Colson

The Warmth That Shouldn’t Exist

Colson POV

Ezra didn’t look up when I entered.

That was deliberate.

He liked to remind people that their presence was optional, even when it wasn’t. I waited anyway, hands loose at my sides, posture relaxed, expression bored—an old trick, but a reliable one.

“You’re early,” Ezra said at last.

“Missed you,” I replied. “Thought I’d brighten your morning.”

A pause.

Then a quiet, amused huff. “You’ve always had impeccable timing.”

I shrugged. “I aim to disappoint expectations.”

He finally looked at me then, eyes sharp and calculating, already dissecting whatever version of myself I’d chosen to wear today. Ezra was very good at that. He didn’t just own people—he catalogued them.

“I have a task,” he said.

I leaned back against the wall instead of sitting. A small rebellion. One I knew he’d allow.

“Let me guess,” I said. “Someone’s lying, someone’s bleeding, or someone’s about to do both.”

“Witches,” Ezra replied.

I blinked once. “Oh. Festive.”

“A rumor,” he continued. “Persistent. Annoying. One that refuses to die no matter how many throats I cut.”

“Have you tried cutting different throats?” I asked helpfully. “Sometimes variety helps.”

His lips twitched despite himself.

“Original blood,” he went on. “A lineage older than the covens. Not diluted. Not fractured. An anchor line. More on what was learned at the pit

I felt it then—the echo of memory clicking into place.

This was the job.

The one I’d laughed off. The one I’d refused because it took me out of the city for an entire day and interfered with my preferred vices.

The one Amaris had sent me back to fix.

“In the outskirts,” Ezra said. “Beyond the city wards. You’ll listen. You’ll observe. You’ll confirm whether the rumor has substance.”

“And if it does?” I asked.

His smile was thin. “You’ll bring me everything.”

I tapped two fingers against the wall. “And if it doesn’t?”

“Then you’ll have enjoyed a quiet walk,” he replied smoothly. “I doubt that will be the case.”

I considered him for a moment longer than necessary.

This was where I’d declined before.

Where I’d waved it off and said I had better things to do—blood, booze, a city that let me forget myself.

This time, I smiled.

“Sounds charming,” I said. “Fresh air, paranoid witches, existential dread. How could I resist?”

Ezra’s eyes narrowed just a fraction.

“You’re accepting.”

“Shockingly,” I agreed. “I woke up feeling adventurous.”

“That’s not like you.”

I grinned. “Growth.”

He studied me, suspicion curling behind his gaze. “You’ve never liked leaving the city.”

I shrugged. “Even monsters get cabin fever.”

Silence stretched. Ezra let it—always testing to see who would fill it first.

I didn’t.

Finally, he nodded. “You leave immediately.”

“Of course,” I said lightly. “I’ll pack my emotional baggage.”

As I turned to go, Ezra spoke again.

“One thing, Colson.”

I paused, glancing back.

“Try not to enjoy this too much,” he said. “I need you focused.”

I smiled wide and sharp. “Ezra, when have I ever enjoyed myself?”

That earned me a laugh—real, quiet, dangerous.

I left before he could say anything else.

The halls blurred together as I walked, my mind already splitting—half playing the obedient asset, half cataloguing every word Ezra had chosen. He was hunting something specific. Something he believed could be controlled.

That was always his mistake.

Outside, the city wrapped around me like a familiar vice. I passed places I remembered bleeding in. Places I’d fed. Places I’d laughed too hard and cared too little.

And then I reached the boundary.

The wards parted without resistance.

And the warmth hit me.

I stopped dead.

“What the hell,” I muttered.

It bloomed slowly in my chest, spreading outward like heat sinking into frozen limbs. Vampires didn’t feel warmth like this—not unless something was very wrong or very right.

Neither option reassured me.

“Well,” I said to no one, “that’s new.”

I knew what it meant anyway.

Amaris.

Somewhere ahead, beyond the city’s rot and cages, she existed—free, unbroken, unaware that one day she’d love a vampire stupid enough to walk willingly back into hell for her.

I shook my head. “Figures.”

As I continued walking, memory pressed in from all sides.

I remembered the day Zane killed Ezra.

Not just the violence—though there had been plenty of that—but the moment afterward. The silence. The absence. The sudden realization that the chain around my throat was gone.

I’d felt… light.

Free in a way that had terrified me.

I’d hidden that feeling well. Laughed it off. Pretended it meant nothing.

Now, walking away from the city Ezra still owned, the contrast was unbearable.

“How did I let my life go to s**t like that,” I muttered.

Old Colson hadn’t minded.

Old Colson had called it purpose.

Current Colson knew better.

The road stretched ahead, quieter, darker, less poisoned by ambition. Each step felt like a small act of rebellion—against Ezra, against my past, against the version of myself that had been content to rot.

The warmth pulsed again.

“Don’t get any ideas,” I told it. “This is a professional detour.”

But my thoughts betrayed me anyway.

What would happen if I saw her now?

Would she recognize me? Would she sense the bond that hadn’t technically formed yet? Or would I just be another vampire crossing her path—dangerous, forgettable, temporary?

And if she didn’t know me…

What if I helped her anyway?

Guided her. Protected her. Changed the timing just enough that the future bent instead of shattered.

“That’s how paradoxes start,” I muttered. “Or love stories. Hard to tell.”

I snorted at myself, the sound echoing faintly in the open air.

“Get it together,” I said. “You’re here for witches, not romance.”

Still, the warmth didn’t fade.

It stayed with me as the city fell behind and the world widened. As I followed a path I’d once refused to walk.

I’d changed a choice.

And whether that saved the future or doomed it…

I was about to find out.

I rolled my shoulders, letting a familiar grin settle into place—the one Ezra trusted, the one enemies feared.

“Well,” I said to the road ahead, “let’s see what kind of trouble I’m getting into today.”

The warmth answered like a heartbeat.

And for the first time in a long while, I didn’t feel entirely alone walking into the dark.