Page 19 of Her Blood Revenge

Pixie steps closer to the soil, thinking she’s being clever and sneaky. If her fingertips touch the earth, our asses will get kicked.

But so will hers.

Well… smacked. A lot. And she would love it.

I clear my throat, reminding her that I’m watching, and she lifts her gaze to meet mine. That flash of vindictiveness grips my heart. That threat she delivers with nothing but a look is chilling.

Neve. That’s where Pixie got that look from. A couple of times since we caught our girl, I’ve captured a glimpse of the blood queen stirring inside. Every time I see that disgusting resemblance between the girl who stands before me and the twisted witch who destroyed me a million times over, I have to fight the urge to make Pixie pay for what her mother did to me.

To the three of us.

It’s instinctual to tear apart the enemy. But since I heard the snap of her neck and saw her lifeless eyes, I no longer see Neve. Just Pixie. So stubborn and angry. Frightened and powerful.

But weak and lost. Unsure of her place, her power and her purpose.

She’s never been able to trust a single soul. Everyone in her short and brutal life has betrayed, abused and fucked her over. Us included.

I’m determined to make that change.

We’ll give her what she needs.

We’ll make her strong. Make sure she knows that her place and purpose is at our side. And show her that her power makes her a fearsome creature.

Because the alternative means she is just another blood witch. And that ending is not an option.

‘Talk then,’ she demands, her back straightening a little.

This little witch, her head barely reaching our chins, commanding us.

I love it. Love how she stands tall. Speaks firmly.

So unlike any female earth witch I’ve ever seen. Sure, she’s a blood witch. But she was raised in an earth coven. Force fed their keep sweet and be obedient bullshit. And yet she goes against every grain her father tried to force on her.

I have never understood why a man would want some meek and obedient little thing, afraid of their own shadow and desperate to avoid any upset.

Passion comes from all those emotions that boil over. That can’t be tamed. And Pixie is always ready to explode. Has been since she stole Dorian’s knife and killed the pixie I had strapped down on that table.

It was unfortunate that our first meeting had to be when we were tearing apart a living thing. But that little pixie fuck had been spying on me for days. The Unseelie may have been in the shadows all these years, but I know they’ve been watching me. That they’ve been continuing to spy on us since we executed their blood queen and her sisters and reporting back to whatever creatures have been ruling the unseelie in Neve’s absence.

Turns out I should have tied down the fucking banshee all along.

Neve’s spies are everywhere.

Pixie fiddles with her bracelet. I hate that thing and how she refuses to take it off. It’s a glamour given to her by hermother to hide the blood witch kindred marks Pixie has etched onto her skin. The dead giveaway as to what she truly is.

But it also hides her scars. The ones given to her by a life of abuse and neglect.

I hate that she feels the need to hide from us. She’s beautiful. But I pick my fights. And that is not the hill I’m willing to die on today.

‘I said talk, Dream Walker,’ she repeats.

‘Are you seeing spirits?’ I ask.

Her hand rests over the many, many charms Dorian made for her.

The last thing we want is for her to be seeing the dead. Considering we killed her prick of a father and two insane aunts, that’s certainly not something we would want. All mirrors have also been removed from the castle. Their glass shattered and frames burned to ensure she never accidentally sees a spirit from the beyond.

‘I’m sorry. But if you want to ask me questions, you must earn them first.’ She smiles cruelly. ‘You can talk, and I can listen. That’s what I agreed to and what you offered. So talk.’

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