by Rhea Watson
Couldn’t protect myself.
Couldn’t… do anything.
Seconds later, a shadowy blur raced into the greenhouse, and then there was my Bjorn tearing Benedict out of Gavriel’s clutches and slamming him onto the concrete by the door. Given the table’s height, I couldn’t get a good look at the fucker, but as soon as Bjorn lunged after him, he stopped just as fast—Benedict must have drawn his wand.
Gavriel shot up beside me, wings massive enough to stretch between worktables, eyes silvery slits and fixed on Benedict. Snarling, he stalked forward, unfazed by the wand, only to still when Bjorn caught him by the scruff of the neck and hauled him back.
“So, this how it is, boys?” Benedict needed to grip the doorframe to drag himself up, glass crunching underfoot, the door blown off its hinges. Tits out, I worked as hard as I could to tip my chin a half inch down so I could see him—let him know I wasn’t cowering even with my guys here. Blood trickled from his nose, his split lip, his busted eyebrow. Two blackening eyes and a chipped front tooth. If Gavriel had had just a minute alone with him, he probably wouldn’t be standing now—nor would he have much of a face left. The warlock flicked his wand between the pair, that thin bit of wood barely keeping the lions at bay. “Ask your girl what happened the last time some beta male interfered with my affairs.”
Spotlights spilled through the greenhouse walls to my left, and as Cedar? echoed from multiple male voices, I guessed help was on the way—for him.
“Touch her again, Hammond, and I’ll rip your hands clean off,” Bjorn growled. “Then you can watch me eat them.”
The threat, the sound of his real name coming from an inferior creature, turned Benedict pale—then furious. His accusatory glare jumped to me, and Bjorn stepped in to block the rage, hurriedly dragging my peacoat closed, protecting my modesty.
Unnecessary, but I expected no less from my vampire.
My heart sank, however, when I noticed Benedict’s thin smile, all teeth, through the crook of Bjorn’s arm.
“So,” the warlock sneered, attention suddenly on Gavriel, Bjorn and me just an afterthought, “you defecting to Darkwell anytime soon, fae?”
I couldn’t get a read on his expression, but Gavriel’s wings suddenly flared, slamming into Bjorn hard enough to shove him into the table.
“What did you just say?” the fae hissed. He took a menacing step forward—then stiffened when a half dozen security warlocks filled the greenhouse’s busted doorway.
“You all right, Professor Cedar?”
“We saw these two coming down and came as fast as we could.”
“Are you bleeding, sir?”
“Shall I call for backup?”
What the fuck is happening right now?
“Hey, sycophants,” Gavriel snapped, gesturing back to me as Bjorn continued to fix my outfit, expression hard as stone. His fae counterpart, meanwhile, was all fire and brimstone as he bit out, “He attacked her!”
A horrible beat of silence followed, and then my cheeks burned when a few of the warlocks laughed.
“Her?” One voice rose over the cruel chuckles. “The academy mattress? Doubtful.”
“Not the least bit surprised to find Professor Clarke on her back,” another added, which kicked off the next round of laughter.
Bjorn ripped a button off my peacoat as he slowly glared back at them.
“What was that?”
The laughter died. I’d never heard him sound like that before, so growly and rough, more beast than man. Even Gavriel gave him some space as he faced the security bros at his full height, fangs bared, huge hands suddenly in fists.
“Leave it,” I heard Benedict drawl. “Alecto and I will pick up this discussion at a later date.”
And then he was gone, just like that, security goons at his heels—and clearly in his pocket.
Funny—depressing—how fast and easy some men sell their morals.
Bjorn and Gavriel watched him go with the same dumbfounded air about them that I felt curdling in my gut. As soon as my fae retracted his wings, revealing two massive holes in his suit, I let go. If his wings were gone, the danger had passed; Benedict couldn’t see me break down, tears falling freely now, panic strangling me with every squeaky gasp.
My guys sprang to immediately, Bjorn scooping me into a seated position on the table, Gavriel wiping my tears with his sleeve. Their eyes blazed with anger, but they handled me gently—which made it that much harder to keep my shit together.
Because I was fucking furious with myself. Not just Benedict—me. I had let my guard down long enough for him to strike, and if the guys hadn’t found me, there was no telling what would have happened.
Sexual assault, sure, but with Benedict, there would be so much more to it.
“Can you move?” Bjorn murmured, testing my limbs for me, a low snarl rumbling in his chest when I managed the tiniest of head shakes.
“No, but the h-hex is wearing off,” I mumbled, hating that I needed Gavriel to swing my legs over the side of the table while Bjorn propped me upright. Several of my prized plants scattered across the floor, crushed and trampled.
“I’m so sorry, elskling…” Bjorn smoothed my hair away from my face as I stared blankly at the ghost orchid that had been smooshed and smeared under someone’s foot—at the dragon’s blood tree sapling I’d been babying for months now, potted but ready for transport to the conservatory. “A student held me up, but I should have been there—”
“I just saw the light and came down on a whim,” Gavriel interjected lightly, almost apologetically, the pair exchanging glances, private conversations flowing right in front of me. “I’ll try to be around more—”
My sob cut him off and had them both coddling me, Bjorn with a kiss to my cheek, my temple, my neck, and Gavriel with both hands clutching at one of mine, tight enough to cull circulation.
“It’s all right, fury,” the fae whispered, noticeably uncomfortable with the tender moment but clearly trying his best to be supportive.
“You’re safe now,” Bjorn murmured against my skin. On the complete opposite end of the spectrum, my vampire didn’t have to try: he was protective by nature, cuddly and sweet and thoughtful and just what I needed—in any other circumstance.
“I’m n-not safe,” I rasped, fury scorching through the lacings around my stubborn heart. “And I’m not scared—I’m fucking pissed.”
Gavriel’s eyes snapped to mine—finally, an emotion he could work with—and Bjorn hopped up on the table beside me with a sigh, tucking me under his arm, that dimpled chin resting on top of my head.
If I could move, I’d be vibrating with rage.
And shame.
Shame that Benedict had gotten the jump on me, that he stripped me half-naked and was about to, what, fucking rape me to prove a point?
Gods.
Oh, gods.
“Fuck the high council,” I choked out, voice thick, gaze stuck on my brutalized plants. Their pots might have broken. Their blooms might be dead. But the roots were good, the stems sturdy, the leaves stronger than they looked. They would bounce back from this—and so would I. Benedict might have academy security under his thumb, but if tonight had proven anything, it was that there would always be an opportunity for the viper to strike… if it had enough patience. “Screw a trial. When the time is right, I’m taking the shot.”
Right between his fucking eyes.
16
Bjorn
Lately, whenever my elskling crashed in my bed for the night, she did so naked—and always after sex. Which meant she had been here most nights this term. Alecto Corwin was an epic space hog, however, and tended to flail in her sleep. Although she hadn’t said as much, maybe to spare my feelings, it was obvious she preferred a bed all to herself.
Luckily for us, I could survive on an hour or two of sleep thanks to her wayward fists and jerky legs.
Tonight, she nestled at my side fully clothed, drowning in one of my undershirts and a pair of her slouchy sleep pant
s.
Tonight, she curled up beside me because she was scared to sleep alone.
For as long as I’d known her, nightmares came with the territory, but they’d intensified since Alice’s death. As four o’clock approached, I had already roused her three times, attuned to her racing heart and her darting eyes. At least she appeared to be fighting in her dreams, but the last time I dragged her out of one, she woke with a gasp, then a sob, face crumpling and tears falling like floodwaters.
That was an hour ago. After a trip to the bathroom and a great deal of cuddling, she eventually settled, and only recently had her breath evened out and her muscles relaxed, my elskling like a tight kernel of rage and fear at my side.
No shock there, not after tonight.
Benedict had taken this battle from us. Cut us off at the knees and delivered a crucial blow to our forces.
Fucking piece of garbage.
Had I been on time for our meet-up, it could have been avoided, but a student distracted me—one of my new orphan vampires had asked to hear my journey. In detail. Sure, he had beat around the bush getting there, rambling about nonsense and tangenting into oblivion. But eventually he came to the point, and while desperate to finally shuttle a lost nocturnal sparrow under my wing, my girl needed an escort.
With that in mind, I had to book an appointment for the lad instead, blocking off two hours during a time I knew Gavriel would be free to stand guard against Benedict Hammond.
But none of that mattered now.
The warlock had struck, swift and deadly, infecting our girl with his poison, upping her nightmares.
Making her cry.
I’d wanted to kill him tonight.
Tear him apart. Scatter his limbs across the highlands.
At the time, as I ripped the fucker away from Gavriel before the fae broke every bone in his face, I’d thought Alecto wouldn’t want that. She craved justice. She needed to clear her family’s name and scream Hammond’s guilt from the mountaintops.
Now… I wasn’t so sure.
If she took the shot, killed him outright, he would haunt her forever. Just like these nightmares. In fact, she could end up behind bars beneath a coven courthouse, wasting away in what should have been his cell.
No.
I wouldn’t let that happen.
I wouldn’t let the bastard win.
In the end, however, I would respect her final decision.
But from experience, death was rarely the end. Thousands of ghosts nipped at my heels to this day, and I wouldn’t wish that guilt on anyone.
By my side, Alecto inhaled sharply and tried to roll over, the mattress shifting beneath us. Propped on a mountain of pillows, I allowed a few moments of tossing and turning, kicking and shoving, mumbling nonsense under her breath, before gently steering her back to me. I stretched her arm across my torso while mine pressed down her back, locking her in place, then waited until she burrowed her face into my side. Briefly, her heart rate spiked, then crashed, and I closed my eyes and thunked my head back against the wall.
The beginnings of another nightmare.
Across the flat, another distinct thunk had my eyes snapping back open.
The telltale thunk of the front door’s lock opening.
Perfectly at ease in the darkness, I sat up just enough not to rouse her, every sense homed in on the locks unbolting—then the door swinging open.
Would Benedict be so bold as to invade our flat in the dead of night?
Did he think he stood a fucking chance against a vampire at this hour?
Nostrils flared, I breathed deep to scent the intruder.
Tobacco. Remnants of cologne I didn’t associate with Hammond: woodsy with notes of amber and citrus, a sprinkle of maple.
Crisp, sharp footfalls on the hardwood as the intruder padded in and soundlessly closed the door behind.
A slow heartbeat.
Smirking, I sank into the pillows.
Fae heartbeats were so distinct compared to everyone else in the castle. Warlocks and witches shared a rhythm with humans. Shifters were erratic and all over the place, sometimes painfully slow, others intense and frantic, thunder roaring in their chests while their expressions gave nothing away.
Fair folk were the perfect supernatural killing machine, their hearts slow and steady, rarely ever rising even in anger.
And Gavriel had so much anger in him.
Once he was inside, the fae shifted his approach, footsteps suddenly light as air. Gone were the crisp click-click-clicks of his overpriced loafers, replaced with a whisper that even I strained to detect. Still, once I got a feel for it, I tracked his pacing back and forth between the door, tiptoeing into our flat, then back again. Over and over again, indecisive. His huff made me grin. His fae curses made me roll my eyes.
Finally, he drifted to Alecto’s bedroom, then, presumably finding it empty, he made his way to mine. Nudged open the door. Loitered at the threshold, his silver eyes haunting in the darkness.
In the silence that followed, I dragged my hand up Alecto’s back, then curved my arm around her shoulders.
“I don’t know what I’m doing here,” Gavriel admitted eons later, voice barely a murmur. To his credit, he didn’t reek of booze tonight. No hint of the herbs that got him high. He looked rumpled, his vest unbuttoned, dress shirt crinkled, trousers wrinkled. Clearly he hadn’t jumped out of bed, unable to sleep, and wandered down here.
He had been awake all this time.
Just like me.
And like me, he was here for her. As the days went on, feelings stretched deeper, like Yggdrasil, the divine world tree upon which all our realms sat, its ancient roots spiderwebbing into the ether. Time cemented our tether. Made the relationship more important. Made the bond he felt a priority for the first time in his long, war-torn life—just like me.
Alecto and Gavriel both struggled with intimacy. Not sex, of course, but emotional connection. Our girl made progress faster than this fae, especially after the last visit with Jack, but Gavriel was getting there, one tedious step at a time.
“You’re here because you’re in love with her,” I whispered back. Might as well nudge him a few steps forward while I had the chance—while he was sober and coherent and calm, and while he had come here on his own, seeking comfort and companionship from those who would freely give it, no strings attached.
The fae’s jaw danced through a clench. “I’m not… It’s too soon.” He speared his hands through his hair, then death-gripped my doorframe like it had insulted his mother. “Am I?”
I shrugged. “Seems that way.”
“Fuck’s sake.”
“I know the feeling.”
“Well, you would,” Gavriel remarked, his sneer good-natured. “Soft-hearted twat. I’m…”
“Also a soft-hearted twat,” I finished for him. He flipped me the V. I tossed it right back, careful not to jostle a still-snoozing Alecto. My elskling inhaled deeply, then kneed me hard in the thigh. Fantastic. I stroked her hair, picking gently through the curls to the base of her skull when her heart rate started to climb again. “The sooner you accept it, the easier it gets.”
“Well, I guess I’m just stubborn—”
“No shit.”
Grinning, I glanced toward the door and found Gavriel lost in her.
“She’s a terrible bed hog,” I insisted, affection warming my words, “but she’s been having nightmares lately… Nightly, actually. Tonight, after Hammond, has been rough.”
The fae’s jaw gritted again, and this time the poor wooden doorframe groaned, on the verge of splintering beneath his fingertips. My pointed throat clearing made him loosen up, but if looks could kill, this entire castle would be toast.
I let him stew in the same wrath that burned in my heart for a few minutes, cuddling our girl, soothing the nightmare before it spiraled out of control. However, I wasn’t about to let him loiter in the doorway for the next three hours, either. Sharing a bed was fine; having some raging fae play voyeur while
we slept? No.
“So—” I nodded to the empty space on the other side of Alecto. “—you getting in, or—”
“Fuck no.” Gavriel recoiled at the idea, arms crossed—eyes longing. “That’s a bit much.”
Stubborn shit. “Well, her bed is empty if you want to sleep there.”
“Fine.”
“Shall I tell her you stopped by in the morning?”
Gavriel paused just as he turned away, then shook his head.
“No,” he muttered over his shoulder. “I’ll tell her myself… I’ll still be here. Always wanted to see if the water pressure in this entire tower is fucked, or if it’s just mine.”
I smirked as he padded away, tuned in to the creak of Alecto’s bedsprings, the thunk, thunk of his shoes hitting the floor after he kicked them off one by one. A little closer to home, my elskling sucked in a sharper, more panicked breath, one tinged by a moan, and her pulse spiked seconds later. Humor gone, I pulled her close and tucked her under my chin, cradling the back of her head as I snuggled into her hair and closed my eyes, on guard and ready to chase the nightmares away.
One horror at a time.
17
Alecto
As soon as the 8:45 chimes tapered off, a high-pitched scream erupted from deep within the castle.
Bjorn and I stuttered to a halt halfway up the hillside steps, greenhouses at our back, Root Rot’s heart looming overhead. A humid spring breeze whipped across campus, the winds at an eleven for days like they were dragging away winter and ushering in spring.
Despite the milder temperatures, my blood ran cold as ice at that sound.
“What the fuck was that?”
Too familiar. Too much like Alice, that cry.
A step below, Bjorn smoothed his hand across my lower back, then up between my shoulders as he ushered me along, both of us taking the stairs two at a time now. A quick glance back showed him alert, icy blues dancing around, checking the shadows for danger, my vampire padding forward with his ears open and hackles up.