“Glad to see you survived.” I commented, my attention sliding to the woman that clung to his side.

Bridgette met my stare, her eyes strong and slender nose upturned as she nodded respectfully. She’d once looked at me like I were the enemy, analyzing the way I stood and moved as though she were searching for weak points, but not anymore. She seemed completely at ease in this quaint little house, perched on the arm of the antique sofa with a glass of what I knew to be blood in her hand.

She wasn’t the only one in the room, though. There were a few other Vampire’s, most of which had been here for a few weeks now. Two men around Asher’s age, one with hair as pale as snow and the other with curls that mirrored Giovanni’s, though they were a tad bit more unruly, were situated on a set of recliners just off to the side.

“Well, when you told me this one here was alive, I had no choice but to get back to her.” Deacon grunted, his ice-cold gaze thawing when he turned it towards Bridgette.

Asher