WILLOW
Della and Nova left the library first, leaving Iban to put the books back in their places. The knife rested in an exterior pocket of my
messenger bag, carefully angled to avoid Jonathan as I hefted it onto my shoulder. He curled up on the total opposite side of the bag, growling at it as I shifted it.
I didn’t bother to say goodbye to Iban as I made my way out the tiny crack between the shelf and the wall where Nova had pushed it open, needing time to process all that had happened.
And what I’d agreed to do but couldn’t.
Even knowing it was the right thing to do, I didn’t think I’d be able to follow through with killing Gray myself. I shook my head as I walked down the hall toward the stairwell, frantically racking my brain for an alternative. There had to be someone else.
Anyone else.
“Willow, wait!” Iban called, hurrying out of the library behind me. I paused even though I wanted nothing more than to get to the gardens below, to bury my hands in the dirt and feel the earth. I needed the reminder that there was something more to me. That I was allowed to have feelings and thoughts of my own in spite of what the world seemed to think.
“What do you want?” I asked, spinning to pin him with a look that conveyed all the desperation I felt.
He adjusted his own bag on his shoulder, smiling sadly at whatever he saw on my face. He didn’t stop pushing as he continued to invade my space and move another step closer. In any other situation, the proximity might
have been a comfort, instead it just felt suffocating. “You’re doing the right thing,” he said, his voice quiet. I felt it like a snapping twig between us, the crack in my heart echoing through the space until I couldn’t hold back my indignant huff.
“Am I, though?” I asked, watching as horror made that gentle smile fall from his face in confusion. A few students passed us by, making their way into the library with downturned eyes while pointedly avoiding looking in my direction. I’d gone from the outcast to being in charge, yet nothing would change the judgment and fear that came from the witches due to my connection to Gray.
“What are you talking about?” Iban asked, shifting closer. I backed away, shaking my head and raising a hand to show him that I needed him to maintain distance.
“What exactly am I fighting to protect here? People who will never accept me?” I asked, waving my hand out as the library door slammed behind the witches. Iban and I were alone again, the silence of the stone walls pressing down on me and my feet far too distant from the earth below.
It felt like a storm raging in my blood, like I was two minutes away from a catastrophe that would swallow Hollow’s Grove in my rage.
“Just give them time. If you do this, they’ll worship you,” Iban said with a chuckle. He thought it was humorous, but we both knew it was true. An act of service to earn the affection of people who might have been my family in another life.
Another test to prove my worthiness to people who were meant to love
me.
My lips pressed together firmly, the grinding of my teeth together
making my head pound. “Willow…” Iban said, seeming to realize that he’d said something wrong.
“Did it ever fucking occur to you, that maybe, just maybe, I deserve to be accepted for who I am and not what I have to offer?” I asked, taking another step back from him. At least Gray didn’t pretend to be innocent and owned his actions. I needed the distance so I didn’t do something I regretted, like lash out with the magic that coated my skin in anger. Even Jonathan yowled, poking his head out of my bag to look up at me in warning. “For once, I would like to be allowed to do something for myself, and not because the fucking Coven depends on me to fix it’s shit.”
“I know you. You don’t want him. You’re confused, and I understand that. He’s a master manipulator, sweetheart. He knows exactly what to say to get you to turn your back on everything that matters to you. That’s all the more reason that you have to fight, to free yourself from him. Especially since we both know he will never let you go so long as he’s here,” Iban said, leaning his shoulder against the stone wall.
I glanced at the tiny window at the top of the stairs, looking out at the woods with the reminder of the bargain we’d struck. As long as he remained, I would never be free of this place.
“You don’t know that,” I said instead, shrugging my shoulders. “He could get bored.”
“He won’t,” Iban said as my shoulders dropped into place. Dejection replaced the rage, knowing that no matter what I did, I would have to choose between the Coven and Gray. I couldn’t have both, not if I wanted the Coven to value me the way it did its own.
Perhaps Gray and I weren’t all that different in the end, for the sorrow that clung to my chest wasn’t because I couldn’t ever leave Crystal Hollow.
It was because I just wanted a place to call home—a place to belong.
Iban stepped closer, tucking a stray hair behind my ear. His fingers brushed against my skin, the warmth of them making me far too aware of the chill that had taken over me. “I wouldn’t,” he said, his voice sad.
I swatted his touch away, glowering up at him in warning. His words were a quiet manipulation, toying with me when he knew I was vulnerable. My opinion of him sank even lower, and I swallowed as I focused not to think about that loss on top of the potential grief already staring me in the face if I murdered my husband in cold blood.
“It’s not fair,” I admitted, shaking my head and crossing my arms over my chest. “Why does it have to be me? Why is it always me?”
“I know it’s not fair. I’d take it from you if I could, but…” he trailed off. “I know,” I said, pursing my lips.
I had no doubt that Iban would be more than willing to be the one to drive the blade into Gray’s heart, ending his life and freeing me. I may not have been acutely familiar with the thoughts of men, although it didn’t take a genius to assume he saw the benefit in ridding the world of Gray for more than one reason.
One was selfish. The other was not.
“I think I should take the blade for now,” Iban said, reaching into the messenger bag at my side. I placed my hand over his, my natural instinct telling me to keep the powerful object within my grasp. “It wouldn’t end well if Gray were to discover it before we’ve had a chance to spell it against him.” Even if his words made sense, I couldn’t take my grip off the bag from where he’d slid his hand. “It’s useless without you, Willow. We need you to spell it with your magic in order for it to work,” Iban said, his words reassuring and shoving away the guilt that was nagging at me.
I shook off the sinking suspicions, realizing the truth to that statement and releasing a sigh. Nodding, I pulled my hand back and allowed him to slip the blade into his own bag discreetly. The exchange put us too close, his face tilted over mine as he leaned into the wall.
The breath hitched in my lungs as he lowered his head slowly, his eyes darkening as I merely stared up at him. He moved at a leisurely pace, his eyes full of questions and waiting for the rejection that I couldn’t bring myself to give.
I needed to know if Gray’s compulsion still held me captive, if it was any part of why I reacted to him the way I did. If I felt something with Iban, I’d know it was genuine attraction.
His mouth touched mine gently, the softest brush of skin and barely a whisper of a kiss. I held perfectly still, not daring to move for fear of what my instinct told me.
I needed to know.
The tip of his nose rubbed against mine as he angled himself; an affectionate caress that felt wrong. He pressed his lips to mine more firmly, his hand sliding beneath the curtain of my dark hair to cup my jaw and hold me still. I let my eyes drift closed, shutting out the vision of the face of the man the world would have me choose. I couldn’t bear to look at him, squeezing out the truth staring me in the face.
Only when I closed my eyes, all I saw was the image of Gray’s arrogant smirk looking down at me. All I felt was the smooth caress of his mouth on mine, the way he’d pry me open and force me to give everything.
Iban’s mouth was too gentle, too coaxing, as he tried to draw me to the surface. There was no battle or war in his touch, only sweetness where I wanted passion.
I drew back, cracking my head against the wall behind me as I tore my mouth from his. I covered my mouth with my hand, flinging my eyes open
to watch Iban’s open far more slowly. “Willow,” he said, his voice low and husky. He seemed wholly unaware of my disinterest, as if he’d experienced a different kiss entirely.
“This was a mistake,” I said, swiftly shaking off my stress as I frantically wiped my lips on the back of my hand. Sliding out from between Iban and the wall, I hurried toward the stairs and my escape to the gardens.
“He doesn’t deserve your loyalty!” Iban called, but there was no ire in the words. Only the dejected sting of rejection.
Still, my hackles rose at the judgment of the statement alone. “You’re right. However, if we’re being completely honest?” I asked, nodding in agreement. “Neither do you.”
