The last werewolf had a knife in its chest, but it pushed to its feet and lunged for Willow, anyway. I closed the distance between us quickly, grabbing it out of midair by its throat and tearing it out. Willow’s arms were covered in even more blood by the time I dropped it to the ground. I lifted a hand to wipe the creature’s blood from the side of my face.
“Gray,” she murmured as I narrowed my rage-filled stare on her. I adjusted my suit, taking another step toward her as she backed away slowly.
“What. Were. You. Thinking?” I asked, enunciating the words slowly. I extended a hand, touching the wounds on her cheek.
“I…” She trailed off, and for once, she seemed to not have any words.
She pulled out of my grip slowly, dropping to her knees and collecting a handful of dirt. She pressed it into the slash marks, letting her magic heal her. I watched as the skin knit itself back together.
Something about her choice to use dirt rather than my blood set me on edge.
“You could have been killed,” I growled, reaching down to take her hand. Guiding her back toward the school, I watched from the corner of my eye as Willow glanced behind her and to the boundary with Salem.
“How many of those things are there?” she asked, looking over her shoulder. Searching for more of them, I realized. A bit of the tension consuming my chest eased.
“I haven’t exactly taken a census,” I said, tucking her into my side. Her steps were slow and measured, as if walking took all the energy from her.
“What are they?” she asked.
I sighed as I scooped her into my arms. She wrapped her arms around my neck, but the movement and contact were far more hesitant. As if she wasn’t sure how to touch me, when she’d never hesitated to put her hands on me in the past.
To torment and tease.
I’d saved her fucking life, and she acted like I was the monster.
“The Cursed,” I said, turning my stare down to those odd, mismatched eyes. She was such a unique conundrum, my witch of two bloodlines.
Someone I had spent a very, very long time waiting for.
“Who cursed them?” Willow asked, swallowing as she held my stare. I leaned forward, running my nose against the side of hers in an effort to soothe her. She was jumpy, jolting back from the contact instead of allowing me to offer her comfort.
“Charlotte Hecate,” I answered, glaring at what remained of the monsters she’d created in her first moments of power. “When she first made her deal with Him, she had no ability to control the magic she suddenly had. There were men from Salem village chasing her through the woods, trying to hunt her down so they could imprison and ultimately hang her. The original Cursed were those men, and I imagine they can sense her blood in you.”
“I never understood how the witch trials even began before Charlotte’s deal,” Willow said, gazing out at the woods as I carried her back to Hollow’s Grove. I hadn’t even arrived in town when Kairos called to inform me that he’d seen Willow race into the woods as if her life depended on it.
“The fear of ignorant men is a powerful thing. Charlotte decided if they were going to kill her for practicing witchcraft even though she was innocent, then she was going to do the very thing they accused her of,” I answered, staring off into the woods as I thought of the way Charlotte had recalled her life experiences. “She made them eat their words and their convictions.”
Willow opened her mouth, preparing to ask the next question that she hoped would distract me. “I—”
“How long do you intend to avoid answering my questions? What were you doing in the woods in the first place, Willow?” I asked, watching as she pinched her eyes closed.
Silence.
“Susannah cornered me in the gardens. She knows what I am, Gray,” she said finally, and everything in me stilled.
Well, that changed things significantly. I didn’t respond to her as we approached the front doors of Hollow’s Grove. I’d ask more when my witchling was safely tucked into my office, with no plants to answer her call.
36
WILLOW
I stepped out of Gray’s bedroom after showering, dressed in the clothes he had fetched from my room for me. I tried not to think about the way he’d found homes for the spare sets in his drawers and his closet, hinting at the number of nights he expected me to spend here.
I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I walked past the dresser, prodding at the bite marks on each side of my neck. The lacy bralette I wore beneath an off-shoulder black sweater did nothing to disguise them, leaving them open to view. I had a feeling it was intentional, since Gray had chosen what to leave out and what to pack away.
He wasn’t in the bedroom, giving me a few moments to contemplate my next move. Ending up back here after running was the worst-case scenario. He would know something was wrong, and I didn’t know how much I could lie and insinuate that I’d been afraid of Susannah when she didn’t turn up after our altercation.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I moved to the door, pulling it open and stepping into the sitting area. There was no sign of Gray on the sofa, so I ducked my head low and kept my gaze fixated on the floor in front of me. Making my way to the door to the hallway, I considered my options for escape.
The woods weren’t an option, clearly.
“Where are you sneaking off to?” he asked, stopping me as I approached the door.
I dropped the hand that had started to reach for the doorknob, letting it fall to my side as I turned to face him at his desk with a sad, pathetic smile I knew would do nothing to appease his curiosity.
“I was just going to go grab something to eat,” I said, picking at my fingers with the hand that stayed by my side. My hand rubbed against the fabric of my leggings, and I fought to still the motion. “Do you want me to bring you anything?”
“I hardly think you’re in any position to give me the only nourishment I’m interested in right now,” he said, the smirk that transformed his face playful. Something in it didn’t reach his eyes in the same way it normally would have, and I couldn’t decide if what had changed was him or just my perception of him. “Sit, please. I have something I’d like to discuss with you first.”
I smiled, pursing my lips as I took the seat in front of his desk. He stood from his seat the moment my ass touched the chair, walking around to my side and leaning against the desk. He’d stripped off his suit jacket, but his white shirt was still stained with the blood of the werewolves he’d slaughtered. He didn’t seem to mind as he undid his cufflinks, rolling his sleeves up to reveal his forearms.
“Ooo… we’re using good manners. Am I in trouble?” I asked, forcing a playful smile to my face.
He stared at me with the slightest of smirks, a tiny huff of humorless breath escaping him as he saw right through my bullshit.
“That depends. Do you want me to punish you, Witchling?” he asked, reaching down to grip the edge of his desk. His grip tightened until the wood groaned, and I shifted in my chair.