34
EVIE
I n the morning, I nestled deeper into Kylo’s hold. His broad hand traced soothing circles on my back, and he kissed my head.
My stomach did a somersault.
I was slow to remember last night, and if I were being honest, I almost didn’t want to. Because that meant that I couldn’t merely relax in Kylo’s tattooed, impossibly strong arms. I couldn’t let myself buy into the idea that maybe he really was my protector, the answer to all of my idealistic, romantic prayers.
“Stay put, angel. I’m going to fetch you coffee.”
I burrowed deeper into his chest with a long exhale. He was not making my next actions easy for me.
“Sweet girl,” he cooed. “I know you need your fuel before you hex, curse, and maim me.”
I made a disgruntled noise against his shirt.
He chuckled, peeling me off him to stare into my eyes. “Pity you’re holding onto this indignation so tightly. Good girls get woken up with my tongue between their thighs.”
My core was suddenly hot and achy, my breathing quicker. Kylo knew it too—he knew too much about me, at all times.
That cocky grin wouldn’t be on his face for long.
When he left, I quickly ran through my plan. And when he returned with coffee, I decided I had no time to waste.
Kylo trailed his long fingers through my hair as he handed me the mug, kissing my temple. “I’m going to make you that breakfast I promised.”
I squirmed, this silly, misplaced guilt suddenly churning in my stomach. If Kylo didn’t feel guilt for endangering my younger brother, why should I feel guilt for merely asserting my autonomy?
“Hey,” Kylo said gently. “You don’t have to be so strong with me, okay? I see the way you care for everyone around you, even to your own detriment. Let me do for you what you’ve done for others your whole life, angel.”
The guilt multiplied. He was in his vampire form, all muscles and tattoos and raw power. And yet he still had this hold over me, a dependence I couldn’t shake, one he’d planted inside my heart when I hadn’t been looking.
“Thank you.” The words left my lips before I could stop them. I thought of Idris, snapping myself out of Kylo’s spell. “I’m going to take a shower.”
Kylo nodded. “Sounds good. I can only assume you’ll be taking your coffee in there with you.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Obviously.”
He laughed, that tiny dimple working overtime to melt my hardened resolve.
As soon as he left my bedroom, I rummaged through my closet for a dress. I scooped up my sneakers, a pair of socks, and my crossbody bag, and I peeked out into the hallway.
I could already smell something heavenly cooking, and more unnecessary, people-pleasing guilt wormed into my guts. Kylo was humming as he worked, once again deceiving me with his domesticity skills when I knew full-well he was a deadly, criminal clan lord.
I huffed as I tiptoed into the bathroom and shut the door behind me. I showered quickly, and when I was finished, I left the water running as I got dressed.
In the mirror, I stared at my wide gray eyes, my frightened features, and wet hair. For a moment, I hesitated.
If I asked Kylo to brush my hair again, he would. If I walked back outside, he’d feed me, he’d ask me more about my magick, my thoughts, my dreams.
But he wouldn’t back down from putting Idris and Mena in danger. He would reel me in with these beautiful gestures and filthy, depraved acts of violence and pleasure. Before I knew it, I would have sacrificed my only living family just to be his pretty, pliable mortal doll.
My features went from frightened to resolute. I remembered the weight of a body in my arms as I ran. I saw a vision of Idris, laughing and carefree—how I wanted him to be forever.
I pushed open the bathroom window, and I leaped.
From there, I pressed myself against the wall. My heart pounded in my chest, my magick roaring to life. Not the poisonous, dangerous magick—but the power that was safe, that I was familiar with and used in my spells. When I made it to my crafting room’s window, I whispered a chant. I called to the spirits of the space, and from my fingers a spark of intent rung through the air.
The window opened from the inside and swung outward. Kylo was a couple rooms away, but I knew he also had vampiric hearing. I was deathly careful when I swung over the windowsill and touched the floor, hoping he was more focused on the sound of the shower running in the bathroom.
I tiptoed around the space and quickly found the book on Hekate I’d swiped from the library, a notebook, and a few other materials to place in my bag.
My final and most impactful move was to uncork the potion I’d created a couple days ago—the one that temporarily altered the scent of my blood. It had taken quite a bit of power and required an unusually strange and rare collection of ingredients.
I thanked the spirits for their aid and spoke a quick prayer before exiting the window again.
Once I was on solid ground, I snuck around the side of the cottage opposite of the kitchen, and I ran.
Running was cathartic. It made me feel in control.
Ever since Kylo had entered my life, I’d felt more powerless than I had in over a decade.
Now, it was as if I was taking back everything he’d attempted to steal. My freedom, my choices, my privacy.
I hated how much I loved his stalking, his dangerous games, the effect he had on my traitorous body.
That obsession only made me want to be in control again—of my lust, my destiny, my heart.
So I ran until my lungs ached. I reached the edges of the residential neighborhood, where a patch of forest stood. It wasn’t an extremely popular location, mostly where wealthy mortal housewives went for the occasional walk, perhaps with their much-younger lovers.
As a witch, forests granted me equal parts peace and intrigue. They were full of spiritual energy, both light and dark—much different from the web of etheric matter in gardens or man-made spaces. More wild and untamed.
Slightly frightening.
I, too, was slightly frightening today. It was a perfect match of energy.
As I passed under the tall trees, listening to the curious calls of crows and other creatures, I felt raw power tickle my skin.
When I found the perfect spot, I threw my quilt down on the earth, leaned back against a welcoming, wise pine tree, and sighed in relief.
The Hekate guidebook buzzed, flooding me with warmth when I cracked her open—as if welcoming me home. The first page I opened to was on protecting mortals from vampires.
How fitting.
I settled in, scanning this witch’s tips, spells, and insights. My reactions were vastly different from the first time I’d read her scrawling words. I was more open, less judgmental. It was strange how quickly things had changed.
The truth was, Kylo was right, no matter how hard it was to admit. I knew it wasn’t his fault my magick was under attack, that witches were winding up missing or dead.
I knew who was to blame. It didn’t make any of it any easier. I’d been running for so long, creating a world for myself where everything was in order, everything dark and violent was shunned and avoided at all costs. My beliefs may have been faulty, but they’d also kept me safe.
And they were burrowed deep.
The way Kylo was pulling them out at the root, one by one, and forcing me to confront all of my wounds, everything hidden and repressed—gods above, I hated it.
It was agonizing. I was growing and stretching and doubting and running and yearning, and it fucking hurt.
Yet there was this tiny, faint something that kept me from sliding backward, kept me reading this dangerous, forbidden book as crows circled overhead in greater numbers. That kept me jotting down notes, that kept me plotting and scheming.
I didn’t know what to call it—this spark, this whisper—this low hum that rattled through my bones.
A crow descended, landing a few feet away.
Fate.
We stared at each other for a beat. A snake slithered behind the crow, with onyx skin that sent a chill down my spine.
I gazed deeper, noting the aura of white and purple extending from both animals as they remained a respectful distance away.
The colors of wisdom and clarity. The chill down my spine transformed into heat, an undeniable surge of power.
Strong gusts of wind roared through the forest, shaking the leaves and pine and whipping my hair back.
“Hekate,” I whispered.
My eyes rolled back.
In my vision, I saw myself in a garden of golden and midnight purple flowers. A woman in a cloak made from the same dark purple hue approached my body. I watched in my spirit form from several yards away.
I read a comforting, grandmotherly aura from the woman’s presence—one that meant me no harm—even as the darkness of her attire and magick reminded me of everything I ran from, everything I denied.
She beckoned me forward. I couldn’t see her face behind her cloak, as if it were obscured by shadow, the same shadows that hid the Masked Order.
We stood over my body, staring at that spindly, ugly dark gray mass at my throat center. Its tendrils were tangled around my heart, blocking all major sources of power in my etheric field.
“Remove it,” she said gently, her voice melodic and otherworldly. Like it was many voices in one.
“You know I can’t,” I said.
My physical body shifted, taking on the appearance of a thirteen-year-old girl in all black.
I gasped, shutting my eyes.
“ Can’t is a dishonest word,” the woman—the deity—said.
Hekate was presenting herself to me, officially.
“You won’t remove that sickness from your throat the same as you wouldn’t accept my call,” she said.
Dread pooled in my stomach as I stared into the darkness under her hood. For a moment, I saw my mother’s cold, soulless eyes, heard the disappointment on her cruel tongue.
I tensed, and the mass in the throat of the younger version of myself radiated a thin veil of darkness. I’d activated its pain.
“I’m not angry, Evie,” Hekate said, her tone neither warm nor cold, merely matter-of-fact. “I’m not disappointed. I knew who you were when I chose you. Where you came from and where you are headed.”
I opened my mouth to politely decline, before she’d even told me what she desired. I opened my mouth to deny her, but nothing came out.
Because I was back to looking at the child with a deep, lonely sadness burrowed in her soul.
“Your brother needed you,” Hekate affirmed. “But so did she. And she needs you still.”
“It’s too late for her,” I whispered. “She doesn’t exist anymore.”
“False,” Hekate said. “Come to me when you’re ready to stop running. I don’t make demands of witches I work with. I give as much as I take.” She pointed a slender finger at my younger self’s throat, at that intrusive, ugly mass. “That’s the freedom you were searching for. Safety is within; there are no shortcuts.”
Hekate’s hood flew off. The world spun. I opened my eyes.
Back in the forest, three born vampires watched me with hungry eyes and cruel smirks. Rain drizzled. All I could focus on were three sets of sharp, deadly, elongated canines.