Once Upon a Dark October

Chapter Twelve

A t half past six in the evening, we gathered in the front parlor for what Morrigan considered a formal dinner. I’d learned that the coven preferred to take their meals where they could lounge around a lively fire rather than the extravagant table that spanned the length of the dining room. I had no complaints, for I’d been feeding from Morrigan mostly in a state of undress between her bedchamber and washroom for the past week.

In spite of the fledgling cravings that threatened to gnaw at me from the inside—and my personal preference to have Morrigan undressed—this arrangement made me truly feel part of the coven, not a bloodthirsty, feverish monster that had to be sequestered. They had welcomed me into their home at my weakest, lowest point, sheltered and cared for me as they had promised that fateful night.

A connection had been forged between us not only through blood but compassion. I’d do anything to return their kindness. To earn my place here among them, even if it took years. Decades, perhaps.