I was avoiding him.
He knew it. I knew it. I was fairly certain the entire school knew
it at this point. Two days had passed since he’d put me out of my misery in his office, and I refused to so much as think about him.
About the way he’d felt breathing into me.
“Tomorrow night, we will have our first Reaping,” Susannah said as she paced at the front of the room. Iban sat beside me, his flirty smile doing nothing to quell the rising panic within me.
Of all the things I’d known about Hollow’s Grove before coming here, the Reaping had been the one that terrified me most. It shouldn’t have mattered now that Gray had fed from me multiple times, but somehow it did. I couldn’t avoid him if he was coming to my room at night.
“As part of the bargain between our kinds, witches were required to provide blood to us in order to sustain our physical forms. This is an aspect that has been nourished and held as sacred through all the centuries of difficulties between us,” Gray said, his hands shoved into his pockets as he leaned against the doorway behind us. The classroom they’d chosen was larger than normal, accommodating all the seventy odd students in attendance.
I swallowed when Iban took my rising fear of being unable to avoid Gray as discomfort with the feeding itself. He placed his hand on my knee, squeezing it reassuringly. “It isn’t that bad,” he whispered, giving me no choice but to smile at him. I ignored Gray’s glare when it settled on my face, pretending he didn’t exist.
That seemed to be my pattern now.
“You mean they feed on students? I assumed they fed on people in town,” one of the other witches said. I recognized her as one of the remaining eleven other new students, someone who had been pointed out to me after the burial of the witch who’d died.
“The Vessels you see at Hollow’s Grove are assigned to the school. They remain here, and as such, they feed off who they please while they’re within these walls. Only the underaged are off limits, according to the bargain,” Susannah explained.
“If a Vessel has been assigned to you for this Reaping, you will find a red mark on your bedroom door when you return from your classes tomorrow evening. If not, you will be required to remain in your quarters regardless starting at eight. If you’ve never participated in a Reaping, someone will assist you with making preparations if you’re chosen,” George continued, his voice far more sympathetic as the new students exchanged worried glances. “There’s nothing to fear. Should you wish it, the feeding can be quite quick and painless.”
I swallowed as I glanced at Iban. “When will they share the pairs with us?” I asked, watching as his lips pursed.
“What do you mean?” he asked, tipping his head to the side.
“The Vessel who has chosen us to be his feeder for the year. When do we find out who it will be?”
The shock on Iban’s face did nothing to abate my rising panic. “There hasn’t been a pair bond in decades, Willow. They stopped doing them after the massacre fifty years ago,” he whispered, leaning into my side as he spoke.
I felt Gray’s stare on my back, as if the bastard wasn’t satisfied with the knowledge that I would never be able to enjoy being with Iban. Distance would be the only way to placate him, but I’d be damned if I gave him the satisfaction.
“What are you talking about?” My mother had attended the University after the massacre. She’d never hinted that it wasn’t the way any longer, that they’d strayed from the original way to handle the Reaping. “Once a week, the Vessel who chose us comes to feed.”
“Once a week, the Vessel who is assigned to us feeds, but it’s a different one of them every time. They did it to avoid witches and Vessels forming
unnatural relationships with each other,” he explained, shrugging his shoulders.
“A different one every week?” I asked, feeling like the breath had been stolen from my lungs. It shouldn’t have mattered. If one Vessel fed from me, that was surely enough. They were all the same, all monsters hidden in human skin crafted from the earth.
Except it would make it that much more difficult for me to use Gray’s possessiveness to my advantage. It would be less time I could spend getting him addicted to me, my blood, my body. Not to mention, it meant Gray would be feeding from another witch. I growled beneath my breath, shaking my head and smiling when Iban looked at me in shock.
Fuck.
 |
The red mark on my door stole the breath from my lungs. I should have known that I would have the misfortune of being chosen in
the first week, but I’d hoped…
I didn’t know what I’d hoped.
“It’s not so bad,” Della said, letting herself into my room. She went to the bed, picking up the light gray, floor-length slip that had been left on top of the bedspread. “And it can be pleasant if you want.”
She moved the thin silk one to the side, revealing a short slip of lace. “Why are there two?” I asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.
“You wear this one,” she said, picking up the lacey one and holding it to her body as she spun. “If you’re open to feeding more carnal desires.”
“If I’m open to letting the Vessel fuck me?” I asked, huffing out a breath. I didn’t even know who it would be.
Della shrugged her shoulders, picking up the silk nightgown and handing it to me at whatever she saw on my face. “You don’t have to love someone to fuck him. You don’t even have to like him.”
“How am I supposed to make the decision of whether or not I want him? I don’t even know who will walk through that door,” I said, sighing as I stood and shoved my blazer off my shoulders. I folded it and placed it on top of my dresser, letting my fingers drop to the bow at my throat as I unknotted it.
“You won’t ever know who he was, and I think that’s some of the appeal of it. It’s a night of fun, no consequences for tomorrow because you won’t even know his name,” she said with a laugh. “Are you more attracted to women? I just assumed you were into men because of the way you flirt with Iban. If you like women too, I can tell Headmaster Thorne. There are a few female Vessels who prefer female company.”
“No, it’s not that. But witches hate the Vessels, so why would they allow Vessels to touch them?” I asked, thinking about how I’d desperately wanted to avoid the forbidden aspect. How I’d feared the judgment if I’d allowed a Vessel to touch me intimately.
It seemed more witches were willing to allow it than I’d expected, just under the cover of darkness and the secrecy of the Reaping.
“Spoken like a woman who has never had hate sex,” she laughed, standing and helping me unbutton my shirt. I didn’t protest the odd intimacy of it or the fact that it left my bra open to her view when she finished. It felt like taking care of me, like the closest thing I’d ever had to friendship when she tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.
It made me feel younger than I was, than I’d ever been allowed to be.
I thought of Gray’s hands on me, of his mouth devouring me as if he couldn’t decide if he hated me or wanted to live with his face between my legs.
I suspected this concept of hate sex had merit. “Not quite sex,” I said as the realization hit me.
Della grinned, understanding lighting her face. We both knew that someone had touched me with less than good intentions, that he’d taken more than I should have allowed.
That I’d liked it.
“No one but us has to know. I’ll help you get ready, and your secret is safe with me if you choose to put on the lace. There’s no guarantee he’ll take what you’ve offered, but either way, that secret is yours to keep,” she said, stepping away as I pulled my shirt off and tossed it to the hamper in the corner. My skirt and socks followed as I shoved them down my legs, leaving me in my bra and underwear as I reached for the silk nightgown.
As tempting as it was to give another Vessel what Gray thought was his, it would undo years of preparation. Years of my father’s insistence that keeping myself untouched would drive a Vessel to the point of obsession.
Especially if I bled the first time.
I froze, the fabric scrunching in my hand as it clenched into a fist. “Do the Vessels often reject offers?” I asked, dread rising in my throat. I tried to swallow around it, feeling like grave dirt filled my lungs suddenly.
“Not in my experience,” she said, studying my face too closely.
All Vessels fed on the Reaping. That much I knew. If there were no pair bonds—if Gray was not the one who came to me that night—would he be with another? Even just the thought of him feeding from someone else made me want to tear out his throat.
Shit.
I wasn’t supposed to care about that. He wasn’t mine, and he never would be.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I dropped the silken nightgown, my hand hovering over the lace one for a moment as I considered. The petty, vindictive part of me wanted to let whoever it was who came through my door take it all. I wanted to give what had been meant to be Gray’s away, showing him how little he mattered.
The witches may never know, but I had no doubt Gray would be able to smell me on another male. He’d know exactly what I’d done, and it would serve him fucking right.
I swallowed, shoving that part of me down, and picked up the silk gown.
“Maybe next time,” Della said, smiling kindly. “The first time is overwhelming. I think that was the right choice for tonight.”
I tugged on the fabric, pulling it overhead and letting it settle on my curves. It hugged every line and groove in my body, fitting like a second skin as if it was made for me.
“There will be plenty of time for me to partake in the other pleasures,” I said, shoving down the part of me that cared.
“Bra and underwear off,” she said, her lips twisting and nose scrunching. “Those are the rules. Regardless of which clothes…”
“That’s disgusting,” I muttered, but I reached behind my back and unhooked my bra.
My breasts dropped without the support, the fabric clinging to them and leaving nothing to the imagination in the silk that was semi-transparent. Shimmying my underwear down my legs, I tossed them to the side and moved to the center of the room when I was ready.
“You have two options. I can either secure you to the bed or the hook,” she said, pointing above my head. Sure enough, hanging from the ceiling was the tiniest of hooks I hadn’t noticed.
“Secure me?” I asked, watching as she went to the closet. She pulled a pair of padded cuffs from the top shelf, coming toward me as she took my hands in hers. Wrapping each of my wrists in one of them, she moved slowly, giving me time to adjust to the feeling of cushioned leather against my skin.
When each of my wrists was wrapped, she hooked the cuffs together with tiny latches so that they were stuck together in front of me. “This can’t be necessary,” I said, my eyes widening when she went to the closet again. She came back with a chain, feeding it through the loops in the leather until she wrapped it around my wrists.
“You can’t be allowed to see him,” she said, letting the chain drop to the floor. She held a piece of cloth in front of my face, the meaning clear as I swallowed.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I refuse to be tied up and blindfolded.”
She sighed, taking my bound hands in hers. The warmth of her skin penetrated the sudden chill that had taken me, bringing me back to the one place I didn’t want to go.
The one place I swore I would do anything to avoid.
My chest heaved, the panic coming swift and suddenly. I couldn’t breathe. Darkness closed in around the edges of my vision.
“Please. Please don’t,” I begged, shaking my head from side to side.
Della froze, her face twisting as she realized something was wrong. “Willow, I have to. If I don’t, they’ll force you. Do you understand me? This is not optional.”
I whimpered, looking between my two options as I fought for the ability to breathe. “I can’t…”
“I’ll get Headmaster Thorne,” she said suddenly, sighing as she looked at me. “Maybe he can make a special accommodation if he sees you himself.”
“No!” I screamed, making her freeze in place. “The hook. Just do it,” I said, trying to still the trembling in my fingers. My jaw ached with how harshly I gritted my teeth, with the way I clenched to try to keep the panic at bay.
The pain helped. It always brought me back to the present.
Della grabbed a control from the closet, pushing a button until the hook lowered itself in front of me. I stared at it as she twisted the red fabric, twisting it and layering it until I was certain I wouldn’t be able to see through it. Until I knew all that would remain was the darkness that never seemed to end.
“Are you sure?” she asked, reaching up with a single hand.
I hadn’t realized I was crying until her finger slid through the wetness on my cheek, brushing it away with a gentleness I didn’t deserve. I sniffed back the others, shutting out the shame.
I nodded, letting my eyes drift closed as she covered my eyes with the fabric. The moment it touched my skin, my eyes flung open. They found nothing but pitch, eternal black. Nothing but the void of all light and life.
Like being buried alive.
I whimpered, pinching my eyes closed again and trying to convince myself it was only the back of my eyelids. That I wasn’t there all over again.
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.
