excellent entertainment.”
Nolan tilts his head, studying her. “You know, you’re allowed to want things too. Maybe there is a way to get rid of the curse. I can research it.”
For just a second, something unguarded flickers across her face. Then it’s gone.
“I want snacks,” she says brightly. “And survival. In that order. I can watch Lindsay’s romance and live it vicariously."
I don’t push. But the way she stares out at the courtyard—tells me this isn’t just a joke. It’s a promise she made to herself.
And maybe, one day…she’s going to find someone that makes her want to break it.
FORTY-ONE
LINDSAY
Midnight feelsdifferent when you’re standing in the middle of something ancient.
Bonfires ring the courtyard, flames burning high and steady despite the cold. Their light reflects off snow-dusted stone and dark ceremonial cloaks, and the air hums—not loud—but dense, layered with magic that presses in from all sides. Every breath is unfamiliar.
I stand at the center of the ritual circle because I was told to.
