Page 72 of Hexmate

Through our bond, I could feel Atlas circling closer, his rage building with every drop of my blood that fell to the snow. Not yet, I sent to him. Just a little longer.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” I said, my voice growing stronger as I felt the forest’s energy coursing through me. The drops of my blood on the snow began to glow faintly, unnoticed by Rowan in his fanatical state.

“You think you’re special now because you’ve got a wolf’s dick in you?” Rowan spat, his breath hot against my face. “Damien says that’s just a phase. Once we cleanse you, you’ll understand your true purpose.”

I almost laughed. “Cleanse me? Is that what my father told you?”

“Your blood will purge this campus,” Rowan continued, pressing the knife harder against my throat. “Then we’ll cleanseyou of that animal’s influence. The ritual requires a full moon and a witch of pure bloodline. Tonight is perfect.”

As he spoke, I felt something shift in the energy around us. Tiny tendrils of green were emerging from where my blood had touched the snow, invisible to normal sight but glowing like emerald fire to my enhanced senses. The forest was responding to me, to my blood, to my power.

I felt a surge of confidence as the forest responded to my call. The energy coursing through me was different now—stronger, more primal. Since bonding with Atlas, my connection to nature had deepened in ways I was only beginning to understand.

“You know what’s funny, Rowan?” I said, my voice steady despite the knife at my throat. “You talk about pure bloodlines and all the power they contain, but you have no idea what real power even smells like.”

His scarred face twisted with rage. “Shut up! You’re a powerless witch! Everyone knows that! And I’m the one with the knife!”

“And I’m the one with the forest.”

I released the power I’d been gathering, directing it through the blood I’d spilled onto the snow. The tiny green tendrils erupted upward, wrapping around Rowan’s ankles like vines. He yelped in surprise, the knife faltering against my skin.

“What the?—”

I took advantage of his momentary distraction, grabbing his wrist and twisting. The knife clattered to the snow as the vines surged higher, wrapping around his legs. Panic flashed in his eyes, the milky one rolling wildly as he struggled against his living restraints.

“You think I’m powerless?” I said, stepping back as the vines tightened around him. “You think I’m weak because I love Atlas?”

Rowan’s face contorted in fear and rage as he struggled against the plants that now snaked up to his waist. “This isn’t possible! You’re a nature witch—minor talents at best!”

“I was,” I agreed, feeling the forest’s energy humming through my body. “But things change.”

The vines continued their relentless climb, wrapping around his torso now. I felt Atlas approaching from behind, his presence a comforting warmth at my back.

“You’re too late,” Rowan spat, panic edging into his voice as he thrashed against his restraints. “The curse has already begun. Your friends will die, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”

I moved closer, my confidence growing with each step. “Tell me how to break the curse on Wild and Karrick.”

Rowan’s laugh was high and strained. “You can’t. Only the caster can lift it, and I never will.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” I asked quietly. “If the caster dies… the curse ends.”

“You… You wouldn’t,” Rowan stammered. “You’d be hunted down by the Elder Council and executed for killing another witch! Both you and your stray!”

I just smiled at that, my blood turning icy as I lifted my hands, the vines thickening and growing tighter around Rowan. He cried out in pain, his joints starting to dislodge as the vines constricted, pulling his limbs outward. “Not if they don’t find your body,” I growled.

Atlas stepped up beside me, tossing a palm sized crystal ball in his hand nonchalantly. “I got it all recorded,” he said, tucking the crystal in his pocket. “Just leave him here and we’ll send security out to get him.”

But I didn’t move, the vines still tightening around Rowan. Atlas looked over at me, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Caden,” he said softly, his voice full of concern. “Let him go.”

“No,” another replied.

Both Atlas and I looked up as a dark figure stepped into the small clearing. A long black robe brushed the snow as he stepped into the light, his cold blue eyes glimmering in the moonlight.

“Kill him,” my father said, a cruel grin on his face. “Kill him and become the Cromwell witch you were meant to be.”

Chapter 29

Caden

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