Days passed where I didn’t speak to Gray. Where I didn’t see him outside of his class, and he didn’t send breakfasts to my room. I

refused to acknowledge the sting in my center that felt like disappointment, chalking it up to the fact that my duty would be far more difficult than I’d anticipated.

How was I supposed to find out where the Vessels had hidden my aunt’s bones if I couldn’t be in the room with the fucker for two seconds without wanting to tear out his throat?

It felt like a pointless waste of time, and I would have much rather been back in my home with Ash at my side, finding a way to cope with the loss of Mom. At least we would have had each other to lean on. Instead, I was trapped in a school I didn’t want to attend, contemplating all the ways I’d already failed.

I couldn’t push past my father’s teachings, his reminders that men preferred women to be seen and not heard. To seduce the headmaster, I’d need to be quiet and demure instead of brazen. I felt fairly certain I’d fucked that seven ways to Hell and there would be no backtracking now.

Besides, I’d seen the way the other witches watched him during class. My attraction to him, as much as I wanted to deny it existed, wasn’t unusual. Even those who had grown up in the Coven and learned to hate his kind still felt the pull to him.

His Vessel was unusually handsome, even in comparison to the others. The Vessels were all unnaturally beautiful, but his was just somehow… more.

That was how I’d found myself in the library after class under the guise of studying. The curved windows in front of me were covered with the fine mist of rain, making the woods outside the school appear hazy and distant. The room was too dark to be practical for reading, but I preferred the calm, muted atmosphere of this library to the fluorescent lights at the public school I’d attended as a child. The library walls were covered in wooden shelves. Books far older than I lined them and were organized in a fashion that probably only made sense to the woman in charge of the space. It had embarrassed me to need to ask her for books on what I was looking for, with no digital search function to enable me to seek out a topic.

But she’d helped, giving me a small stack of books and telling me to just leave them on the desk when I was finished.

Iban had offered to join me, to keep me company as I tried to “catch up” on material that I already knew objectively. Nothing could replace the fact that I hadn’t grown up in the culture of this place in the same way the others had, but I knew my facts.

The male witch had only sighed at me sadly, his expression holding no traces of anger I’d come to expect from the men I’d turned down. Somehow, the disappointed set to his features was worse, reminding me of the impossibility of what I had set out to do. I hadn’t felt a single twinge from the bones since arriving at Hollow’s Grove, and I wondered if they were even here.

They existed. I knew that from the magic that pulsed within me occasionally, hovering just out of reach. I couldn’t grasp it and knew I wouldn’t be able to until I fulfilled the destiny I’d been chosen for and held the bones in my hand.

I flipped through the book in front of me, determined to find any trace of answers. It should have been the location of the bones that I searched for, a registry of any type that had followed the massacre. Instead, I buried my face in the lore of the Vessels, trying to determine why Gray had so much clout within his kind.

The words on the page were an echo of what my mother had taught me, that the Vessels had adopted new names upon entering the Vessels created for them. Nobody knew their true identities, whether the demons the Hecate line had given flesh were lesser demons or even if one of the seven demon lords walked amongst us. There were rumors that the first of the Vessels

had been one of them, perhaps sent by the devil himself to supervise his new colony of worshipers on earth.

But in all the centuries since the witches and Vessels had come together to form Crystal Hollow, I could find very little record of actual worship. Whatever the purpose of the experiment with witches and Vessels, it hadn’t made itself known yet, at least not to me.

I wanted to know, but I knew it didn’t matter to me. It couldn’t, not when finding those bones had to be my priority. But Gray’s thinly veiled words rang in my head as I stared at the next page, not seeing the words written in front of me any longer. His kind knew how to be patient.

But patient for what?

“Miss Madizza,” a stern voice said.

I spun, slamming the book shut and draping my forearm over the cover so he couldn’t see the title. The last thing I needed was for the arrogant fuck to know I was spending my free time researching him.

“I’d like a word.”

I picked up the book, shoving it into the pack that hung over the back of my chair. The strap went across my chest as I hoisted it up onto my shoulder, creating that line through my cleavage that I detested more than anything.

Seat belt boobs were hardly attractive.

Gray’s eyes dropped to it for the briefest moment, his stare remaining entirely impassive before it returned to mine. There wasn’t a single flicker of even remote interest, and I squashed the irritation that made me feel. The way it made me feel less somehow, when what men thought of me rarely mattered.

I didn’t need them, not when I could achieve anything I wanted on my own. They were nothing but a distraction from my purpose, except he was that purpose. He was the only one I couldn’t allow to distance himself from me.

Fuck.

“So speak,” I said, pursing my lips as I shrugged.

I hadn’t meant for the irritation to slip through, wanting to retreat back to the more reserved version of myself I’d been taught to be. But the other witches were all cooperative. They did as they were told and paid attention in class, hanging on his every word as if it was a lifeline.

Maybe the key to standing out against that backdrop was to be the mouthy thing who pissed him off. He was standing in the library seeking me out, after all. Not them.

Even if he seemed entirely uninterested, I could work with having his attention on me for whatever reason. I couldn’t work with being ignored.

The librarian tutted from her corner, her glare settling on me as she didn’t dare to give it to the headmaster. He smiled slightly, turning and holding out an arm to gesture me forward.

“Let’s go to my office,” he said.

I rolled my eyes as I stepped around him and left the books behind me.

He was silent as we stepped into the hall and made our way up the next flight of stairs. I trailed behind him, trying not to think about the last time we’d been on the stairways together. Of the way he’d carried me when it was entirely unnecessary, when he could have just left me to Iban and allowed me to stumble into my bed.

I’d thought he wanted to fuck me, but the interest in that had seemed to wane.

He turned the knob on a door that stood alone on the landing just below the dormitories, pushing it open to reveal a massive, bright space. His office was easily the size of the entire bottom floor of the house I’d shared with my mother and Ash, with three floor-to-ceiling arched windows that came to a point at the top to fill a single one of the walls. They overlooked the cliffs, the faint, misty image of the ocean outside sparkling in the distance.

There was a seating area in front of them, a camel-colored sofa and an oversized chair framing a coffee table. Books remained stacked on the table, despite the shelves that lined the wall behind his desk, which was off to the other side. His chair was a bright red, the back arched and severe as he approached it. The door to his bedroom remained open, as if he cared very little for the fact that anyone could see into his private space.

“You live here?” I asked, following him toward his desk and prying my gaze off the dark gray paneled walls in there and the fourposter bed that was elaborately crafted from iron and entwined with gold filigree detailing.

“I have a house in the village, but I remain here when the school is in session,” he answered smoothly, leaning against his desk and gesturing to the single chair that waited in front of it.

I stood beside it, refusing to sit and feel as if I were a chastised student. Whatever had made him summon me here, I highly doubted it had anything

to do with my coursework.

“What did you need to speak to me about?” I asked, folding my hands in front of me. The bag hanging over my shoulder was weighed down with books. I wanted nothing more than to set it down.

But until I could figure out exactly what Gray’s story was, I suspected it may be better to bide my time until I had more answers about what may drive him.

“Are you really going to stand? You cannot even do what you’re told when it is as simple as sitting in a rather comfortable chair?” he asked, raising a brow at me incredulously.

I returned the look, not bothering to voice my answer. He didn’t need the words as his eyes drifted closed in frustration, his hand raising to pinch his brow as if I gave him the worst kind of migraine.

“Impossible,” he muttered.

“I take that as a compliment,” I mumbled, looking away from him and taking in the rest of his office. I ignored the luxury that seemed so unfair, focusing on the smaller items in the room and allowing that twinge of magic within me to sweep out… looking for the bones.

“You shouldn’t,” he barked, distracting me from my endeavor. “What’s your name?” I asked.

His head jerked back, eyes widening as a stunned smile curved up the edges of his lips.“Alaric Thorne. You truly do not remember my name?” he asked, scoffing as if it was totally believable I would forget such a thing. That was quite stupid of him, as I remembered everything.

“Not that one,” I said, rolling my eyes to the ceiling. “Your true name.” “That,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest as a scowl claimed his

face. “Is a very rude question.”

“It’s only a name,” I answered, lifting the bag from my shoulder and placing it on the chair he was determined for me to take.

“Names have power. Names are how demons are summoned by witches, and I have no intention of being summoned anywhere,” he said, his voice dropping low with warning.

“It would still work? Even with you in a Vessel?” I asked, considering what I knew of the creation.

The demons had been granted an immortal form that needed blood to continue functioning, but their soul had been bound to it. They couldn’t

come and go freely as they once had, inhabiting people and burning through their bodies.

These lasted, but they were a prison.

“Would it pull your soul from the Vessel?” I asked, my head tilting to the side in curiosity. The idea had merit. If Vessels could be torn from their Vessels, they could be sent back to Hell.

“No,” he said, his lips curving up into the slightest of smiles, as if he could read the path my thoughts had taken. “I would be forced to answer, but I would have to travel the long way.”

“Interesting,” I murmured, trying to quell my disappointment. The Vessels weren’t my priority, but if I happened to manage to rid the world of them in the process, I wouldn’t be mad about it.

“I brought you here to discuss a truce between us, and you stand there plotting my demise,” he muttered, but the twitch of his lips was more amused than angry.

“A truce?” I asked, watching as he stepped around his desk and took his chair.

He gestured toward the one waiting for me once he was settled, seeming to realize that if he was sitting, it would put us on even footing. I sighed, lifting my bag out of the chair and depositing it on the floor as I waved my arms dramatically.

I might do it, but I’d make it clear I thought it was stupid.

“There is no reason we need to be at odds during our time here,” he said, answering my question.

“Of course there is. You are a Vessel, and I am a witch,” I said.

Simply put, our kinds had hated one another for centuries. The Vessels had never forgiven the Covenant for what they’d done to Charlotte Hecate, and I couldn’t blame them in the end. She’d given them life, been as holy to them as the devil was.

“Are you really, though?” he asked, steepling his hands on the table in front of him. He leaned toward me; his steely gaze intense on mine as he continued with the one thing that would always remain true. “You have magic flowing through your veins. There can be no doubt about that, but you are as much a part of this Coven as I am an angel.”

“I’ve only been here a few days,” I said, sinking my teeth into my bottom lip. I’d never intended to hide my hatred for the Coven, so I didn’t

know why his words disarmed me so much. But they did, making it feel as if he’d stripped me down and revealed every last vulnerability.

I’d be alone. For the rest of my life, whether it was here or in another place after I fled, I would do so with nothing but the clothing on my back and hopefully a bag of Hecate bones.

The life of the necromancer was a lonely one. The pulse of death was far too much for most to tolerate being near.

“You have no intention of joining the Coven in truth. You use magic they’ve forbidden—magic that you and I both know needs to be restored in order for the world to come back into balance,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

The motion dragged my attention up to the portrait at his back. The morbid image of Lucifer’s fall from grace stared me in the face. Where the feathered wings of an angel had once been, there was only the open, gaping wounds where they’d been torn from his flesh.

A single tear dropped down the figure’s face, his stunningly beautiful features twisted in pain. His eyes glowed bright gold, the harsh set to his features betraying every moment of his rage.

He was like nothing I’d ever seen before, emitting such power from a painting that the breath caught in my throat. That was who I risked the wrath of if I somehow managed to undo the Coven and the Vessels. Sending Lucifer’s minions back to Hell if He didn’t desire it would bring untold danger upon myself.

“It’s there to serve as a reminder,” Gray said, his words both sympathy and accusation all at once. “That no matter how pretty the shell may be, we are all capable of great and terrible things.”

“That sounds like it came from a fortune cookie,” I said, turning my stare back to him. I shifted my face back to that emotionless blank canvas I had spent years perfecting, running my damp palm over my skirt to hide the only remaining sign of the fear that the portrait had given me.

“My point,” he said, his voice becoming far less patient as he stood from his desk, “Is that you are capable of thinking for yourself. You know as well as I do that the Coven has fallen to ways that are not natural, and that for whatever reason, the Covenant is determined to encourage that corruption. Two family lines have nearly been erased as a result of it. Perhaps you are exactly what this school needs right now, Miss Madizza.”

“How so?”

“You’re brave enough to make a deal with the devil? Take me instead,” he said, holding out his hand. He raised it to his mouth, nicking his thumb with a fang until a drop of blood welled there. “Help me bring the Coven back to the old ways and restore the balance before it’s too late.”

I paused, considering as the scent of earth and vanilla filled the air. “What’s in it for me?”

“You don’t wish to see the Coven restored to what it was meant to be?” he asked, his lips parting. The center was stained with blood, making it look poutier than normal.

The irrational urge to lean forward and lick it from his mouth rushed through me. “I care very little for what happens to the Coven.” It was true, though what happened to the earth as a result of their behavior was a different story. I couldn’t restore every plant on my own.

Even my magic was not that vast.

Gray nodded, shifting that thumb closer to me. It approached my mouth, but never touched. The deal with a demon had to be made with consent in mind, and he could do nothing until I was active in making it.

“My protection against the Covenant. I will make sure she cannot follow through on her intent to see you wed and bred as soon as possible without your explicit and voluntary agreement.”

My heart stopped beating, skipping in my chest as it squeezed. I had known my time here would be limited before they tried to do just that, but the way he made it sound…

“Have they already started discussing suitors?” I asked, turning my eyes away from him.

“I believe they started discussing them before you’d even arrived in Crystal Hollow. The moment they discovered your existence, you had one purpose to them,” he said, and even though I’d been ready for it, I couldn’t shake my disgust.

I was more than a womb.

“How will you protect me from that?” I asked. Even with the suspicion that he had more authority here than my mother had been aware, I didn’t think it extended that far.

“I have my ways. For now, all you need to do is trust that I will keep to my end of the bargain.”

“Does that protection extend to other things? Will you keep them from killing me if I piss them off too severely in the process of restoring the old

ways?” I asked, pursing my lips. I couldn’t find the bones if I was dead.

“You are of no use to me dead. I have a vested interest in seeing you survive long enough to assist me, so yes. My protection will extend to other aspects of your life if I deem them dangerous to your body or your overall wellbeing, be that emotional, mental, or physical,” he said, staring down at the welling blood.

“And who is going to protect me from you?” I asked.

A grin consumed his face. He took a step closer, moving until his thumb was only a breath away from touching my lip.

“I’ve a feeling you’ll do just fine on your own, Witchling,” he said.

I grasped his wrist, guiding his hand away from my face. Leaning forward, I gave into the desire to lick the blood from his mouth. Drawing his bottom lip into my mouth, I ran my tongue over the surface until the sweet taste of apple covered my tongue. I drew back while his eyes were still half-shut, raising his hand to my mouth and sucking his thumb as deep as I could, consuming his blood and taking it as part of me.

His eyes opened as I drew back on his thumb slowly, releasing it finally as he leaned forward. The standard custom was for him to pierce my thumb the same way he had, but he mimicked my actions. His eyes held mine as his mouth lingered just a breath from mine, his teeth pinching my bottom lip pointedly until it bled. He groaned as he covered the wound with his mouth, sucking on the flesh and taking the blood he needed for the deal.

I was breathless by the time he pulled back, my eyes closed. I opened them to find his arrogant, steel eyes burning with desire, threads of magic laced through his irises like stars in the sky.

“I still don’t like you,” I muttered, stepping back as I tried to compose myself. I braced myself, keeping a damper on my emotions. With his blood fresh in me, he’d have greater access.

But not if I didn’t feel.

He grinned, a soft chuckle leaving him as he stepped around his desk. “And I still intend to fuck you, Witchling.”

“Then I guess we remain at odds in some ways,” I said, lifting my bag from the floor and placing it on my shoulder.

“But these odds are so much more fun,” he said.

I couldn’t help the hint of a smile that took me as I shook my head at him. Turning on my heel, I fled the office and the odd warm feeling climbing up my throat.

Just the blood, I reminded myself.