“You won’t find them,” I said, calling after him.
He froze, spinning to pin me with a glare. “Why wouldn’t I? I think you’ll find I’m quite resourceful, and there’s no corner of this school I do not know.”
I paused, running conditioner through my hair before I answered. “You won’t find them because I didn’t fight.”
“Them? More than one person beat the fucking shit out of you, and you didn’t fight?” he asked, the sudden stillness in his body enough to chase away the remnants of being blood drunk.
“Not every fight is worth fighting,” I whispered, running my fingers through my hair as I stood beneath the spray.
“You could have been killed,” he said, his face twisting with something that felt too much like recognition.
I turned away, staring at the tiled shower as I prepared to lay the darkest part of me open and raw. It was a calculated choice, a strategy. I closed my eyes tightly.
But that didn’t make it any less true.
“And if I was? What difference would it have made?” Silence arched between us as I opened my eyes slowly, meeting the storm waging in his eyes with a twist of my lips as I fought back the burn of tears. “The only person who would care is—”
Gray closed the distance between us, stepping into the shower and backing me into the wall. Water beat down on his head, slicking his dark hair to his skin as his eyes sparked with anger.
“I. Would. Care.”
My heart thumped in my chest, the conviction in those words almost enough to make me believe them. If only it were possible.
“Gray,” I murmured, shaking my head as he grasped my chin and raised my gaze back to his.
That hand slid to cup my jaw, his fingers grazing the side of my neck. “You fight. Every moment of every day, you fight. Because that is who you are,” he whispered, dropping his forehead to mine.
“What happens when I’m tired of fighting?” I asked, trying to ignore the pool of tears threatening to fall. Hoping the water from the shower would wash them away before he could notice.
His face softened, his lips touching mine in a kiss that was so much more delicate than any other. “Then you let me do it for you.”
30
WILLOW
Gray laid me on the bed, his clothes dripping all over the floor as he tended to me first. Helping me shift beneath the blankets, he didn’t seem bothered by the fact that I was naked in his sheets as he turned away and strode into the bathroom.
I stared at the ceiling as my fingers clutched the blanket to my chest, feeling more laid bare than I’d allowed in… longer than I could remember. I’d had Ash before, had the innocent love of my little brother to keep me motivated.
I still did, in a way. Still had the knowledge that what I did would give him a better life in the end to push me forward. But I couldn’t shake the sinking feeling in my gut. The one that questioned if I was really better than any of the people of the Coven whom I’d claimed to hate.
Gray was an asshole. He was infuriating and brought out the absolute worst in me.
But he was also the first person I’d turned to when I was hurt, and even I couldn’t convince myself it had been because of the bargain between us.
My hair was damp against the pillow, the sheets soft against my skin. I lay in the bed of the man who was meant to be my enemy, who, according to the plan my father had decided for me before I’d been born, I would send back to Hell and never see again once I found the bones.
My nostrils flared as I threw back the blankets, swinging my legs over the edge. I hurried to his dresser, grabbing one of his shirts and pulling it over my head in a hurry. It hung around my hips, drowning me in a way that I didn’t let myself stop to appreciate.
I grasped the handle of the door to his bedroom, turning the knob and hauling it open in my haste to get away. I couldn’t breathe, the sudden suffocation of all my conflicting feelings hitting me straight in the chest.
My heart twisted, my breathing stalling. The door pulled out of my hand, slamming shut as I whirled to face the man who’d stepped out of the bathroom to find me attempting to flee. He’d stripped off his clothes, the lines of corded, well-trained muscle tensing and relaxing as he dropped the towel he’d used to dry his hair to the floor. Another towel was tied around his waist, and I swallowed as I pressed my back into the door behind me.
“Going somewhere, love?” he asked, taking slow, measured steps toward me. Even with the predatory way he watched me, he dropped his outstretched hand to his side.
“How did you do that?” I asked, my eyes widening in realization. We were still alone in the room, no sign of any witches I hadn’t seen before to close the door.
He smiled slowly, his fangs gleaming at the corner of his mouth. “One of the reasons the Covenant decided we could no longer pair bond with witches was because of the addiction it created and the secret relationships it encouraged between our kinds,” he said, reiterating the words Iban had told me before. “But that wasn’t the only reason.”
“Why else did they end the pair bonds?” I asked, swallowing as he finally reached me.
He pushed a wet strand of hair back from where it had plastered itself to my face, staring down at me intently. “Because if a Vessel feeds from the same witch repeatedly, if it is that one witch’s blood exclusively that flows through veins, we get the magic that goes with it. Not the same as the witch possesses, but enough for little tricks.”
“But during the Reaping…” I sighed, my brow twisting with confusion. He’d fed on someone else then, while another Vessel took my blood for his dinner.
“You think I would allow anyone but me to touch you?” he asked, chuckling as he slid his hand to my nape. He trailed his fingers over the tree there, the touch so similar to the man who’d fed from me that realization dawned.
“You asshole!” I shrieked, placing my hands on his chest and shoving him back.
The cold malice of his laughter spread through the room, raising the hair on my arms as he leaned away from me and grasped my chin between two fingers. “Careful, love. You just might come close to admitting you wanted it to be me.”
“Fuck you,” I rasped, slumping against the door. I’d been panicking, struggling with my feelings for him, and he’d been playing games with me the entire time.
“You’re so focused on the Reaping that you haven’t even stopped to consider the greater concern, have you?” he asked, leaning down to touch his mouth to mine. He paused there, steely eyes staring at me as his fang touched my lip when he smirked. “I can feel your magic flowing through me—even the faintest whisper of what you cannot touch.”
I froze, my body going still as I stared up at him in horror. I swallowed as he wrapped his palm around the front of my throat—shoving me into the door and pinning me there. I struggled against his grasp, the terror clawing at me making me frantic as I scratched his arms with my nails.