Page 9 of Wicked Bonds
The book lifts off the desk without me touching it, hovering three feet in the air like it’s possessed. I stare at it, frozen, while it slowly rotates like a lazy ceiling fan.
What the fuck?
It drops, hitting the desk with a thud that probably woke up half the floor. My hands are tingling, that same electric feeling from when I broke that asshole’s fingers at the bar. Except I wasn’t even angry this time.
I flex my fingers, watching tiny sparks dance between them like fireflies. This is new. This is very new. And it feels dangerous. Like there’s a live wire under my skin just waiting for an excuse to electrocute someone.
The sparks fade, but the tingling remains. Mom’s binding spell, whatever she did to keep me small and safe, is definitely unraveling. Part of me wants to see what’s underneath. The other part remembers the ghost’s warning about ending up dead or worse.
A knock at the door startles me. Three soft taps, almost polite. I check myself in the mirror—still wearing yesterday’s clothes, clearly winning at life—and open the door.
The man who tried to undress me with his eyes last night, Soren something or other, stands in my doorframe like he was born to make doorframes look good. He’s holding an apple, red and shiny as fresh blood.
“Breakfast,” he says, offering it to me. “Bet you haven’t eaten yet.”
His black eyes do that shifting thing, flashing silver for a moment. This close, I can feel something coming off him,radiating out towards me. Not magic exactly, but something that puts me on guard.
“An apple,” I say flatly. “Really?” Like he doesn’t look like temptation personified already.
“Sometimes the obvious choice is the right one.” He rolls the apple between his fingers, and I absolutely do not watch the way his hands move. “Besides, you need to eat. Can’t have you fainting during your initiation.”
“My what now?”
“Initiation. Tonight. Didn’t anyone tell you?”
I eye the apple. It looks normal enough, but this man is offering me fruit while looking at me like I’m a five-course meal. “What’s in it?”
“Vitamins. Fiber. A crisp, refreshing taste.” He steps closer, just enough that I have lean back. “Not everything is a trap, Rose.”
“In my experience, that’s exactly what people say right before everything becomes a trap.”
He laughs. “Fair point. But if I wanted to trap you, I wouldn’t need fruit.”
His presence fills my doorway, makes the small space feel smaller. I wonder if he can sense the way my heart rate has just kicked up, if he knows exactly what effect he’s having.
“Rose.”
Lucien’s voice cuts through whatever was building between Soren and me. He stands in the hallway, immaculate again in his tailored coat, looking at Soren like he’s something scraped off his expensive shoe.
“Lucien.” Soren doesn’t move from my doorway. “Perfect timing, as always.”
“I wasn’t aware you had business with Miss Smith this morning.” Lucien’s tone could freeze hell.
“Just being neighborly.” Soren tosses the apple up, catches it. “Someone should make sure she’s properly welcomed.”
“That would be my responsibility.”
“Would it?” Soren’s voice drips false innocence.
The temperature in the hallway drops about ten degrees. Lucien moves closer, and suddenly I’ve got two supernatural men having a pissing contest in my doorway. The testosterone is thick enough to choke on.
“The headmistress asked me to inform Miss Smith about tonight’s ceremony,” Lucien says, his red eyes never leaving Soren’s face. “You’re interfering.”
“Interfering implies she doesn’t want me here.” Soren glances at me, eyebrow raised. “Do you want me here, Rose?”
They both look at me expectantly, like I’m supposed to pick a side in whatever this is. The smart thing would be to close the door on both of them. The petty thing would be to take Soren’s apple just to see Lucien’s jaw clench harder.
“What I want,” I say slowly, “is coffee and about twelve more hours of sleep. What I’m getting is two guys measuring dicks in my doorway before noon.”
