Page 3 of Wicked Bonds
I take another step. The path is lined with crushed white moonstone that glows faintly, leading me in. Then I put my hand on the gate. The iron is wet, almost oily, and when I grip it, the serpents’ jeweled eyes flare brighter. There’s a sound like a groaning whine, and the gates begin to move.
As I step through, I glance back at the forest behind me, then up above. The clouds have cleared, revealing a full moon hanging impossibly large in the night sky. Its reddish glow casts everything in a crimson light that makes the shadows that much more foreboding.
A blood moon.
Of-fucking-course.
Two
Lucien
I stand motionless, watching the bloody moonlight spill across the academy grounds. The night air carries a chill, the kind that seeps into one’s bones regardless of their mortality, or lack thereof. The blood moon is no coincidence, not with the Coven involved.
Behind me, the academy’s towers stretch toward the night sky, their shadows elongating across the manicured lawns. Headmistress Wickersly’s orders were precise. I am to meet the girl, and bring her inside. Simple enough. And yet, I cannot quell this uneasiness.
The forest beyond the gates shifts as a presence approaches, subtle at first, then undeniable. Magic ripples through the wards like a stone tossed into still water. Not the self-aware steps of someone trained, but the clumsy, unwitting power of ability without skill. Untamed. Unpredictable.
“Careless,” I murmur to the empty air, testing the taste of her magic on my tongue.
I close my eyes. Every witch, every magical being has their own flavor. Most are pallid, beige things to me, unremarkable. Bland. But this one. I inhale deeply, drawing her into my assessment.
Earth. An earth witch. But then…
No, not quite that. This is grave dirt, decay but fertile with rebirth. Death clings to her. Her blood. Old, powerful blood. My fangs tingle. And beneath it all, the unmistakable primality of sex.
In other words, trouble.
I need to cut off this line of thought before it leads somewhere dangerous. But too late, because hunger crashes through me like a wave, immediate and vicious. My muscles lock, straining against the sudden, overwhelming desire to feed. To hunt. To take.
The last time I fed properly was three weeks ago. Some vapid socialite the Coven procured, all false eyelashes and empty giggles. She’d tasted of champagne and Xanax, artificial and hollow. I’d taken what I needed, nothing more, and sent her on her way with fuzzy memories of having too much to drink. Controlled. Civilized. Everything the Coven expects of their tame vampire.
I force my fangs to retract, reminding myself that I am a prince of the night, not some fledgling easily overcome by base hunger.
I straighten my jacket, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from the tailored fabric. My loyalty to the Crescent Moon Coven has never wavered, not in the centuries since my family first pledged our allegiance. I enforce their will. I maintain their secrets. I am the sword they swing against those who would challenge their authority.
Yet standing here, feeling her approach, something treacherous stirs within me. A desire not to serve, but to possess.
The wards quiver again, stronger this time. She’s close.
Her abilities have been suppressed, I can sense it from here. But the binding is splintering. Her power leaks through the cracks like light through a boarded-up window. There’s no doubt the Coven knows this, and it explains the unusual circumstances of her arrival. Most students pull up to the gates on their first day having already visited the campus, along with their families.
I roll my shoulders back, feeling my responsibility settle more firmly upon them. I will meet her with the indifference I’ve perfected over centuries. I will assess her capabilities, guide her into the academy, and report my findings to the headmistress. I will not allow her to cloud my judgment. I will certainly not indulge this inappropriate hunger that claws at my insides.
The forest parts suddenly, the enchantment responding to her approach as it’s been told to do. I catch my first glimpse of her through the trees.
She is… ordinary.
Dark hair pulled back from a face that would be unremarkable if not for the scowl. Clothing chosen for practicality, not style. The backpack slung over one shoulder that has seen better days is her first act of insubordination.
Something tells me it isn’t her last.
I watch her approach, her steps hesitating as she takes in the academy’s imposing exterior. For a moment, uncertainty reads across her face. She’s considering turning back; I can see it in theslight shift of her weight. But she won’t. She has no other place to go.
The blood moon bathes her in its disturbing light as she steps forward, and I prepare to greet the Serpentine Academy’s newest student.
Close up, she’s even less impressive.
The stain on her shirt, gin, going by the smell, means the girl can’t even perform a basic cleaning spell. Or she just doesn’t care how she shows up here. Neither bodes well for her time at the academy, considering who she’ll be living with, staff and faculty included.
