Bonds of the Vampire King (Blood Fire Saga Book 7) by Bella Klaus (romantic books to read TXT) 📗

over my shoulder at Big Felipei’s retreating back, wondering if he’d brought me to the right place. “Is this Sybil?”

“Which one?”

Frustration roiled in my belly, and I exhaled a breath through flared nostrils. I’d be damned if I called her Syphilis Syb. “The woman in denim who said she could help me get rid of a soul bond?”

The door opened a few inches, and Sybil peered out at me with narrow eyes. “Can you pay?”

“That depends on your credentials.” I folded my arms across my chest. “What makes you think you can do anything when Healer Asena can’t?”

“Maybe because I used to be the foremost healer in Lunaris,” she said, her voice bitter and harsh. “Maybe because I wrote a thesis on soulmate bonding at the University of Logris. Or it could be that maybe I’m a seer.”

I straightened, blinking over and over, studying the woman’s face and posture. Fury burned in her eyes, along with a confidence that told me she really was telling the truth. Maybe she had fallen from grace at some point, and the wolves had turned on her, just like the young woman I’d met in Beowulf’s hideout.

“Do you take cards?” I reached into my pocket.

“Gold.”

I rifled through my other pocket and extracted the chain Valentine had used to hang the engagement ring around his neck. “How about this?”

The door opened a few more inches—enough for Sybil to poke out her head and sniff. “I can’t give you change.”

“That’s fine.”

Sybil moved aside, opening the door wider, and flicked her head toward the interior of her home. As I stepped over the threshold, she held out her palm. “Gold first.”

“Alright.” I dropped the chain into her palm and continued into her home.

I had expected a ramshackle interior with crumbling floors so infested with woodworm that I would have to place a hand on slimy walls so as not to fall into the cellar—a miniature version of the dilapidated mansion, I supposed.

Sybil’s house was just as warm and as welcoming as Istabelle’s bunker or Mrs. Meg’s cottage, with oak floors, and a pair of tan leather sofas situated around a large, rustic coffee table. A chandelier of candles provided soft lighting, as did an array of floor lamps and table lamps with cream-colored shades.

A fire crackled in the background, filling the room with the sweet scent of burning applewood.

“You have a lovely home,” I said.

Sybil pocketed the gold chain. “If anyone knows I’ve treated you—”

“I won’t tell anyone.” The words tumbled from my lips. “But why would someone so accomplished be banned from practicing healing?”

She shook her head, her shoulders sagging. “If I tell you, it will cloud my third eye, and we’ll get nothing done.”

“It’s alright.” I placed a hand on her thin shoulder.

Sybil flinched. “Give me a minute, okay? Let me get changed into something more suitable.”

I stepped back and wrapped my arms around my middle, watching the taller woman retreat though a wooden door. Logris could be a brutal environment, especially for women. Look at Coral, who had started off trying to earn a living selling blood and became the plaything of vampires who took advantage of her addiction to thrall.

Sometimes, it was hard not to wonder what my life might have been like without the love and guidance of Valentine and Aunt Arianna. I glanced at the walls, taking in framed certificates with the names of Sybil and someone else.

Before I could read the name, she stepped out, clad in a white gown. Her blue hair flowed down her shoulders, appearing darker, as though she’d shaken out the powder that had turned it pale.

“Sessions work best for my perception if the patient is in contact with the wood element,” she murmured. “Are you comfortable with lying on the low table?”

I turned toward the sofas and nodded.

“Very well.” Sybil swept her arm toward the crackling fire, turning down the intensity of its flames. “Please remove your footwear and make yourself comfortable.”

I toed off my shoes and lay on the oaken table with my hands at my sides. Shallow breaths rasped in and out of my lungs, and my heart thrummed a rapid beat.

Healer Asena had speculated on how Kresnik had created the connection, but her suggestion to find someone with immense power to break our bond was near impossible. The only person I knew who was anything close hadn’t cared enough about me to save me from a pair of demons who had threatened to eat my organs.

Sybil lowered herself to the wooden floor behind me, placing both palms on my shoulders. A rush of power pulsed down my meridians, making me jolt.

“Please try to relax,” she murmured. “I use a more hands-on approach than other healers, so you may feel a little discomfort if you’re sensitive to magic.”

“Alright.” I clenched my teeth against the onslaught of rough energy coursing its way through my system. When it gathered around my heart chakra and encased it like a fist, I gasped.

“There they are,” she said. “One regular-sized soul bond and another taking up a third of your heart chakra. It’s both powerful and active.”

“Active?”

“There’s a two-way flow,” she said. “He’s putting a lot of power into you while drawing upon your reserves.”

“But I can’t feel it.”

“That’s the point of such a subtle soul bond. It’s not parasitical, so you’ll never have to worry about magical exhaustion or being drained, but it does mean that you’ll be able to use his magic, and he’ll use yours.”

I gulped, not bothering to tell her that everything Kresnik had was stolen from others. “Can you sever the bond?”

She exhaled a long breath. “I can only weaken the connection so that the link between you only lasts one lifetime.”

“How?” I asked.

“Careful unpicking, so it will snap at the first sign of fatal injury.”

“Then if he dies—”

“You’ll stay alive,” she said. “And vice versa.”

I stared into her golden eyes. “The other healers I spoke to said it wasn’t possible.”

“If they use subtle healing techniques, whereas my methods are more heavy-handed. Even