The Coven (Coven of Bones, #1)(31)

“She did not die,” she said, and the solemnity in her voice told me that she knew that had not been a blessing. That she’d spent an eternity unable to heal herself; her body separated and scattered. The finger bones that remained in the pouch the Hecate line had carried with them were but a fragment of her, and even those bones could not allow her to be with her family in death.

It was cruel, perhaps the most heinous of acts committed by the Covenant in their thirst for power.

“You are not Charlotte Hecate, Witchling,” I said.

The warning hung between us, unspoken. There was no point in reminding her that she should not endeavor to be like the witch who had suffered endlessly.

“No,” she said, leaning forward.

I gripped her wrist harder, feeling her fingers flex beneath the strength of my grip as she pushed it to the side and bent her head back, staring up at me. I leaned toward her, meeting her halfway, drawn in by the mischievous glimmer in that stare. Her tongue ran over her bottom teeth lightly as she paused with her mouth just a breath from mine.

“But I am brazen enough to make a deal with the devil like she did.”

Her words sent a chill through me, understanding that the young thing didn’t have the first clue what she was dealing with. What kind of horror those words and that promise could bring upon her life. I held very still as she brushed her lips against mine, huffing a slight laugh as her scent filled my lungs.

“You’re very easy to seduce for someone who has such patience,” she said, and my eyes drifted closed as the hum she emitted seemed to sink inside me.

Like a siren calling me to the sea, there was something unnatural in that noise. In the voice that was more of a song than spoken words.

“Patience has nothing to do with us.”

She raised her hand at the same moment I did, touching the side of my neck with her open palm. The heat of her skin was like a brand, thriving and alive in ways that my Vessel had never been.

It had been an eternity since I’d felt that warmth inside of me, since the warmth of any bedmate seemed to penetrate the cold of my flesh.

Yet one touch from her and my eyes drifted closed.

She pursed her lips against mine, the lightest kiss I thought I’d ever received. I felt the touch down to my toes, as if she could breathe life into me, when the one who’d formed this body had been in charge of the dead.

If Charlotte Hecate was death itself, Willow Madizza felt like life.

She pulled back just enough, her point made when it felt like she’d turned me to Jell-O in her hands. My eyes fluttered open slowly, staring down into her eyes that I had the distinct feeling she’d never bothered to close.

“There is no us,” she said, her voice the softest of murmurs. Something cruel lived in that whisper, the harsh edges hinting at the rejection I’d given her earlier.

I thrust my hand into her hair, gripping it and tugging her head back as I bared my fangs at the sudden change in her expression.

“This feels like there is,” I growled, grinding forward until she could feel my cock straining against my slacks.

She shuddered, a ragged breath leaving her as she glared up at me.

“I am not a toy. Why would I settle for the scraps of your attention when I could have another on his knees and ready to give me anything I asked for with nothing more than a word?” she asked, but her body swayed forward, pushing into my touch rather than moving away from it.

“Then why are you here?” I asked, tugging her head to the side so that I could lean forward, dragging my lips over the side of her throat. She shuddered, and I smiled against the skin, letting her feel the press of my fangs.

“To show you exactly what he’ll have that you won’t. So that when you next come into my room while I’m sleeping, you might at least hesitate before you decide to pretend you do not want me the next day,” she said.

Every bone in my body stilled.

I pulled back, staring down at her in surprise. “You were asleep,” I said, not even bothering to pretend I didn’t know what she was talking about. There was a confidence in her words and the way she spoke them, leaving me with the reality that she had no doubt I’d been there.

“I was,” she agreed, not offering any more information as I studied that guarded stare of hers. “That does not mean I could not smell you all over me when I woke. The roses confirmed what I already suspected.”

“The roses? They spoke to you?” I asked, wondering when the last time I’d heard of a Green communing with nature had been.

“They’ll speak to any Green. Most are just too ignorant to listen,” she said, twisting her head in my grip as if she could pull free, but I refused to release her. “I wonder what the Covenant would think if they were to discover you violated me in my sleep.”

“I did no such thing,” I argued.

“Right. Taking off my clothes while I slept was entirely innocent—”

“You looked uncomfortable, but I did not touch you beyond that. Make no mistake, I want you to scream my name the first time I fuck you, not sleep through it, Witchling,” I said with a snarl, dropping my head back to her neck. The need to feed on her was overwhelming, growing with each moment she spent pissing me off. I wanted to remind her what I was.

Who I was.

“If you ever touch me, I’ll be sure to think of anyone but you. I won’t be able to enjoy it otherwise,” she said, making me snap at her throat. She shuddered in my hold as my teeth grazed her skin, and a callous chuckle slipped free as I raised my mouth to her ear.