She launched herself over the iron fence at full speed, landing in a controlled roll. Thankfully, she was trained in stealth and not a clodhopping, battering ram like her brother. They both had a lean physique suited for their methods, yet she prided herself on finesse, dispatching adversaries before they even knew of her presence.

She snuck back into the estate like a whisper, melding into the shadows as she glided down the stone halls without her boots making even the smallest sound.

Azalie slipped quietly into her bed chamber, easing the door shut behind her. As she turned, the space was engulfed in a sudden, icy blue light. She startled, suppressing a gasp at the sight of Azazel, seated at her desk with his knuckles propped under his chin, his gaze as sharp and penetrating as their father’s.

“Zel, what are you doing here?” she asked, keeping her tone as even as she could manage, though his piercing gaze bore into her with a familiarity that stirred both comfort and unease.

“What am I doing here?” His voice was a harsh whisper, each word dripping with restrained frustration. “How about, where the hell have you been?” He rose from the chair, every inch the warrior he was trained to be. “I left you in my room, and then you simply vanished. You’ve been gone for hours, Zalie!”

“I—I. . .” Her mind whirred. Lying to Azazel was pointless, it was like they had connected minds. She could keep secrets from him for the most part, but once something was out in the open, he would know she wasn’t being truthful. Honesty was the best policy, but a bit of discretion with her words would serve her best.

“I stepped out for a while. I needed to clear my mind . . . so, I went to the location of the power surge.”

His eyes widened, shock stealing across his features before he closed the distance between them, gripping her arms. “What were you thinking?” he hissed. She winced at the pressure, and he instantly released her, his face filled with concern.

“Zalie. . .” His fingers ghosted over her arms, his expression softening as he took in the sight of her sunburned skin. “Look at you. Your skin is burnt.” 

She tried to shrug off his worry, but his fingers slid down to her hands, brow creasing as he noticed the blood on her palms. “Your hands are all bloody. . .” He frowned, lifted her hands to his forehead, closing his eyes as if sheer will could heal them.

“I had to know,” she said piteously.

He sighed. “Well? What did you find out?”

“It was just a group of warlocks preparing for a blue moon ritual.” It wasn’t untrue, it just wasn’t the whole truth. She thought for a moment whether she could risk telling her brother about Lucius, but thought it best to be saved for later. Lucius was too vulnerable, and until she was certain he was safe, his existence was a secret she would guard fiercely.

Azazel continued to study her, clearly unsatisfied. “And then what?” he pressed. “Zalie, you were gone for far too long.”

She bit her lip, searching for an answer that skirted the truth without straying into a lie.

“I went to our old hideout. . .” she said hesitantly, and his face dropped.

“Oh. . .” He gently ran his thumbs over the blistered skin on her hands. “So it was the door that did this,” he murmured.

She nodded, watching him as his gaze softened, guilt replacing his initial anger. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “How is it looking down there? The hideout, I mean?”

“Moldy,” she replied, wrinkling her nose, which brought a hint of amusement back to his expression. He chuckled, his half-smile revealing the tips of his fangs, and her heart lifted.

“As expected, I suppose,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s been years since we’ve gone down there.”

“I was thinking of trying to clean it up a bit,” she said carefully, gauging his reaction. When he only shrugged, she allowed herself a smile. 

“It’s not like it is being used for anything else. I think it’ll make for a good meditation room for you,” he replied with a wry smile.

Azazel thought any room would make for a good meditation room. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about sneaking around and looking suspicious to her brother. 

She went on the points of her toes to kiss his cheek, feeling the familiar warmth of his skin under her lips. “I knew you would understand,” she murmured against his cheekbone. She felt his cheeks wrinkle up with his smile, his arms wrapping around her. 

His sudden embrace ended as quickly as it came. Holding her at arm’s length, he stepped back, his gaze sharpening once again as he took her in, his hands resting at her waist. “Azalie, why are you so thin?”

She groaned internally. Starvation does that to you, she wanted to say, but she knew that he would most definitely over react if he ever knew. “I did only have that one glass of fresh blood since returning,” she said lightly, then added, “and I was out in the sun today. . .” she paused, mid-excuse, with a sudden thought. With the attack that happened the other night, was their father even going to allow them to travel back and forth to the Mother of Pearl to feed? She bit at her bottom lip, her stomach clenching in protest.

“Zalie? What’s wrong?” Azazel’s voice was softer now, and she glanced up, his expression dark with concern.

She slipped out of his embrace, moving to sit at the edge of her bed. “The attack the other night. . . Has Father said anything about it? Will we still be able to get blood from the Mother of Pearl?”

Azazel followed her, settling beside her on the bed. The fur of his coat brushed against her face, and she found comfort in the softness, pressing her cheek against his shoulder.

“Father hasn’t said a word yet, but I don’t see why he’d prevent us. Unless… you suspect he might?” he added curiously as his hand absentmindedly combed through her tangled silver hair.

Azalie took a shaky breath. Their father had a possessive nature, and when danger arose, he had little hesitation about keeping them confined to the estate for long durations of time. The attack had left her rattled, and she couldn’t ignore the nagging dread that he might decide to keep them under lock and key. “You know how Father gets…,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper.

“You’re not the only one who has some concerns, though,” her brother said. He could read his sister’s face like one of her beloved books. There was no hiding her worry from him. “I have spoken with some of the other residents about their thoughts on the bad blood situation, and they hold the same fears. We’re still getting our regular shipments of bottled blood from the Mother of Pearl and the other blood dens, but no one wants to drink from them, even though they are claimed safe.”

Azalie let out a sigh. Well, that wasn’t too surprising about the Others. She would be more worried if they didn’t care about the possibility of getting sick from the tainted blood. Sure the bottles are deemed safe, but by who? Her kind was cautious by nature. No one was going to willingly test the blood for purity on the off chance that it wasn’t.

“I still feel we could have had this blood issue solved by now,” Azalie complained, rubbing her face into the fur of Azazel’s coat.

Azazel stroked her hair with soothing motions. “I know it bothers you, Zalie. But if Father is taking this long to deal with it, maybe he was right not to involve us.”

Azalie grumbled under her breath in Romanian, frustrated by his reasonableness. But he had a point. She had only just returned, and this issue had been going on for weeks. Father was not one to drag his heels. When he wanted something done, it got done, simple as that. So maybe her twin was right, maybe this entire issue was too much for them alone to handle, and that’s why Molch didn’t want them investigating. Still, the stagnation gnawed at her.

“You always get so irritable when you’re left out of things or hungry,” he teased, nudging her lightly as he reached for her lip, gently pulling it free of her fang. “I can’t help with filling you in, but there is something I can help with. . .” he whispered into her hair.

For a moment, she foolishly thought he had meant he had a secret stash of preserved blood hidden in his room somewhere, until the scent of his Mediterranean cologne danced in the air from around his neck. It was a light and faded scent that told her he hadn’t showered or slept yet.

He waited up the whole daytime for me to come back. She picked her head up off his shoulder and stared at him, his silk blue tie hung loose around his neck.

“Zel, you’re not offering what I think you’re offering, right?” she asked. He didn’t respond, only sat there staring at her with his golden-yellow eyes, and that playfully serious smirk on his lips. He wanted her to feed from him again.

She sighed. Her hand found his silk tie, fingers curling around the fabric, yanking him close. His eyes widened as her lips brushed the smooth contour of his neck, her hand tight on the tie.

She was starving, and his blood had tasted like bliss. If she drank from him now, she knew she would feel better, but she couldn’t. His blood, as delicious as it was, wasn’t really going to help her. If vampyres could survive off of feeding from one another then they would have no need for human blood anymore.

A vampyre drinking vampyre blood held about the same nutritional value as a human eating gelato at every meal.

She kissed his neck and noosed up his necktie. He gagged, startled.

“Zel, you haven’t even slept, nor have you fed yourself. Why would I allow you to let me feed from you?” she said sternly.

He coughed as he tried to pull his tie looser. “And how would you know any of that if you weren’t here?” he asked cheekily after he cleared his throat. 

She crossed her arms, giving him a knowing glare.

He sighed, relenting with an eye roll. “Fine, yes, you’re right.” Throwing his hands up in surrender, then dropping them into his lap before he continued again. “But Zalie, you’ve barely had anything since coming home. Are you still feeling sick?”

“Zel, I told you I feel fine. After I had that fresh blood, everything felt better.”

“Zalie, you couldn’t possibly have felt ‘better’ from that meager amount.” His voice turned serious, his eyes flickering with concern. “That’s why you passed out from the exertion of using your ice ability. And now, you’ve taken a very apparent stroll outside in the sun and have come back looking like a cooked lobster,” he argued. 

Azalie’s lips twitched in surprise that he knew what a lobster was and what it looked like cooked. But her stomach twisted painfully at the thought of blood, a hunger pang sharper than the rest. Her voice softened as she gazed down, masking her discomfort. “Zel, I appreciate you wanting to help me, but we both know that’s not what will help me.” 

Though she knew if she didn’t feed soon, she’d be useless if another attack came—and worse, useless to Lucius.

Lucius. His image resurfaced unbidden: the curling ends of his dark brown hair, the oceanic blue of his eyes, and that charming, dazzling smile. He was quite handsome . . . her throat caught again. No. She mentally shook herself. She couldn’t allow herself to feel that way about him. She was only helping him. And to keep him safe, she needed to be strong. He would have wanted her healthy enough to protect Lucius.

Azalie winced as Azazel ran his fingers through her tangled hair, his hands working through each knot with care. “I know it’s not really what you need,” he murmured, “but it’ll help ease the cravings. Just until we know Father’s plans.” 

She pulled her knees to her chest, turning her back toward him to make it easier for him to work on her hair. Quiet settled around them, the kind she usually enjoyed, but this time it felt tense. She resisted the urge to answer him; any response would only invite him to keep pressing the matter until she caved. He hardly ever acted this stubbornly. In fact, it was usually her pressing him into things. She was the instigator of the two of them, the problem creator. She was also the problem solver.

Azazel was the ever-willing accomplice, never questioning her choices, even when they were rash and reckless. If she had ever wished to throw herself off a cliff, he would follow without a second thought. Now, he was grabbing her arm, holding her back, saying let’s walk down instead.

She’d only been gone a month, a mere fraction of time, yet it felt as if a full lifetime of change had happened in her absence. Deep down,she had always hoped her brother would come into himself, step out from her shadow and become more assertive. Now that he had, it peeved her. Perhaps because this transformation had not come at her influence?

Maybe that’s why she did what she did with him. His outcome was out of her control and that, she thought, is what tore her up inside—not just the guilt of being unable to save him. No, her failure then was not due to incapability but to a lack of courage. She wouldn’t repeat that mistake, not with Lucius.

Her father’s reasons for targeting Lucius were still a mystery, though if it had anything to do with the illicit practices his family engaged in—the sacrifices—that would be her guess. But without confirmation, she could only speculate. And she knew better than to ask. All she could do now was keep Lucius hidden from everyone and help him become free of that mark. She’d refused to lose someone else to her father’s will.

“Zel,” she said softly, pulling her thoughts back to the present. “If you truly want to help me, then help me solve this blood crisis. Help me figure out what’s happening so we can have our fresh blood again.”

Azazel’s fingers stilled in her hair, and his sigh carried a note of resigned patience. “Zalie, we’ve been through this already. We can’t work on this assignment. Speculating about it is one thing, actively investigating is another. I’m being lenient and overlooking  your little excursion, but I will not be one to incur Father’s wrath.”

She whipped around furiously, her eyes a blaze of gold. “Since when have you cared about angering Father? We’ve always done what we needed, regardless of his approval! If he doesn’t like it, that’s his problem.”

“Zalie!” His hands clamped down on her shoulders, steadying her. “We’re still walking a web thin thread after what happened a year ago!” he reminded her angrily. 

She clicked her tongue with a scoff and turned away.

His eyes softened as he took a steadying breath, loosening his grip but keeping his hands on her shoulders, grounding them both. “Zalie, I can’t… I won’t lose you again…not again,” he whispered, his voice wavering. Azazel, usually so unshakable, let his head bow, his vulnerability on full display.

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