The Coven (Coven of Bones, #1)(64)

“Going somewhere, love?” he asked, taking slow, measured steps toward me. Even with the predatory way he watched me, he dropped his outstretched hand to his side.

“How did you do that?” I asked, my eyes widening in realization. We were still alone in the room, no sign of any witches I hadn’t seen before to close the door.

He smiled slowly, his fangs gleaming at the corner of his mouth. “One of the reasons the Covenant decided we could no longer pair bond with witches was because of the addiction it created and the secret relationships it encouraged between our kinds,” he said, reiterating the words Iban had told me before. “But that wasn’t the only reason.”

“Why else did they end the pair bonds?” I asked, swallowing as he finally reached me.

He pushed a wet strand of hair back from where it had plastered itself to my face, staring down at me intently. “Because if a Vessel feeds from the same witch repeatedly, if it is that one witch’s blood exclusively that flows through veins, we get the magic that goes with it. Not the same as the witch possesses, but enough for little tricks.”

“But during the Reaping…” I sighed, my brow twisting with confusion. He’d fed on someone else then, while another Vessel took my blood for his dinner.

“You think I would allow anyone but me to touch you?” he asked, chuckling as he slid his hand to my nape. He trailed his fingers over the tree there, the touch so similar to the man who’d fed from me that realization dawned.

“You asshole!” I shrieked, placing my hands on his chest and shoving him back.

The cold malice of his laughter spread through the room, raising the hair on my arms as he leaned away from me and grasped my chin between two fingers. “Careful, love. You just might come close to admitting you wanted it to be me.”

“Fuck you,” I rasped, slumping against the door. I’d been panicking, struggling with my feelings for him, and he’d been playing games with me the entire time.

“You’re so focused on the Reaping that you haven’t even stopped to consider the greater concern, have you?” he asked, leaning down to touch his mouth to mine. He paused there, steely eyes staring at me as his fang touched my lip when he smirked. “I can feel your magic flowing through me—even the faintest whisper of what you cannot touch.”

I froze, my body going still as I stared up at him in horror. I swallowed as he wrapped his palm around the front of my throat—shoving me into the door and pinning me there. I struggled against his grasp, the terror clawing at me making me frantic as I scratched his arms with my nails.

“Gray, please—”

He reached up, wiping a terrified tear from my face and ignoring the way I fought against him.

“I’ve known exactly what you are for quite some time, Witchling.”





31





WILLOW





I couldn’t breathe. Even though his grip wasn’t tight on my throat, there was no air in my lungs. I stretched out with my magic in a panic, reaching for the trees outside the windows.

“No,” Gray said, the simple command rocking through me as he forced me to hold his gaze. The compulsion slithered inside me, shutting down the flow of magic where it began.

“Just kill me and get it over with then,” I wheezed, sinking my nails into his skin. His blood welled beneath them, staining my fingertips. He tipped his head to the side as he bared his teeth at me, but there was no force behind the gesture.

If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought he liked it when I bled him.

“If I wanted you dead, I’d have killed you already,” he said, leaning forward to rub his nose against the length of mine. The affection of that moment while he held me pinned to the door was too much, shoving past that horrible numbness that had spread at the realization that I’d been doomed before I ever even began.

I would never stand a chance at finding the bones now.

I raised my leg, stomping my heel down onto his bare foot in my rage.

“That hurt,” he growled, glaring down at me as he readjusted his stance. Meeting that glare with one of my own, I spit in his face.

The splash of moisture struck him in the cheek, and his gaze shuttered as everything in him stilled. He reached up with his free hand, gathering the shirt I’d thrown on in my haste to escape, and used it to wipe his cheek clean.

One moment, I was pressed against the door.

The next, I lay on my back.

The mattress was firm against my spine. Nausea swirled in my stomach at the sheer speed that Gray had moved us. There had been nothing but a blur—his hand at my throat, lifting my weight from the floor before he threw me to the bed.

“That was rude,” he growled, shoving my legs apart as I kicked at him. Maneuvering his hips between my thighs, I thanked everything that was holy for the fabric of his towel separating us.

“If you aren’t going to kill me, then get the fuck off me,” I snapped, struggling beneath him. “You lied to me!”

“I don’t think you’re in any place to make judgments about my dishonesty. What exactly did you have planned for me after you found the bones, love?” he asked, his fingers squeezing my throat as if he needed the help to get my attention.

I let my eyes drift closed, my brow twisting with the pain of having to admit what I never wanted to think about. “I didn’t want to do it,” I said, my voice sounding far more hollow than I cared for.