Crowned by blood, p.14
Crowned by Blood, page 14
part #3 of Daughter of Cain Series
“I need to practise setting the trap,” I murmur, and that much is true. “It looks like it will require my blood”—something that was conspicuously absent from the other fake spells, but seems to be involved in every single one of these ones—“among other ingredients which will be tricky to gather.”
“White oak,” Morwen guesses, correctly. “Silver. Wolfsbane.”
“We only need wolfsbane if we want to kill Ivan as well,” I correct. “Cain is a great evil, but Ivan…”
“Given half the chance, he would stab you in the back for Cain. They’ve been allies for thousands of years.”
“Can you imagine it?” I ask, curious. “Cain sharing a woman?”
The mere idea of Cain sharing anything is anathema to me. He’s always been a selfish, paranoid, compulsive creature.
Or perhaps those are simply the result of living so long. How many people have tried to kill him since he was turned? How lonely must it have been, knowing that only one other person would ever live as long as you. Well, technically two others, but in all my years, I’ve never heard so much as a whisper of the name Grigoriy.
Then again, Cain managed to erase Immy and I in under two-hundred years.
“I can’t imagine it,” Morwen confirms. “I don’t want to. Personally, I would find it easier to believe he manipulated the witch into giving him what he wanted and killed her to stop his immortality being taken away.”
It would make sense, and that does sound like Cain.
“We could use more witches,” I murmur.
“Well, I hate to break it to you, but the Greek ones aren’t exactly socialites.” She shoves off her stool and heads toward the stairs. “Like it or not, oh special one, you’re our only hope.”
Her parting words leave a bitter taste in my mouth, and I have to swallow my resentment.
I’d give anything to be in her shoes. Uncomplicated. Unburdened.
I give the text one last look before noting down the ‘basic’ exercise the text recommends for beginner witches—because apparently my ancestors had the forethought to include those in their grimoire too—and shuffling to my feet.
I could go and cuddle with Silas and Finn, but my emotions are still off, and they’ll be on to me in a heartbeat. Vane is also too perceptive; he’ll see right through me. Frost is keeping watch over Gideon’s door, so I could steal his empty room, but I selfishly don’t want to be alone.
Draven opens one eye as I slip beneath his covers, then tugs me against his chest without waiting for me to lie down of my own accord.
“What time is it?” he yawns.
“Early,” I reply, kissing the bottom of his jaw. “Go back to sleep.”
He groans, his erection pressing through the thin fabric of the shirt I’ve stolen to sleep in. “I can think of better things we could do.”
Perfect.
“Make me forget how to think,” I challenge.
His sleepy, sexy smile is more reassuring than all the comforting words in the world. Ducking his head, he runs his lips across the sensitive shell of my ear and then down to nibble at the lobe.
One hand wraps around my waist, pinning me in place as the other dips lower. His fingers play in my folds for a second, before sliding back and shoving inside me without warning.
I buck against him, moaning at the sudden, rough invasion.
“Oh, doll.” He chuckles under his breath. “I’m going to make you forget your name.”
His fangs sink into my neck with a lazy ease. I can’t help my gasp as his venom slides into my system, sending bubbles of ecstasy fizzing through my body. His fingers, already inside me, begin to thrust, curling up to rub against my G-spot as I fall limp and pliant under his spell. God, if he doesn’t take his fangs out of me, I’m going to come.
My nerves are singing, and my body physically aches with need by the time he lifts my leg, lines himself up, and drives into my body in one long thrust.
His fangs leave my throat for a second. “Play with your clit,” he orders. “You don’t stop coming until I do, understand?”
My hand falls down to play in my curls, wondering what he means, only for a scream to escape my lips as Draven bites back down again. This time, he holds nothing back. I thought he was using his venom before, but it turns out he must have been holding back. My orgasm rips through me as soon as my fingers brush my clit. My body convulses, and Draven chooses that moment to start moving.
It’s hard, fast fucking. Every bit as brutal and cold as Draven himself, but perfect for what I need right now. His hand on my thigh is almost bruising with the force he uses to hammer into me. It’s a sharp contrast to the gentle circles I’m drawing over my clit, but with his venom in my veins, that tiny contact is more than enough to send me over again. It’s overwhelming, lighting me up from within until my wrung-out body finally tips him over the edge. He comes with a muffled roar against my throat, pressing a kiss to the skin as he withdraws his fangs.
“Mmm, that’s how to wake up,” he mumbles, lowering my leg and dragging me against him.
I nod, smiling when he yawns. The snuggling is nice, and unusual for him, but it doesn’t take long for the sun to drag him back to sleep. I lie there, pleasantly sated and wrapped around his warm body, for almost ten minutes before my unwelcome thoughts begin to intrude once more.
Every single trick in the book fails to trick my mind into slumber. I toss, turn, and shift, slowly coming to the realisation that this isn’t working.
Sighing, because I recognise a sleepless day when I see one, I carefully extract myself from the vampire before tip-toeing around the room.
A day without sleep won’t kill me. There’s no use waiting around and wasting time.
After cleaning up, I head downstairs and reread my notes twice. The beginner exercise is a charm to summon rain.
Gathering the ingredients is easy—apparently real magic doesn’t require fancy saffron or cat teeth—just water in a bowl and a blade.
The hardest part is figuring out which bowl is the most practical, and I settle for a plain metal mixing bowl.
Notes in hand—protected by a plastic wallet because I learned my lesson after the last attempt—I set about clearing a patch of earth in the meadow, just beyond the tree-line.
“Blank mind, blank mind, blank mind,” I mutter to myself as I work.
How on earth they expect anyone to keep a completely blank mind for the amount of time it takes to clear a workable space is beyond me, but I do my best.
Then comes the real work. Drawing the dagger from its customary sheath at my belt, I dig the metal deep into my wrist.
Blood wells, coating the blade, and I waste no time shoving the silver into the ground, carving a ring around myself.
I almost lose focus when bright red flames leap up behind the trail of blood left by the blade. Inside my skull, my brain feels as if it’s physically expanding. Pushing against the limits of the bone. Deep within my chest, something… old stirs, stretching to wakefulness with a watchful groan.
Afraid to acknowledge it, I ignore it in favour of following the next step.
Once the circle is drawn, and flames lick up around me, I take a deep shuddering breath, and run the blade through my hand a second time before sheathing it. The fresh blood wells up and falls eagerly into the bowl of water on the ground. There’s barely enough to tint it pink, but the red flames have silenced my lingering doubts.
There are no words. No chants or complex invocations, unlike a few of the other pages I almost picked. Just intention.
So as I pick the bowl up and pour the water out onto the earth, I close my eyes and picture the biggest, darkest thunderclouds I’ve ever seen.
When I open my eyes, the fire is so high it’s above my waist. The ground has turned muddy, but the sky above is still just as clear and bright as any other August day.
Not a cloud to be seen.
I turn the bowl over and over in my hands, wondering if I did something wrong.
It all seemed to be going so well—
Splat.
A huge, fat raindrop lands down the back of my neck and rolls down my spine, making me shiver.
Dropping the bowl, I look back up, staring in amazement—and more than a little fear—at the ominous grey clouds which are swelling in the sky. Moments later, they break, unleashing a cold downpour.
The flames around me die under the onslaught, leaving me standing in a charred circle, with no protection from the storm.
Not that I can even think about getting dry at the moment.
I did this.
All of this time, part of me resisted the idea of being a witch. Every failed potion was evidence that it was all hearsay. Now…
I collapse to my knees as the implications of this hit me.
This is real.
I’m a witch.
I have the power to end my sire.
And I just managed to make it rain with only my blood and a bowl of water.
It’s all true. The grimoire is real. Someone has to die.
I don’t know how long I kneel in the dirt, the bowl abandoned beside me. The rain doesn’t let up, and before I know it, I’m soaked to the bone.
Through it all, that presence inside my chest is still there. Watching. Waiting.
Whatever it is, I’ve woken it up, and it doesn’t appear eager to return to dormancy.
“Evie?”
I recognise Vane’s voice, and I turn to face him. He’s standing at the tree line, holding an umbrella, his eyes wide with shock. My own stark vulnerability hangs in the air between us for a second before his long legs eat up the distance between us.
Instead of swooping down to pick me up, like I expect him to, he pauses at the burnt circle.
“Can I…”
I nod, silently.
That’s all the permission he needs to cross it. His black umbrella stops the constant pounding of rain against my skin, and without it, the chill somehow feels colder. A full body shiver travels the length of my spine, and I clutch my chest to try to stop it.
Vane’s coat surrounds me a second later, warm and smelling faintly of him.
“I made it rain,” I mumble. “I actually did it.”
His soulful hazel eyes soften, and he crouches beside me. “You did, but perhaps it’s time to come inside now?”
I nod, and the action triggers another full-body shiver. Vane wastes no time in scooping me up into his arms, and his long strides carry us back to the house.
“I didn’t want it to be real,” I whisper.
He doesn’t falter. “I know, princess.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
FINLEY
Gideon has been more and more affectionate recently, and I’m loving it. I was hesitant at first, since I didn’t know how much control he had, but since an incident a few days ago in which Draven ‘accidentally’ stabbed Silas and Gid barely reacted, the pack has dropped our guard around the alpha.
Well, that’s not entirely true. Vane is still a little on edge, but I suspect that’s because Gideon himself has asked him to keep an eye on him.
The beta’s attention is split, anyway.
Since Evie began truly practising her magic, he’s been too busy ensuring she has someone with her at all times. We’ve all seen why.
Whenever she uses that power of hers—which she has almost daily for the last week—she experiences a strange mood drop. Sometimes that means crying, sometimes it means she just stares into space for a long while. It clears up after a few hours, but it’s still disconcerting.
Perhaps it’s blood loss, or some unexplained side effect of magic, but I get the feeling it’s more than that.
Evie’s holding something back.
Right now, Gid and I are alone together for the first time in forever. I’m snuggled up with my back to his side, enjoying the soft absent strokes of his hand over my shoulder as I tap away on the keyboard of my laptop.
“Supplies are coming a few days after the full moon,” I mumble. “I know that’s a week away, but it’s the best they could do, given the sudden request and the need for subtlety. The other teams should start arriving after that, but there are a lot of security concerns, given the situation…”
The resistance hasn’t gathered in one place for decades. Before Frost made the call to split into mostly independent cells, they were picked off en masse.
Gid stiffens, hand pausing momentarily before he resumes petting me. “We’ll make it work.” Another brief hesitation. “We should talk about the full moon… about your idea.” He plays with the final word in his mouth.
I look up, a stone settling in my gut. Is he about to turn me down? I thought over the last week we’d been getting closer, and he was getting more comfortable with the idea. I’d even hoped—with the full moon just days away—that he’d be considering a test run soon.
Was I wrong?
“I’ve been practising, and… Frost believes I’m ready.”
Frost’s opinion has weight, but I’d still rather have Gideon’s own thoughts on the matter. “Do you?”
“I think… I think it’s a massive risk I’d rather never have to take. My therapist seems to believe…”
He sighs, flopping back, and I wait, impatiently tapping my fingers against the bottom of the all-but-forgotten laptop.
“She thinks we require more communication before and during sex,” he admits. “I’m not—I haven’t been the best at listening to your wants and needs.”
“What I need,” I grumble, shoving the laptop to the floor and turning so I’m facing him. “Is for you to fuck me exactly how you normally do. Or better yet, fuck me while I fuck Evie, until we’re one big sweaty mess and your knot is wedged so far up my ass I can taste it. Then I need you to stick around for cuddles, and maybe even round two. Bonus points if you both drink from me at the same time.”
I crawl closer to him as I speak, dropping my eye contact and baring my neck the slightest fraction instinctively.
“Use me, alpha,” I beg, shamelessly. “That’s what I want. What I’ve always wanted.”
His body is rigid beneath me, control seconds from snapping. Every single cell of him is riddled with sexual tension.
“You make a persuasive argument,” he grinds out. “But we’re missing a person.”
I reach inside myself and search for the bond to Evie. I have no idea if this will work, but I try my best to tug at it while sending all of my pent up desire across the distance between us.
She’s been outside vacillating between frustration and determination all night while working on her new witchy abilities. When her emotions suddenly collapse into a pile of relief and excitement, I know I’ve gotten through to her.
“She’ll come.” I arch my neck a little further, my instinct demanding I be as submissive as possible given that I’m currently on top.
Gideon doesn’t snap at the news, but he does relax the slightest increment. His head finds the gap between my head and shoulder, scenting me, and the hot puff of his breath tickles against my throat, making me shudder.
The sound of the door opening makes me glance up, and when I catch sight of her, I grin.
“Do you have time to join us?” I tease.
She nods, and Gid hardens further beneath me.
“Upstairs,” he mutters. “We’re going to need a bed… and privacy.”
I grimace at the unwelcome reminder that Morwen and Mia could walk in on us, and make a mental note to order enough supplies to build them their own place.
Call me selfish, but I’d like to be fucked in front of this giant fireplace at least twice more in my life without fear of them interrupting.
I lift away from Gid and make a dash for Evie, scooping her up into my arms and heading for the stairs at speed. Gid’s alpha instincts will love the challenge of chasing us, and I’m rewarded for my efforts with a warning growl.
Lycans live for the thrill of the hunt, after all.
“Try not to wind him up too much this first time,” Evie murmurs softly against my ear, aware of what I’m doing. “I know you love to play, but go easy on him.”
Go easy on Gid? Ha!
We only make it to my bedroom door because he allows us to. The second we’re across the threshold, his hand wraps around my throat, stilling me.
“Put her down.”
I do as he orders, letting Evie get to her feet.
“Do you both remember your safe words?” His grip on my throat tightens, and I relax into the grip with a needy whine.
I nod as much as his grip will allow, and Evie gives a surprisingly demure, “Yes, Alpha.”
“Good. Clothes off before I rip them off.”
Evie doesn’t hesitate. Stripping her top over her head, she drags her leggings down those long legs, revealing inch after inch of her glorious skin.
Gid’s hand prevents me from doing the same, so I’m forced to battle clumsily with my shirt until a very naked Evie takes over the task.
“Take his jeans off,” Gid orders, a snarl edging his words with barely leashed violence. “Then get on your knees and get him nice and wet.”
Her fingers—so sure and steady on my buttons—tremble as she works the fly of my jeans and tugs the heavy fabric down my legs. She falls gracefully to her knees when she’s finished, her face so close to my cock that I can feel her breath whispering over the sensitive skin.
“Not wearing underwear?” Gideon grumbles, and I jump at his voice so close to my ear. “Why am I not surprised?”
I dutifully step out of my jeans and groan as Evie’s lips press a soft kiss to the head of my dick, then another.
Finally, her tongue flicks out to taste me.
“I said suck, not tease.”
Heeding Gideon’s warning tone, Evie stretches her lips wide and engulfs as much of me as she can in one go. I hiss out a breath at the warm silk of her throat engulfing me.
“Wetter,” Gideon demands as she pulls back. “Stick those fingers in your cunt while you do it. Get yourself ready for him.”
I know he’s trying to make it good for her. He won’t be able to hold back once he gets involved and his instincts come into play. He may think he turns into an unfeeling brute when he gets like this, but he’s not.
