Page 146 of Claimed

My stomach gives a strange little twist. Valentin feels it and his jaw tightens.

‘Eira is fine,’ I say.

‘Both are hers,’ Valentin says coldly.

Aaron bows. ‘Of course, sire.’

When he leaves, I turn on Valentin. ‘You’re aware that growling at people for using my name is not a recognised healing practice.’

‘Blame the fated mate thing.’

I blink. ‘The what now?’

His gaze returns to me, dark and satisfied in a way that should make me want to stab him and unfortunately makes my pulse misbehave. ‘The curse is lifted from your blood. The veil is gone. I feel it fully now.’

‘You feel what?’ I ask very carefully.

‘It is intense. And I was right.’ He steps closer, eyes lowering to my mouth, every ounce of blood inside him pulsing with unbridled hunger. ‘You are my fated mate.’

My heart soars, then swan-dives as a laugh bubbles out of me before I can stop it. The strange, elated terror of those three words hasn’t eased one iota. ‘Congratulations. Would you like a certificate? A little engraved plaque? World’s Most Insufferably Correct Vampire?’

His mouth almost curves. ‘I would settle for obedience.’

‘May you continue to live in disappointment.’

The banter doesn’t lighten things. At all. Because he’s looking at me with the force of everything we just survived, everything still coming, everything neither of us has had time to survive emotionally because witches keep appearing with murder and revelations.

I know what fated mate means now.

I feel it in my blood, in the bond, in the way his presence fills a room before his body does. In the way the Tower itself seems to breathe differently around me, and in the very ache beneath my breastbone when he looks too tired and still pretends immortal arrogance can prop up a dying man.

I feel it all… and the snark dissolves on my tongue, causing Valentin’s expression to shift straight into even more dangerous territory. Because the softness is there, and he has never learned to handle soft things without trying to conquer them.

Another knock comes at the door.

Luca pokes his head in, which proves either courage or a death wish. ‘Sire. Rowan says if you continue frightening every person who comes within ten feet of your mate, she will sedate you and make it hurt.’

Valentin turns his head slowly.

Luca’s gaze flicks to me. ‘She also said that if Eira laughs again, she’ll force her to rest her throat.’

I press my lips together, my shoulders shaking in forbidden mirth.

Valentin’s voice drops. ‘Leave.’

‘Going.’

The door shuts. I stare at it, then at him. Courage and terror build in equal measures. ‘You know what? Enough. You’re amped up to the eyeballs. And frankly so am I. So how about we stop dancing around things?’

His eyes sharpen. A warning that I should retreat.

Well… fuck that very much.

‘And what is it exactly you wish me to stop dancing around? What do you need to hear, little hunter?’ he asks softly. ‘That I love you? Again?’

My breath catches. Then he’s on me.

Between heartbeats, I’m plucked from the table and relocated, the wall at my back, his hands under my thighs, my body lifted, pinned, held exactly where he wants me. The air leaves my lungs in a rush as his hips press between my legs. His face is inches from mine, beautiful and terrible, eyes bright with something that makes the whole world narrow to the space between his mouth and mine.