Page 33 of Wicked Bonds
“Yes,” I agree simply. “It is.”
“Can it be broken? The contract?” Her voice is quiet now, careful, as if she’s afraid to hope.
I hold her gaze steadily. “Every contract has loopholes. But the Coven has had centuries to close them. People have tried before, Rose. It rarely ends well for them.”
“Does that mean that everyone who has had the mark, everyone who has been bound to the Coven like this, is from my bloodline.”
I wonder who she’s thinking of. But I don’t ask. “No. The Coven covets your bloodline, but it has made the same deal with other families, other souls in need of protection, over the generations.” There is a very good reason the Crescent Moon Coven is the most powerful of all the witches, of all the supernaturals, they’re the most ruthless.
The compulsion has worn off, but she doesn’t move to leave. Instead, she sits very still, processing everything I’ve told her.
“Is that what happened to you?”
“My family has served the Coven for nearly as long as yours,” I say, my voice quieter than I intended. I rarely speak of this, even to those who already know the history. It feels too personal, too close to the bone. But Rose is watching me, and I find myself wanting to give her this truth.
“What, vampires need protection too?” She leans back in her chair, studying me with newfound interest.
“We weren’t always vampires.” I trace a pattern on the wooden table, following the grain with my fingertip. “My family was nobility once. Human nobility. During the Black Death, when half of Europe was dying, we were desperate for any salvation. The Coven offered it… for a price.”
Rose’s expression shifts, skepticism softening into something closer to curiosity. “They turned you?”
“Not immediately. First, they protected our lands, our people, using magic to keep the plague at bay while neighboring estates were decimated. We survived, thrived even, while others perished. But protection came with conditions. Service. Loyalty. Eventually, immortality, bestowed by a vampire. Not as a gift, but as a means to ensure our family would be useful to them indefinitely.”
“So you’re trapped too,” she says, more statement than question.
I offer a thin smile. “We all serve something, Rose.”
“Don’t get it twisted, Lucien. I don’tserveanyone.”
“Are you sure about that, Rose Smith?” A bitter laugh escapes me. “We aren’t so different, you and I. Both bound by contracts we didn’t sign, serving masters we didn’t choose.”
“You’ve surrendered.”
The accusation stings precisely because it holds truth. “Have I? Or have I simply learned to pick my battles?” I lean closer, dropping my voice. “The Coven isn’t monolithic, Rose. There are factions, rivalries, weaknesses. Knowing when to comply and when to resist, that’s the game that’s kept me alive.”
“Sounds like a shitty game.”
“Most games are, when you’re playing with power-hungry supernaturals.”
She studies me, head tilted. “Is that why you’re telling me all this? So I’ll learn to play their game too?”
“I’m telling you because most who come here either embrace the system eagerly or break under it. You do neither. Foolish, perhaps, but admirable.”
Her lip twitches in what might almost be a smile. “High praise from the Coven’s lapdog.”
Her refusal to be cowed, even by me—especially by me—is both frustrating and fascinating. Most students tremble in my presence, aware of what I am, what I could do. Rose looks at me as if I’m just another obstacle to overcome.
Without realizing it, we’ve both leaned farther across the table, drawn together by the conspiratorial nature of our conversation. I notice small details I hadn’t before, the faint freckles across the bridge of her nose, the tiny scar at the corner of her mouth,the way her pupils are dilated slightly. She smells of coffee, cinnamon, and life and death. Her heartbeat is fast but steady.
It’s… distracting.
“So what happens now?” she asks. “What am I supposed to do with this information? And why do I get the feeling you’re not telling me the whole story?”
Because you’re perceptive.
But I can’t tell her the truth yet. Can’t tell her that the Coven wants her for more than just her bloodline’s magic. No, the Coven wants far more than that. And if Rose knew, there’s no telling what she’d do. That’s a risk I cannot take.
Not yet.
