The Ninth Blood Bond

"Eve, I'm taking Lillian to the night hospital first. The silver shard in your shoulder isn't deep. Call a UV-shielded cab, go home, and pull it out yourself, okay?"

Adrian said this with one hand still resting on Lillian's shoulder. Lillian was slumped against him, her lips completely drained of color, her breathing ragged. "I'm so scared. Did I ruin the registration for you and Eve again? Did I mess things up again?"

"No, it's not your fault. Don't cry. You've only just awakened. It's perfectly normal to lose control of your breathing after a scare." Adrian ducked his head to comfort her, his voice so gentle you'd think she was the one with silver embedded in her flesh.

I stood beside the wrecked car. The silver in my shoulder kept burning, and blood had already soaked through half my blouse. Our kind healed faster than humans, but wounds touched by silver wouldn't close on their own. Adrian knew that perfectly well. He simply didn't look back.

"I'll go, then," I said.

He didn't even raise his head. "Be careful on the way. Use tweezers to get the silver out when you're home, and drink a bag of fresh plasma after."

I turned and walked a long way before I looked back one last time. He was bending down to buckle Lillian's seatbelt, then draping a UV-blocking wrap snugly over her lap, handling her as though she might shatter at any moment.

Back home, I pulled the silver shard out myself, cleaned the wound, and sat down on the living room sofa. Outside the window, dusk turned into deep night. No one came home.

At nine, Adrian walked in with a paper bag. "You haven't eaten, have you? Cinnamon apple pie from that place on South Street. I waited in line for an hour."

We could taste regular food; it just couldn't sustain us. He knew I loved apple and cinnamon, and he knew this was the one treat I'd accept as consolation whenever I'd been hurt.

He set the bag on the coffee table and pulled a velvet box from his pocket. "And this. You said you liked that moonstone necklace last time, so I had the store set it aside."

He wrapped his arms around me from behind, resting his chin on the uninjured side of my shoulder. "I'm sorry, Eve. We missed the registration again today. Next month, I'll take you for sure. No more accidents."

The scent of apple pie filled the room. His warmth seeped through his shirt and into my back, blending with countless warm nights over the past seven years.

I remembered how every time I worked a night shift at the hospital, he would slip a small vial of my favorite plasma into my coat pocket. I remembered him saying that Evelyn Hart was the only one he would ever choose in his long, immortal life.

I was about to speak when his phone rang. The name on the screen read "Lily."

"Who's that?" I asked.

"Just family business." He answered without a beat of hesitation.

The phone buzzed again. A message popped up on the screen: Adrian, I just finished my checkup. Every time I close my eyes, I see the crash. I can't stop the urge to bite. Can you come back and stay with me?

His body went rigid for a moment, then he let go of me. "The hospital says Lillian's blood work came back abnormal. I need to run back. I won't be long. Eat the pie while it's warm. Don't wait up."

He stroked my hair, then turned and left. The door closed softly, as if the quieter he made his exit, the less cruel the deception would be.

I cut a slice of apple pie and took a bite. Too much sugar. The sweetness was so cloying it made me nauseous.

I picked up my phone. A notification on my work profile showed that Claire had just posted. In the photo, Lillian lay in a hospital bed while Adrian sat on the edge, leaning down to wipe blood from her lips. Claire's caption read: Some people are born to be each other's cure for the bloodlust. A true blood bond can never be broken.

I switched to my personal account and opened Claire's profile. Her page came up blank. She had gone out of her way to block me, but she'd forgotten I still had a work account.

My mother, Helena Hart, had posted three hours earlier: Thank God, Lillian didn't lose control. In the photo, Lillian was smiling against the hospital pillows while my mother held her hand and Adrian stood nearby. My father, Edmund Hart, had commented below: Drive more carefully from now on. Stop making us and Adrian worry.

They looked like the real family.

I put my phone down. I didn't cry. I just sat there on the sofa, and it hit me that the past seven years had been a carefully staged play. Everyone around me had known their lines. I was the only one who'd believed the love they performed was real.

If it was all an act, then it was time for the curtain to fall.

I walked into the study to grab my documents, pack a bag, and leave. As I passed Adrian's desk, I noticed the bottom drawer wasn't fully closed. He always kept it locked, claiming it held confidential Mohr clan documents.

He'd probably forgotten to lock it in his rush to get to the hospital.

I pulled the drawer open. No clan documents inside. Just a deep crimson blood bond certificate.

The vampire registry recognized only one bonded partner at a time. Until the existing bond was dissolved, it was impossible to register with a second person. This was the real reason all nine of our attempts had failed.

I picked up the certificate and turned to the registration page. The date was fifteen months ago.

In the photo, Adrian wore a black suit, his expression tender. The person standing beside him wasn't me. It was Lillian.