all of the space, as usual. Your arms were outstretched to me, an irresistible invitation.
I laid my weapons at our bedside and lowered myself next to you. I drew you into my arms, so that I might make us both more comfortable. I’d grown accustomed to the shape and luster of your lion eyes, the way they slanted downward toward your cat-like muzzle. Bloodborn child of the sun… the Grigori prophecy haunted me. Revolutionaries seldom met with peaceful ends.
“Don’t be mad at me,” you said, reading my studious expression as something else.
“I’m not mad at you.” I wasn’t really. I was adapting to your power and persuasion. Figuring out how to navigate our relationship when a simple order was no longer sufficient.
“I don’t like it when we fight,” you admitted.
“No? But I love it.”
You scowled at my sarcasm and tilted your head so that you could look at me. “I’m sorry that you don’t always agree with me.”
I very nearly laughed at that. “I’m sorry you’re so maddeningly stubborn.”
“I forgive you,” you said magnanimously, and then, nuzzling closer, “Pet me till I fall asleep.”
“Yes, your majesty.” I tunneled my fingers in your silky hair and stroked you, the sensation soothing to me as well.
“You’re going to turn me into a spoiled brat,” you murmured, already drifting off to sleep.
I shook my head, smiling. “Too late.”
We fell into a rhythm, this strange assembly of beings united toward one purpose. We each had our differing motivations, but we could all agree that after rehabilitating Lena, getting out of the mine was our top priority.
Through several trips to the beastborn’s lair, Lucian was able to retrieve oil lamps, a cot, and various medical supplies to aid in Lena’s recovery. Seneser confirmed my suspicions about his character and abandoned Maxwell altogether, which meant we were left with the task of preventing the human from slipping into insanity. Not surprisingly, you and he became friends. The two of you were only a few years apart in age, and there was little to do besides idle our time in conversation. Maxwell had quite a lot of questions about our existence, especially with regard to Lena’s prolonged resurrection, and you took the time to answer him patiently. There were rules about imparting knowledge onto humans, but, due to these unusual circumstance, Maxwell was well within his rights to know.
The human was still rather wary of me due to the injury I’d inflicted on his person, though Lucian assured me it had healed well enough.
Ashur’s stores provided us with food and blood, and you nested our dank enclosure with as many creature comforts as were available. You wisely placed Ashur and me on opposing sides of the cave while you and Lucian took up posts on either side of Lena. You devoted yourself to assisting Lucian, trading off duties when one of you grew weary. Nursing suited you far better than hunting demons, in my opinion.
Not that we would have the option to go back to that life anyway.
Caregiving kept you busy, which left me with too much time to fret about our uncertain future. A couple days into her recovery, while Lucian and the others were making a supply run, and you and I were dozing on our shared bedroll, Lena uttered her first word.
“Lucian,” she said, little more than a hiss.
Your bright eyes flashed open, and you went immediately to her bedside. She didn’t yet have the faculty to move her limbs, but she blinked her translucent eyelids and searched the dimly lit space until her sluggish gaze connected with yours.
“Mater,” you said with elation and carefully folded your hand over her skeletal fingers.
“Vincere?” she whispered. Her eyes leaked moisture. Crocodile tears.
You placed a gentle kiss on her forehead where the pink skin flaked like chalk. The blood we’d been applying, both topically and internally, gave her a truly gruesome appearance. Her eyes tracked your face, drinking you in.
At last her gaze shifted toward me and her cracked lips parted. “Not like this,” she rasped bitterly. She’d always been vain, especially while inhabiting her bloodborn body, so I figured that she hadn’t wanted you to see her in this diminished state. One of her vipers managed to rear its head and make a stab at me. I certainly hadn’t missed that.
“You’re the one who chewed off your own foot and got lost in a mine,” I reminded her.
Her lips raised at their corners and she snarled. Her teeth were still stunning—alabaster white and cruelly sharp.
“Mater,” you