Leonid was in the process of lowering his mouth to the bloody palm when he hesitated. “Bonded?” he whispered almost inaudibly.
“To the depth of our souls,” Cord confirmed on a whisper.
Leonid gave a sigh. “Of course you would be.” His fangs pierced deeply into the fleshy part of Cord’s palm, ignoring the cut the Castor had made. His first pull was more than he took the first night. Blood, sweet and salty, burst onto his tongue, and he took another long pull, almost forgetting to savour the rich flavour. He could taste the Flare in the Castor’s blood. It was one of the reasons he never drank from a Castor, their Flare tainted the taste. However, he was out of options. Where the Castor saw snow and sparse terrain, Leonid saw the cloud of Darkness that waited patiently. The taste of the Castor’s power made Leonid’s eyes widen fractionally. So much power, he could taste more than the Flare, there was something else. Something almostancient. His mouth moved, and his fangs pierced the vein on the Castor’s wrist.
He needed more. With another deep drink, Leonid felt it in his bones. Hastily, he tossed the Castor’s arm away as he backed up and looked at the young male. He was no more than twenty-one, maybe slightly older, his blood should not beold.
With a shaky hand, Leonid wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and watched in wonder as the Castor’s wounds healed. “Who?” he asked. “Of course,” he said almost as quickly without giving Cord a chance to answer. “You bear it?”
“I do.”
Leonid’s eyes closed in resignation. “Are you here for it or her?”
“Both.” Cord rubbed his hand absentmindedly. “I need you.”
“Seems there is a list who do,” Leonid wisecracked. “I have never been so…popular.” The word felt heavy and distasteful on his tongue.
Cord threw his head back and laughed. It echoed loudly in the hollow cave. “Get used to it,” he chuckled. His shirt that he had torn off the night he made it through the barrier was back on, providing little warmth, but under his coat, it was a feeble layer of protection. As he dropped his military style jacket to the ground, he pulled his tattered shirt over his head. With a long assessing look at Leonid, he turned, giving the Vampyre his back.
“Don’t,” Leonid whispered before he was draping Cord’s jacket over his shoulders. “We are not alone, Castor,” he warned with a pointed look.
“You canseeit,” Cord realised aloud as he gripped Leonid’s hand as the Made moved away. “Show me.”
Leonid shook his head slowly. “It is literally right outside. What keeps us in, keeps it out.”
Cord spun to look at the entrance. “Velvore,” he breathed in understanding. “It is notitthat keeps us in here,” Cord said with clarity. “You clever trickster,” he murmured as he fastened his coat. His Mark tingled, and he shook his head. “Me or him? Who are you protecting?” The Mark pulsed, and Cord nodded. “I understand,” he muttered as he looked over his shoulder at the Vampyre.
Leonid was tracing his neck, the wound all but healed, though it had been there too long not to scar his flesh. Colour was in his cheeks; his hair, still dirty, looked thicker; and his lips, which had been drawn back in decay, were once again full. More importantly, his once white-filmed eyes were clear and icy blue.
The Made looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “Now?”
Cord smiled and extended his hand. “I need to see what you see outside,” he said firmly. “Let me in,” he ordered.
“The Lycans shared their gift.” Leonid looked surprised.
“I’m special like that,” Cord deadpanned.
Leonid assessed him, the look was long, and Cord knew the Vampyre found him lacking. To his surprise, Leonid held his hand out, palm upturned. “Do not react,” he warned.
Cord frowned but clasped the hand offered. As he faced the wall of the cave, he saw outwards. The black smoke fully enveloped the opening. There was no daylight getting through. Cord knew he had been seeing snow, natural rock formations,wildlife, but Leonid only saw the deep black. There was nothing, there was no sliver of light permeating through. There was no way through it or around it.
Cord looked closer as he felt it press against whatever was holding it back. Wisps of smoke escaped, but they came up against a hard resistance. Cord smiled as he let go of Leonid’s hand.
“Tricky trickster,” he admonished as he turned. Unthinkingly, his hand stretched over his shoulder and patted his own back. “Excellent work,” he praised as he took a step and felt it for the first time.
“Castor?”
“It is okay, we are ready.”
“I have no doubt, but for what?”
Cord went to reply that he sounded like Tegan before his mirth died on his tongue. He turned to the older Akrhyn. “You cannot take her from me,” he began. “She is important. To this.” His hand gestured behind him to the Darkness outside.
Leonid’s head cocked to the side slightly. “I understand she has a part to play.”
Cord nodded as he frowned. “She does, but she will want to leave with you, if we survive.” Cord looked up into steady, blue, ageless eyes. Filled with knowledge, filled with wisdom, somehow seeing him more clearly than any had ever been allowed. “You cannot take her from me,” Cord repeated more firmly.
“I will not force her to stay.”