GRAY

I faltered in my steps as I walked around my desk, glancing over at the window to stare at the courtyard beyond. Willow was nowhere

to be seen within them, but I knew she’d found a place to call upon her magic and ground herself once again.

My witchling would be shaken; she could bend, but she never broke.

I smiled, a chuckle of laughter slipping free. Leviathan stepped toward me as my students began to file into the room. “Crafty little fucking witch,” I said, shaking my head as I turned to face him.

“What’s your wife done now?” Leviathan asked, his own amusement matching mine.

“She touched the Source,” I said, feeling the magic on my own skin in response to hers. In the past, Willow had used the magic in her veins to call the Source to her. This time?

This time, she’d shoved her hands wrist-deep into it, taking it for herself and letting it slither inside of her.

“Is that even possible?” Leviathan asked, spinning to look out the window. He also searched for Willow, knowing she would either be in the courtyard or the gardens if she was touching magic so thoroughly. Those were the places where she’d have felt the most comfortable delving into the unknown.

I smiled, shaking my head fondly. “It would appear even the Source cannot say no to my wife,” I said, facing the students who had gathered. There were less than I expected on any given day, some members of the

Coven deciding that they no longer wanted their children to attend a class with the devil.

That was their prerogative, even though the students would not be full members of the Coven until they graduated from Hollow’s Grove. I realized the irony and hypocrisy in that statement, considering they were led by a witch who hadn’t completed a single year.

Part of me wished there was someone who could have sat on that throne until Willow graduated, giving her the opportunity to attend school like any other. I told myself that we would have a conversation later, to let her know we would find a way for her to continue with her education if she so desired.

The other part of me wanted nothing more than to kneel before her and encourage her reign of terror.

“She is a menace,” Leviathan said. However, it was a quiet reprimand that sounded more like an affectionate older brother. There was no threat to me in the way he looked at Willow, only admiration for the woman who had made his presence here possible.

If only Beelzebub was as amicable toward her. The demon who had killed her was still frustrated with her very existence, even if the witch he wanted to court was friends with my wife.

Poor Margot.

The witch didn’t stand a chance.

“Should you stop her?” Leviathan asked, raising a brow. Toying with the Source came with risks, though that was normally when someone tried to force their way in. The magic that coated my skin as an extension of Willow wasn’t malicious, it was the welcoming warmth of a familiar embrace.

It recognized her and invited her to join it.

“No,” I said, shaking my head as I picked up a piece of chalk and began scrawling notes on the chalkboard. “Let her play. The Source will tell her when she’s wandered too far.”