WILLOW
That mark on his chest held me captive, a swallow throbbing the entire way down my throat as I tried to come to terms with what
I’d done. I hadn’t meant to or even wanted to claim him in any way, but the magic pulsing through my veins now felt wild—uncontrollable.
“What have you done to me?” I asked him, refusing to allow him to see the emotion that clogged my throat. My connection to the earth had always been strong, our relationship intense, since I loved it more than any of the other parts of me.
But now…
Now, it felt like the magic itself was alive within me, almost like it writhed and curled beneath my skin. There was a darker tint to it, as if shadows were following the light. A light that I could only assume was what I’d inherited from Charlotte and the bones hanging around my neck. The part that scared me the most was the pulsing threat that craved death and decay, the cycle of life that demanded payment.
I couldn’t be the one to deliver it. I couldn’t be the one to make choices between life and death.
“I know you were a virgin before, but we’ve done that enough times now that I know you’re aware of what an orgasm is, my love,” Gray responded, quirking an eyebrow at me as that infuriating smirk tried to make light of the situation. As if he hadn’t turned my entire world upside down.
“What am I? I shouldn’t have been able to burn your skin. I’m not a fire witch–”
“You’re still my witchling,” he said, his face softening and the traces of his arrogant amusement waning. He watched me like I was two words away from a breakdown, and maybe I was.
Breakdowns usually meant I cried in the shower where no one could see me. Except out here, surrounded by nature and the natural course of life…
I didn’t know what would happen. Not straightaway.
“You’re my wife,” he added, touching a single finger to the underside of my chin.
“Am I even still human? Am I still a witch?” I asked, glancing at the forest around me. I still felt the hum of the trees in my blood, louder than ever, so I didn’t think my connection to that part of me had been affected.
But something was distinctly different.
“You were never human,” Gray answered, stating a fact I’d never reconciled. I might have had magic in my veins, but I bled all the same as a human. I hurt and hungered, and all the parts of me that mattered felt human.
The little brother I loved felt human, as he remained powerless until his sixteenth birthday. It was through his eyes that I saw the world, through the life I knew he would live without me, that I saw what I wished I could have.
However, I wasn’t strong enough to be alone in my body without my magic to get there. I wasn’t strong enough to face the empty void my life had created, the hollows where love should have resided and there was only hurt, pain, and anger.
“Am I a witch?” I asked, watching as he reached out toward one of the trees nearest us. It responded to his call, swaying a single branch toward him so that he could take a leaf between his fingers. He stared at it as if it was a curiosity. It was as if he couldn’t understand why I cared so much for something so… ordinary.
“That’s complicated,” he said, his golden stare meeting mine finally. I swallowed, trying to fight back the tremble to my lower lip. I couldn’t stand the thought of losing everything I knew.
“How?” I whispered, a tenseness to my voice that hinted at my dwindling patience. He’d brought me back to life when I hadn’t asked for it; the least he could do was explain what he’d done to me.
“In order to bring you back, I had to give you a lot of my blood. More than I would now that you have accepted the marital bond. I’ve only given
one person that much of my blood in the past, and it was for a very different purpose, but some of the consequences appear to be similar.”
“Charlotte?” I asked, scoffing. Of course, my ancestor would be the only other person. I seemed to be doomed to repeat her life story. “Were you two…”
“No. Charlotte and I had a relationship of mutual respect, but there was never anything beyond tentative friendship. She didn’t trust me, and I didn’t trust her, but I respected her tenacity,” Gray answered, pausing to glance toward the woods as his body tensed. “She is also not the one I gave my blood to, though it was at her request.”
“Who?” I asked, my brow furrowing as the realization of the only other possibility struck me. “The Covenant?” I asked, the words feeling torn from my throat.
“Yes, my love. The gift of my blood was what resurrected Susannah and George from their graves. Even Charlotte’s magic could not animate a person beyond the moment she commanded them. Once she released her magic, they returned to their natural state,” he said, making my blood run cold. I glanced toward the woods at the sound of crunching leaves, trying to quell my rising panic.
“Does that mean…”
“That means you are what you were always meant to be. Our people have the opportunity to live in true harmony with you to lead the witches back to the old ways, and with me to guide the archdemons and Vessels to a new way of life,” he said, and something hopeful brightened his golden eyes. “We can build a home here.”
I wondered, even if for just a second, if Hell had ever felt like home. Or if it had been a reminder of his punishment, a place he couldn’t escape any more than the souls trapped there. I shoved back that pity, determined not to allow myself to feel anything for the man who had used me and broken my heart without remorse.
“You killed twelve witches to bring me back. The Coven isn’t going to forgive that,” I snapped, shaking my head at his stupidity.
“I killed twelve witches from outside families,” Gray said with a devious grin. “They had no ties here—no family, no connections. People will be furious for a while, but humans are so fleeting. Even if their anger lingers, they’ll be gone soon enough. The future is ours to shape.” He gave me one last smile before he spun sharply.
In a flash, one of the Cursed lunged from the trees, aiming his full weight at Gray. Gray’s hand shot out, gripping the creature’s throat and holding it aloft with unyielding strength. I felt the bones in my neck twinge, straining toward the creature, my magic stirring in response—a familiar call, yet with a dark edge that was unsettling. While the pulse of earth in my blood was comforting warmth, this felt like plunging into icy waters.
A strange tingling spread through my fingers, painful at the tips as I fought to keep my hand at my side. This magic—Black Magic—was never something I wanted. The only time I’d considered it was to destroy the Vessels, to seek revenge.
I’d never intended to wield it for anything else.
Gray’s eyes met mine, sensing my inner struggle. “Always follow the magic, Witchling,” he murmured, twisting the creature in his grasp. His hand clamped over the creature’s throat, holding it with a grip that seemed limitless. The creature—a wolfman—thrashed, his clawed hands swiping wildly, his arms covered in fur, claws extending longer than any natural wolf’s. “If it craves his life, feed that hunger. A necromancer must satisfy the balance, just as you feed the earth.”
But it wasn’t death my magic demanded; it was the sacrifice of blood, flesh, and bone. I stepped closer to the Cursed, swallowing hard as he snapped his jaws at me, his claws slashing in desperate attempts to reach me. I met his wild eyes, pinning him with my gaze.
A wave of my hand called to the earth beneath its feet, roots extending from the forest floor to wrap around his hind canine legs that supported his weight. They wound around him, encircling his torso and catching his hands to pin at his side. Gray released him gradually, stepping away when he was certain that I held him firm.
He shifted behind me, wrapping an arm around my waist and molding himself to my spine. I shouldn’t have relished the support or the way he made me feel grounded, giving my body an anchor as the magic threatened to consume me. “Give it what it wants,” he murmured, nuzzling the side of my neck with his nose in something that brought me as much shame as it did comfort.
“It’s too much,” I said, shaking my head. My hand trembled at my side, the pull of the magic too much to ignore. I didn’t want anything that could force me, that could strip me of my will with the magic taking control.
“Let it go. You’ll drain yourself fighting this. The Madizza line is only one line of Green witches. There are two, which means the Madizzas only control half of the earth magic I gave. The Hecate line is the only necromancer line. All of it exists within you. You’ll need time to adjust to the strength of that power,” he said, wrapping his hand around my forearm. He raised it in front of me, pausing only a breath from the chest of the Cursed and leaving me to cross the final distance.
I felt the beating of his heart without touching him, felt the throbbing of it in pulse with the flow of his blood. His life hovered just out of reach, but it didn’t call to me.
Because necromancy wasn’t about death, but about giving life to those who had already lost it.
I touched my palm to his chest decisively, as a rush of black tendrils swarmed to absorb my hand. They surrounded me, pulsating from my flesh to wrap around his neck.
His eyes held my stare, something human lurking in that gaze as he yelped. That yelp, a plea, escalated into a howl, the sound echoing through the trees as he tossed his head back.
Fur fell to the forest floor, draping off his head and fluttering in the wind until it touched the leaves below. They enveloped it, taking his fur as an offering.
Watching in horror, I couldn’t wrench my hand away as his skin followed, melting away as if it had been dipped in acid. His snout faded into shadow, blood dripping from his face as it shifted into that of a man. His form shrunk, his legs and arms twisting and the bones cracking. Nails retreated into his fingers as a human head of hair grew to replace his fur.
The tree roots retreated into the earth, returning to the place they belonged and leaving the man who had taken the place of the Cursed to sway on his feet. His arms raised, gripping my wrist gently as he dropped to his knees in front of me.
He was entirely nude, and a pulse of disapproval came in the form of Gray’s warning growl.
The Cursed turned his stare up to my face, shocking violet eyes meeting mine from a handsome, human man.
“Consort,” he said, his voice full of awe as he leaned forward and nuzzled his face against the hand he held. “I am yours.”
