Shadow Touched: A Paranormal Vampire Romance (A Touch of Vampire Book 1) by Becky Moynihan (great reads TXT) 📕

important detail,” I mumbled mostly to myself, consulting the paper. I hadn’t given the words much thought the first time I’d read them, but hearing Lochlan recite the story and seeing the whole thing together made it seem so real.

“Wait, who are these three princes, and what did they do to deserve this curse?” I was guessing they must have done something really bad.

“You need to properly deal with this,” Lochlan said, tracking my progress with his eyes.

“Huh?”

“Run. Shout. Scream. Hate me for telling you. You need to process your emotions.”

I paused to glance up at him. “Despite my recent actions, I’m not much of a runner or screamer. And why should I hate you? I mean, I’m shocked—and upset about our bond thing—but this is bigger than us.”

Frustration flashed in his eyes. “You should hate me because I dragged you into this. Because you’re part of a century-long curse. Because out of the vampires who need your help, half of them want you dead. And if the curse isn’t broken in time, we’ll be stuck in our true forms forever, even during the day. How do you think humans will handle that?”

My mouth rounded in a silent O.

“Yes, oh.”

I launched into motion again, gesturing with my hands. “But we can figure this out. With your protection, I’m sure I can—”

“It’s my duty to track down the next Syphon,” he interrupted sharply. “I recite the prophecy to her if she’s unaware of it, then deliver her to King Ambrose and his council. I have to bring you in, McKenna. I’ve already broken several rules by delaying the inevitable.”

I slammed to a halt, nearly tipping over. If he was trying to shock me, he’d succeeded.

Lochlan huffed a bitter laugh at my stunned expression. “Exactly. And now you know. Now you know what my purpose here is and why I got close to you. Go ahead and hate me. They always do.”

I swayed as my world came crashing down. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. This didn’t . . . this didn’t make sense. My throat and chest tightened painfully. “They?” I whispered.

A muscle jumped in his jaw and he looked away. “The previous Syphons. ‘As one follows another, but never two.’ For nearly a century, there has always been one living Syphon, but never two at once. When she dies, a new one is born. Thus the cycle repeats itself—until the curse is broken or the one hundred years are up.”

I clutched at my stomach. “W-was my mother a—”

“No,” he quickly interjected, a tortured look on his face. “She wasn’t a Syphon. The gene is rare and often skips several generations. It’s why I’ve been on the move for nearly a century. Finding a Syphon is harder than locating a needle in a haystack. I’ve only found six in the last hundred years, including you.”

A tear slipped down my cheek and I didn’t bother wiping it away. The truth stung more than I expected. I’d known it was Lochlan’s job to find me, but knowing there had been others made me feel like a cheap game piece. Something that could be used and discarded if it didn’t measure up.

I’d foolishly thought Lochlan had searched for me alone. I’d foolishly thought he’d only protected and comforted me. And the things he made me feel? He had no doubt made others feel as well.

I wasn’t special. I wasn’t one of a kind.

Not to him.

Our time together was expiring. I was a package to be delivered to a vampire king who hated witches. Who killed them. I was a means to an end, nothing more.

I had only ever wanted the truth. My whole life, I had wished for nothing else. And now I knew one thing without a shadow of doubt.

The truth sucked.

“Do you want to reject me and our bond?” Lochlan said when the silence thickened. “You should. I wouldn’t blame you.” His jaw hardened, eyes like molten ice as he waited for my reply.

I shivered. It wasn’t his frigid expression that chilled me to the bone, but knowing that he wanted me to sever our bond—the one and only special connection we had.

Too much. It was too freaking much.

“I, um.” My voice cracked. I tried again, the words barely intelligible. “I’m really tired. I just . . . I need a little time to think. Please.”

Unable to face him, I lowered my gaze. The only sign that he’d heard my words was to ball his hands into fists. He squeezed them so hard that his claws punctured his skin. I winced as blood trickled over his knuckles and fell to the floor.

I kept my eyes averted, unable to bear seeing the coldness in his. Or worse—nothing at all. I couldn’t bear seeing the truth anymore, that everything between us had been a lie.

So I turned and crawled into bed, curling up into a tight ball beneath the covers. I didn’t hear him leave, but when the light flicked off, I knew I was alone.

Despite how exhausted I was, despite how numb with shock and sadness, I tossed and turned like I had for the past four weeks. Just when I was about to scream in utter frustration, I felt something warm and soft drop onto the mattress near my fingers. I jerked my eyes open to find him by the door, cloaked in shadow once more.

“That should help you sleep,” he said quietly, then slowly backed away.

I ached to call him back, to beg him to lay beside me. To pretend that nothing between us had changed. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Everything had changed, and there was no avoiding it. I let him go, ignoring my body as it whimpered miserably.

My fingers tangled in the fabric he’d left behind. I brought it to my face, breathing deeply. His shirt. Still warm from his body heat and strong with his scent. Tears pricked my eyes and I let them fall, cradling the shirt against the hole slowly expanding inside my chest.

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