Chapter Twenty-One
Lior's POV
The whisky burned, but not enough. I tipped the glass back again, desperate for the fire to scorch away the memory of Riven's words.
I hate you.
The syllables were knives twisting in my chest. His eyes had been so cold, so final, like I was nothing but a curse he couldn't shake.
I slammed the glass down, shattering it against the counter. The bartender flinched but said nothing no one dared when they recognized me.
I was a storm. A mess.
Two men at a nearby table whispered, their eyes on me. I didn't wait to hear what they said. I lunged, fists colliding with flesh, the sound of bone cracking echoing in the bar. The chaos should have felt good, should have dulled the ache but it didn't. It only made the hollow deeper.
By the time they dragged me outside, blood dripped from my knuckles, my chest heaving.
And there in the alley, I felt it.
A shadow. Watching.
My head snapped up, eyes narrowing. The figure lingered, hood pulled low, faceless in the dark.
"Show yourself," I growled, but they slipped away as if they were smoke.
I hated how familiar that presence felt. Old. Powerful. Wrong.
And then it clicked.
The witch.
The one who had cursed me.
If I couldn't have Riven...if he truly hated me then I had to know why this curse still bound us, why it still burned hotter every day.
And I would find her. Even if it killed me.
---
Riven's POV
The spell pressed against my ribs like chains. Every breath was a reminder of my punishment, every heartbeat dragging me deeper into silence.
But it wasn't the council's spell that hurt the most.
It was the memory of Lior's eyes when I said those words.
I was never yours.
My hands trembled as I pressed them to my chest, trying to hold myself together. The bond still pulsed beneath the spell, faint but alive, whispering his pain, his rage, his brokenness.
And knowing I had caused it was worse than any punishment the council could ever inflict.
At night, when the house was quiet, I would curl against the wall, hands fisting the sheets, whispering apologies into the dark that he would never hear.
But I couldn't go back.
Not now.
Not when the council was watching.
Not when shadows lingered outside my window, too still, too patient.
---
Lior's POV
The next night, I followed the trail.
Through forests. Through abandoned roads. The shadows always a step ahead, always just far enough to pull me deeper.
And there she was.
The witch.
Sitting at the edge of a fire, eyes glowing like coals, lips curled in a cruel smile.
"You should not have come," she said, her voice smooth, venomous. "The curse is not just your punishment, vampire. It is your chain."
My chest tightened, fury and desperation clashing in my veins.
"Then break it," I snarled. "Or I'll break you."
Her laughter echoed like a thousand knives.
"You think love makes you strong?" she whispered, rising, her shadow stretching taller than the trees. "It makes you weak. And that weakness is why he will never truly be yours."
Her words cut deeper than any blade.
But I wasn't leaving without answers.
Not this time.