Gray laid me on the bed, his clothes dripping all over the floor as he tended to me first. Helping me shift beneath the blankets, he didn’t
seem bothered by the fact that I was naked in his sheets as he turned away and strode into the bathroom.
I stared at the ceiling as my fingers clutched the blanket to my chest, feeling more laid bare than I’d allowed in… longer than I could remember. I’d had Ash before, had the innocent love of my little brother to keep me motivated.
I still did, in a way. Still had the knowledge that what I did would give him a better life in the end to push me forward. But I couldn’t shake the sinking feeling in my gut. The one that questioned if I was really better than any of the people of the Coven whom I’d claimed to hate.
Gray was an asshole. He was infuriating and brought out the absolute worst in me.
But he was also the first person I’d turned to when I was hurt, and even I couldn’t convince myself it had been because of the bargain between us.
My hair was damp against the pillow, the sheets soft against my skin. I lay in the bed of the man who was meant to be my enemy, who, according to the plan my father had decided for me before I’d been born, I would send back to Hell and never see again once I found the bones.
My nostrils flared as I threw back the blankets, swinging my legs over the edge. I hurried to his dresser, grabbing one of his shirts and pulling it over my head in a hurry. It hung around my hips, drowning me in a way that I didn’t let myself stop to appreciate.
I grasped the handle of the door to his bedroom, turning the knob and hauling it open in my haste to get away. I couldn’t breathe, the sudden suffocation of all my conflicting feelings hitting me straight in the chest.
My heart twisted, my breathing stalling. The door pulled out of my hand, slamming shut as I whirled to face the man who’d stepped out of the bathroom to find me attempting to flee. He’d stripped off his clothes, the lines of corded, well-trained muscle tensing and relaxing as he dropped the towel he’d used to dry his hair to the floor. Another towel was tied around his waist, and I swallowed as I pressed my back into the door behind me.
“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.”
