Blood Freed (Vampire-Cursed #4)

7. Chapter 7

7

Chapter 7

Soren

T he silver burns deeper now, each movement sending fresh waves of pain through my limbs. I’d do it again. The memory of Mia’s touch lingers on my skin, a warmth that defies the cold bite of these restraints.

I lean back against the rough stone wall, letting my head rest against its cool surface. The ward-magic pulses around me, an ever-present hum that sets my teeth on edge. But for those few precious moments when Mia was near, even these ancient protections wavered.

Not just wavered. We broke through them.

My muscles ache from fighting both the wards and my own instincts during our meeting. The urge to pull her fully through that barrier, to shield her with my body, to run – it took everything I had to maintain control. The guards would have killed me without hesitation if I’d truly broken through.

I flex my fingers, remembering the sensation of hers intertwined with mine. The contact was brief, but it fed something in me that even blood cannot satisfy. The cuffs char my wrists as I move, and I welcome the pain. It helps clear my mind, keeps me focused on what matters.

Surviving this.

Exhaustion pulls at me, a bone-deep weariness I haven’t felt in centuries. Fighting magical wards takes more strength than battling physical enemies. Combined with the silver’s constant drain and the fact that I’m already weakened by the Maker’s Bond, it’s left me depleted. But I can still feel traces of Mia’s energy, like echoes of sunlight beneath my skin. The sunlight I only have memories of.

The cell seems darker now, more confining. The brief taste of freedom – of her – makes these walls press closer. I close my eyes, holding onto the memory of her face, her scent, the fierceness in her eyes when she fought to reach me through the barrier.

Her scent still lingers – lightning and sweet, honeyed nectar. I’ve caught traces of it before, through cell bars and across guarded spaces, but nothing prepared me for the intensity when she finally stood close enough to touch.

So close. Too close.

I almost lost my tenuous control. And that would get us both into shit.

The memory of her lips haunts me, soft yet demanding against mine. That single kiss held all the restrained longing I’d finally sated the night before I got her out of that shithole. Except all it did was give me a need for more. Now, I feel like a starving man who’s just been given a glimpse of a banquet. My mouth waters. Her taste…sweet and electric as our lips met. My fangs ached with the need to sharpen, but I held back. I had to hold back. I know she did, too.

You did the right thing.

When our hands met at the barrier, power surged between us. Her magic called to something in my blood, ancient and primal. For one brilliant moment, I dared to hope. The barriers thinned, became permeable. I could feel her warmth more clearly, her racing heartbeat echoing through my bones.

We could break through. We could…

But I knew we couldn’t. Not then. Not with Morgan watching, ready to strike. Still, for that precious instant when I pulled her closer, when our powers merged, and the air sparked around us – I felt whole. Complete in a way I haven’t experienced in centuries.

Because you felt her…inside you.

I think back to that strange sensation I’ve been feeling more and more intensely. As if she’s within me.

That connection.

What the hell is it?

It feels like the Maker’s Bond, only gentler. Tender. And somehow, more compelling, more irresistible than the harsh compulsion of Maxwell’s grip over me.

As these thoughts spill through my mind, something starts to dawn on me. By allowing this connection with Mia to deepen, I’ve painted a target on her back. Lucien’s earlier visit made that clear – his false concern barely masking the predatory gleam in his eyes when he mentioned her name.

He’s wanted her blood from the start. Now, he’ll want her even more.

My fingers clench against the silver chains, welcoming the searing pain. It’s better than the memory of Mia’s warmth, of her determination to help me despite everything she’s endured. She’s already suffered a year of captivity because of vampires. Because of me.

And now you’ve made her even more vulnerable.

Lucien will use her to control me, just as he’s using whatever leverage he has over Maxwell. I’ve seen his methods before – the careful manipulation, the slow tightening of the noose until his victims have no choice but to comply.

The scent of burning flesh fills my nose, but it’s not from the silver. For a moment, I’m transported back three centuries – watching helplessly as flames consume the wooden stake where Ingrid stands bound. Her blue eyes meet mine one last time, filled with understanding even as the smoke chokes her screams. I couldn’t save her. Wouldn’t save her because I feared what she’d become if I turned her.

Just like you. Hollow. Alone.

The memory twists in my gut. Different time, different witch, same goddamn weakness. I told myself I was protecting Ingrid by not turning her, but in the end, my hesitation killed her. Now history mocks me with cruel symmetry – another witch I care for, another impossible choice.

But this time, it’s worse. The connection between Mia and me runs deeper than anything I felt with Ingrid. Every moment we’re together strengthens it but makes her more vulnerable to those who would use her against me.

She’s already been through enough.

The truth settles like ice in my veins. My presence in her life will only bring more pain, more danger. Lucien will never stop hunting her as long as he can use her to control me. Although that will just be a convenient benefit. Her blood will be the main attraction.

The Assembly will condemn me. Five centuries of watching vampire politics have taught me to recognize a predetermined verdict. Lucien’s tendrils of influence reach too deep, his allies too numerous. The evidence against me reads like a death sentence – and it damns me from both a vampire and a witch perspective: running a facility that held witches captive, defying my maker, breaking vampire law. Each charge alone could mean execution. Together, they guarantee it.

Maxwell’s position twists the knife deeper. I’ve never seen my maker so controlled, so careful with his words. That slight tremor in his hands when Lucien spoke, the way his eyes wouldn’t quite meet mine – Maxwell is terrified. And a terrified ancient vampire is more dangerous than an angry one. Whatever Lucien holds over him must be devastating.

I shift on the bunk, collecting my thoughts. Lucien’s influence has grown significantly in recent years. He’s positioned himself perfectly – the concerned advocate for vampire security, the voice of old values and strength. Even those who distrust him will follow his lead if he frames my actions as a threat to vampire society.

My options are limited. I could try to expose Lucien’s schemes, but without proof, it’s my word against his. And right now, my word means nothing. I could attempt to break the Maker’s Bond with Maxwell, but that would likely kill us both. Running isn’t possible while these wards hold me.

That leaves one path – and it’s narrow as hell. If I can get word to someone on the inside with connections, who also understands Assembly politics and knows Lucien’s true nature, maybe I’ll be able to reach the right allies before the Council convenes.

The real question is whether I can protect Mia while fighting this battle. Lucien will target her the moment he realizes she’s my weakness. And she is my weakness – the silver burns, but the thought of her in danger burns deeper.

You need a plan.

I roll my shoulders, loosening the tight muscles there. The harder I think, the fewer options I come up with.

“You’re fucked, Daire,” I mutter under my breath.

Mia.

She’ll fight for me. I know she will.

She can’t.

I can’t allow it.

The decision crystallizes like ice in my veins. I have to push her away. Make her believe I don’t care. It’s the only way to keep her safe from Lucien, from the Council…from me.

My throat tightens at the thought of what I’ll have to say to her. The lies I’ll need to tell. She’ll see through them – Mia’s too perceptive not to. But if I make the rejection cruel enough, definitive enough, she’ll have to accept it.

Like watching Ingrid burn all over again.

But this time, it’s my choice. My sacrifice. The image of Ingrid’s final moments haunts me. I couldn’t save her then. I won’t let history repeat itself with Mia.

The weight of this past year crashes over me. Nearly three hundred and sixty-five days of watching her captivity. Every moment I stood by, every time I had to turn away from her suffering… The guilt threatens to choke me.

She’s forgiven me. Somehow, impossibly, she’s forgiven me. I don’t deserve it. Don’t deserve her.

Our connection pulses, warm and alive despite the wards. I feel her presence like a warm breeze on my skin, seeping deeper. She’s thinking of me, worrying. Planning how to save me.

I can’t let her.

The Assembly will show no mercy. Lucien will use her against me if he can. The only way to protect her is to cut her free. Make her hate me enough to stay away.

I close my eyes, steeling myself for what I must do. Then, deliberately, painfully, I begin shutting down our connection. Building walls around my mind, around my heart.

I feel her confusion, her hurt, as the warmth begins to fade.

Forgive me, Mia.