CHAPTER EIGHTY THREE

I surrendered the letter I had held onto so tightly for the past week.

Anthony's eyes lit up at the familiar script before darkening with dread as he took in the words on the page.

"Oh my–" My mom couldn't even finish her words, her brown eyes already wetting with tears of pity for her only child. "Aria." Her quiet voice wavered, breaking the dam to my oppressed emotions.

"Mom." I choked out, covering my face with my hands as harsh sobs racked my body. I felt her warm embrace within seconds, consoling and comforting my trembling form. "He left, mom. He betrayed us all."

"I know, baby. Shh. It's all going to work out. He'll come to his senses." She cooed in my ear, placing loving kisses on my forehead. But I knew that wasn't true. Call it pessimistic, but they didn't hear how stable his heart sounded as he walked away that night.

He wasn't in his right mind. How could he come to his senses when his senses were long gone?

Anthony didn't speak for a long time, but I could hear the vicious pounding of his blood throughout his body. He was seething in his rage for his son. How could he not be? Here he was witnessing what was left of Rory's royal while knowing that it was all his son's fault.

"I have half the mind to drag that–" He finally hissed.

"Anthony!" My mom scolded in a hushed tone, but I pushed her off, swiping at my eyes and feeling a little bit better feeling the alcohol loosening my mind.

"It's okay, mom. I'm going to go for a walk on the beach, if that's okay. Could I have that drink, now?" I asked Anthony, who was quick to rush to my service.

Just in case Lysander didn't catch on, I did what I believed was some sort of prayer to him. Really, I just focused really hard on communicating with him. It was like a mind link, but without confirmation that he heard me. I glanced over at him to see if he reacted.

"Can you join me? I need you." I prayed. He appeared startled, turning to me as if to ask if I was sure. "Please." His gaze softened, giving me a reassuring yet saddened smile.

"I'm just going to get more to drink, okay?" He whispered in my ear, getting up to follow Anthony into the kitchen.

When my mom and I were alone, she clasped my face between her hands, placing another tender kiss on the tip of my nose.

"Oh, honey. I'm so sorry this happened. Please, stay as long as you'd like. We have plenty of room."

"Thanks, mom, but I'll only be here for tonight. I promised Bastion that I would be back tomorrow."

"Of course, sweetie. Thank the gods you were also given a mate who loves you more than anything, right?"

My mind flashed to Bas. I hoped he wasn't too lonely. I knew I could've invited him to come along, but to be honest, seeing him only reminded me more of Rory. I just needed one night to clear my mind so I could go back to Bastion and love him the way I knew he deserved to be loved.

My mom patted my leg and stood to join Anthony as Lysander returned with both of our drinks in hand.

"Care for a walk, milady?"

.

.

.

I honestly couldn't remember the last time I had laughed so hard, but I guess two cocktails and a swig of brandy could do that to a lightweight hybrid like me.

I stumbled along the tide, holding onto Lysander's arm for dear life since my legs were no longer obeying me. The sun had long since set and the moon was the only light for some distance. We were a good mile away from the beach house and the enchanting crashing of waves was pulling me fully under the spell of intoxication.

"Anyone else?" Lysander asked, a slight slur to his voice being the only evidence of his compromised state of mind.

"Hmm... William Shakespeare!" I shouted drunkenly into the night sky.

His deep chuckle tickled me further and I burst into a fit of giggles, my tenth of the night.

"The guy was an absolute bore, sweetheart. He was an author. He spent most of his time hidden away in his cottage, pen in hand. When he wasn't there, he was drunkenly groping the ass of every decent girl he passed in the alley."

"No! You're lying!" I choked between laughs, but he shook his head, his eyes telling me that he was being completely serious.

My laughter stopped, however, when my foot caught a pit in the sand, throwing me to my face and sending grains flying into my clothes and hair. This only made me laugh harder, curling onto the coarse mounds, clutching my stomach in amusement.

Lysander knelt beside me quickly, his hand landing on mine over my belly as he set the half-drunk bottle of cognac in the sand.

"Are you okay?" He snickered, bending down to inspect me for injuries. I felt no pain, that was until his free hand put a brick load of pressure onto my right ankle. I howled at the contact, pulling it from his grip so I could baby it in my hands.

"Ow." I whined, placing a hand on his thigh for stability. He reached for it again, but I slapped his hand away. "Don't touch. You made it worse." I pouted. He leaned back in surrender, his eyes zeroed in on my wincing expression.

He seemed lost in thought for a moment, finally conceding with himself and pulling me to sit on his lap.

"What are you-?"

"Drink." He slurred with as much authority as he could muster.

I raised my brows, eyeing his artery with fascination.

"But-"

"I'm immune to your venom; I'll be fine. It'll heal your ankle."

I already knew these things, so that wasn't what made me hesitate. It was the twinkle of fear in his blue eyes.

"Are you sure? Because you don't look sure." I prompted, searching his piercing gaze fervently.

He offered me an insecure smile, his hand rubbing up and down my thigh.

 "Yes. But, um, no one has ever drunk from me before. So I'm a little nervous."

My heart warmed at the sentimentality of him allowing me to do what no one else ever had.

"Why hasn't anyone ever done it?"

"I didn't think they could handle the power in my blood. But you have part of me inside of you already, so I think you'll be okay." He clamped his mouth, catching himself as he admitted something he clearly didn't mean to.

I had part of him inside of me? Was that what the bond between us was?

Maybe it was the alcohol, but I handled it better than expected, which was evident on Lysander's adoring face.

"So, I can..." I started, unable to finish as the enticing sound of his blood flowing hypnotized me, drawing out my fangs as my fingers traced his flawless ivory skin.

He sucked in a harsh breath, his hand stilling on my thigh and giving it a light squeeze.

"Yea, I'll be-fuck!"

I struck, burying my pearly teeth deep into his skin and lapping up the thick crimson that sprang forth.

Shit, it was amazing.

No, beyond amazing! There wasn't a word on the planet to describe how decadent he tasted on my tongue. I couldn't even compare the flavor because it was so uniquely him. Instead, it evoked an emotion, one that was similar to sipping chamomile tea with honey on a cold winter day, or being wrapped in a Sherpa throw in the arms of a lover before a crackling flame.

Soothing. Welcoming. Pleasurable.

I felt the power that surged along with it, but it didn't burn like it did when he kissed me during the exchange. It flowed through me, awakening my senses and making a home in my heart as if it was the most natural thing for it to do.

Not only did absorbing his blood instantly cure my twisted ankle, but it also cleared my mind of the effects of the alcohol, making me feel sober yet not at the same time.

I went from being drunk to being high, convinced his blood was laced with ecstasy.

I had never felt closer to Lysander, and I only wanted to get closer. I wanted to know him in every conceivable way. I wanted him to trust me the way I trusted him.

And even though I knew it was wrong, I wanted him.

But I couldn't be greedy. I could feel his grip tightening and his body twitching, and I just knew he must've been incredibly uncomfortable. My venom wasn't softening the sensations for him, so he must've been miserable.

I needed to stop.