The Coven (Coven of Bones, #1)(55)

I was at Hollow’s Grove. My father couldn’t touch me.

Couldn’t punish me when I disobeyed him on the weekends he brought me to his cabin.

Della raised my wrists to the hook, looping the chain over it. Only the clanking of them filled my ears over the sound of my own harsh, ragged breathing.

I felt when she stepped away. The chain rose, dragging me up onto my toes as my arms pulled tight over my head.

“It will be over soon, Willow,” she said, her footsteps fading away.

Then she was gone, and I was alone again.

Alone in my own personal Hell.





26





GRAY





She waited, suspended from the ceiling.

A single breath in. A single breath out.

All I could hear was her racing heart as it filled the room. I stepped in, watching as she flinched from the sound of my footsteps. Branches scraped over the window outside, making her spin her head in the other direction.

She squirmed where the other witch had helped her string herself up, and I could just imagine the ache that had built in her shoulders. I’d kept her waiting, wanting her dread and anticipation to simmer in her blood before I came to her.

It made it taste all the sweeter.

She’d lost sight of what the Vessels were, of who we were meant to be. She needed the reminder of what I was capable of and what I was not. A Vessel could never love her. She’d never be anything more than a convenience and a toy.

She swallowed loudly, struggling as her toes slipped out from under her. She gasped, her breath coming in deep, shuddering breaths as her mouth dropped open in panic.

What the Hell?

I took another step toward her, watching as her body went perfectly still. I resisted the urge to speak, keeping my voice silent because of the knowledge that she would recognize it. Even though I wanted to comfort her, to calm her racing heart, I knew that once I spoke, the game would be over.

And I so very much wanted to play.

The blindfold remained tightly fastened around her head despite her best efforts. I stepped up behind her, letting her feel the weight of my presence. She managed to get her feet beneath her once again, pressing up into her hands just slightly and taking some weight off her shoulders.

I rested a hand on her hip, my fingers gently stroking over the silken fabric as she stilled. It pleased me that she hadn’t chosen the lace nightgown, refusing to allow a stranger to take what was mine. It didn’t matter to me that I would have been the one to fuck her, despite her intent.

Her plan to give her body to another would have been enough to make me punish her.

I wanted her as obsessed with me as I was with her. It would be the perfect karma for the way she’d slithered beneath the surface of what made me, making herself at home in my soul.

Her breath raced, wheezing out of her lungs as she headed toward a full-blown panic attack. “Just get it over with,” she growled, trying even now to regain some of the control I’d taken. Her heart throbbed in tune with her words — pounding so hard and fast that I felt it in her hip.

I wrapped my hand around the front of her body, pressing my palm into the bare skin of her chest and feeling her pulse. Her heartbeat.

Her body shook, trembling with fear of that which she could not see.

In the time I’d known Willow, I had only seen her afraid in the moments when the Covenant threatened to put her into the deep sleep. Whatever had caused this fear, I vowed to learn the cause.

A woman like Willow was not meant to be afraid.

My other hand rose from her hip as I moved beside her, leaning into her arm as I trailed delicate fingers up her spine. I traced the addictive tree tattoo there, tickling over the trunk through the silk until the fabric ended. My touch shifted to bare skin, her warmth seeping inside me in spite of the distinctive chill to her.

She sighed, releasing a slow breath. Her next inhale shuddered, her lungs filling completely finally. Sweeping her hair to the side, I revealed a shoulder and her nape as I curved my body around to her back and removed my hand from her chest.

I buried my fingers in her hair, tugging her head back firmly as she gasped. I trailed my nose over her jaw for a moment, offering her a single moment of affection and trying to shove away the remnants of her panic.

Of the fear I didn’t understand.

She’d been fed from before. She’d given blood before.

None of it made sense, but I knew without a doubt I would do whatever it took to get to the bottom of it.

Using my hand in her hair, I guided her head to the side. Twisting it to give me a better angle to reach her neck. My breath wafted over her skin, sending a shiver through her body. My fangs trailed over her skin for a moment.

Taunting. Teasing.

I sunk them into her, the sweet taste of her covering my tongue. I drank as she went lax in my grip, moaning her pleasure.

Pleasure I wouldn’t allow her to reach when she thought I was someone else. I bit down harder, incapable of controlling my anger at her being aroused with someone else. This was the reminder I’d wanted.

All witches were the same, and only good for one thing.

The more of her blood filled me, the more I felt renewed.

Awakened, somehow, and I never wanted it to end.





The witch wrung her hands as she stepped into the open door. She reached up, knocking on the doorjamb as if I wasn’t already looking at her.