Page 42 of Wicked Bonds
“I know she’s finally seeing what you really are.” His black eyes are filled with malice. “Not the controlled, dignified vampire lord. Just another monster who wants to consume her.”
The accusation hits too close to truth. Because isn’t that what I did? Lost control, pressed her against that desk, tasted her skin like I had any right to it?
“At least I don’t crawl into her dreams uninvited,” I say, letting ice seep into my voice. “Feeding on her while she sleeps. Tell me, Soren, how does it feel to be so desperate for scraps that you’ll violate an unconscious girl?”
His expression darkens, the playful mockery sliding away to reveal something uglier underneath. “Careful, vampire. You might not like what happens when you provoke me. I feed on emotion, remember? All that repression you’re so proud of? I could crack it open like an egg.”
“Try it.”
For a moment, we stand there in anticipation of violence. Students hurry past, sensing the danger without understanding it, giving us a wide berth.
Then Soren’s mouth curves back into that stupid smile he wears constantly “You think you’re protecting her by warning me off? You’re the danger here, Lucien. Not me.”
“I would never hurt her.”
“Wouldn’t you?” He cocks his head, studying me with those unearthly eyes. “You’re the one reporting her every move to Wickersly. You’re the one keeping her ignorant of what the Accord really means. You’re the one serving the very people who plan to drain her dry.”
Each word lands like a punch to the ribs. Because he’s right. God help me, the demon is right.
“At least I’m honest about what I am,” Soren continues. “I take what I need, but I don’t pretend it’s for her own good. You? You wrap your chains in pretty words about protection and duty, but you’re still putting them on her.”
“The Coven?—”
“The Coven owns you. And as long as they do, you’re more dangerous to Rose than I could ever be. Because she might actually trust you. She might actually believe you want to help her.”
The worst part is, I do want to help her. But wanting and being able to are vastly different things when you’re bound by centuries of obligation and blood contracts of your own.
“Stay away from her,” I repeat, but the warning sounds hollow now, even to me.
Soren adjusts his shirt collar, smoothing invisible wrinkles. “I’d love to continue this delightful conversation, but I have a class to teach.” His grin turns sharp as a knife. “Shielding, actually. Your little witch needs all the help she can get, doesn’t she? Especially now that she knows what’s really waiting for her.”
The implication freezes me in place. Rose is in his class. Of course she is. The schedule I memorized for my reports, how could I forget? She’ll walk into his classroom, still furious from our encounter, still burning with the truth of what the Accord means, and Soren will be there. Waiting. Ready to offer comfort, understanding, everything I can’t give her.
“Don’t,” I start, but he’s already walking away, whistling something that sounds obscenely cheerful.
“See you around, Lucien,” he calls over his shoulder. “Do try not to assault any more students.”
I stand there for a moment. Then I turn on my heel, not toward Wickersly’s office but toward the classroom wing. I know exactly where Soren teaches.
I find a shadow to lurk in, positioning myself where I can see the door without being obvious. Students file in, chattering, oblivious. Then she appears, and my chest tightens despite myself.
Rose looks calmer, but I can see the tension in her shoulders, the way her hand keeps moving to her arm where the bloodmark burns. Dressed in all black like usual, like it’s her armor against the world.
She pauses at the classroom door, and for one moment, I think she senses me. Her head turns slightly, eyes scanning the hallway. But then someone bumps into her from behind, and she disappears inside.
I wait. Fifty minutes of standing in this hallway, listening. When the door finally opens and students stream out, I follow at a distance.
Rose heads for the courtyard, and I trail her, keeping to the edges of buildings, using every vampire skill I have to remain unnoticed. She finds a bench near the old oak, the one the witches decorate for their Litha and Yule festivals, and sits with her back to me.
She pulls out a book but doesn’t open it. Just sits there, staring at nothing, and I watch her like the pathetic creature I’ve become. Wanting what I can’t have. Protecting someone who doesn’t want my protection. Serving masters who will destroy the one thing that’s made me feel alive in centuries.
Soren was right. I am the danger here.
But knowing that doesn’t stop me from memorizing the way the afternoon light catches in her hair, the way she holds herself like she’s ready to fight the whole world.
It doesn’t stop me from wanting her.
And that terrifies me more than any threat the Coven could make.
