Chapter 19
Nineteen
IZZY
Islam the book shut with a groan.
I’ve been reading for hours, and it feels as if I’ve barely made a dent in the book. A pulsating ache has erupted behind my eyes, growing and growing with each consecutive second.
So far, I’ve only been able to read about a few supernatural creatures—witches and shifters, the two most obvious ones.
I know, innately, that I won’t find the answers I’m searching for in those sections, but it doesn’t hurt to start from the beginning.
After all, my mother was a powerful witch, and my fathers are shifters.
Or at least, I think they are.
I bite down on my lower lip and stare intently at the book, willing it to divulge all of its secrets.
As if she can sense that I stopped reading—and maybe she can—the door to the room opens, and Soraya steps inside, still dressed in a ratty sweatshirt and faded sweatpants. She makes a beeline to the closet and pulls it open, scouring the contents until she finds what she’s looking for.
“Interesting book, isn’t it?” Her voice is deceptively conversational as she pulls out a skin-tight black dress with a swooping neckline.
“It would be more interesting if you told me what the point of reading it is,” I grumble.
“Whatever do you mean?” She cants her head to the side, causing strands of fiery hair to cascade over one shoulder.
Nothing I say will get her to open up. I don’t know if it’s because she fears retaliation from the witches for helping me or if there’s some other reason. Either way, I know I’m kicking a dead horse.
I clutch the book to my chest and rise from the bed, stretching out my taut muscles. I’ve been sitting still for way too long, and my body has paid the price.
“What time is it?”
“Almost dinner time,” Soraya answers as she replaces the black dress and pulls out a green one.
She purses her lips then returns that one as well.
“It’s been that long?” A knot manifests in my throat.
Ansel has probably been worried sick about me. I should’ve demanded to see him earlier.
“You’ll need to attend dinner,” Soraya tells me as she pulls out a second black dress, this one with a slit up the side and spaghetti straps. “All coven members are required to attend.”
“I’m not a coven member,” I point out with a scoff.
More like a prisoner.
A wave of white-hot anger sweeps through me at the reminder of Delaney’s duplicity. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted the bitch, but I did so anyway.
Though, at the same time, a part of me is grateful for the training. I can still remember the raw, unencumbered power flowing through me, threatening to burn me alive. I don’t ever want to feel that out of control again.
“Here. This will look great on you.” Soraya tosses me the black dress before grabbing a different dress for herself—this one also black.
Without a word, she pulls her sweatshirt over her head and tosses it to the side, not seeming to care that she’s wearing absolutely nothing underneath it.
“Oh my god, Soraya!” I spin around as she moves her hands to the drawstring of her sweatpants.
“You’ve never seen a pair of tits before?” the Maiden drawls, sarcasm heavy in her voice. “I thought shifters were all about casual nudity.”
“I just learned about shifters a few weeks ago, if that,” I snap. “And yes, I’ve seen tits before. Mine. No, I don’t want to see yours.”
“Is it because one of my nipples is larger than the other?” Soraya asks, her voice deadpan, and dammit, I actually crack a smile at that.
Maybe Soraya isn’t as bad as I initially thought. She kind of reminds me of…Desiree.
At the thought of my closest girlfriend, a pang reverberates through me. I miss her.
“Shut up and get dressed,” I say, listening to the shuffle of fabric.
“Done. How do I look?”
I turn to see Soraya studying herself in the mirror, her fiery-red hair cascading in waves down her back, contrasting beautifully against the deep black of her gothic dress.
The dress itself is a work of art—crafted from rich, flowing fabric that hugs her curves before billowing out in dramatic layers.
The bodice is adorned with intricate lace detailing that looks phenomenal against her pale skin.
The neckline dips slightly, revealing a delicate silver pendant nestled against her chest. Her sleeves are loose and slender but end in pointed cuffs.
Around her waist, a black leather belt cinches the dress in, enhancing her silhouette.
She looks like a gothic Barbie doll.
“Damn.” I whistle and then stare at the dress in my own arms. “Is this dinner, like, super fancy or something?”
Soraya snorts and drops herself onto the stool before the mirror, digging through her makeup until she finds ruby-red lipstick. “Every dinner is fancy if you’re the Maiden.”
A note of…something seeps into her tone. Bitterness, perhaps? Before I can comment on it, Soraya waves me towards the connecting bathroom.
“Go get changed. They’re expecting us. And don’t worry—I made sure your little…friend is okay.” Something about the way she said “friend” makes me pause.
And that tender, almost wistful expression on her face? I don’t like it. At all.
Jealousy like I’ve never felt before threatens to plow me over. The emotion takes me by surprise. I can’t help but feel a tight knot in my stomach.
I try to ignore it, try to push the feeling down, but it creeps up on me, gnawing at my thoughts.
“Simmer down, girl.” Soraya laughs, light and airy. “I don’t want you blowing a hole in my room. I don’t have any interest in your man. Trust me. That will never, ever happen. Ew. And he also has a penis, which is a big no-no in my book.”
“Oh… Ohhh.” All at once, my jealousy fizzles and dissipates, and I’m left shocked by the intensity of my emotions.
“Jealousy is completely natural for mated pairs who haven’t completed the bond.” Soraya purses her lips as she begins to apply her lipstick. When she speaks next, her words are slightly garbled. “Once the bond has settled, it’ll be easy sailing, so to speak.”
“Mated pairs?” Heat engulfs my cheeks. “No. Ansel isn’t… I mean, he’s a warlock, and I’m mated to the shifters, and…”
I realize I’m babbling and allow myself to trail off, my face feeling a thousand shades of red.
“Go get changed. We’ll talk in a bit.” Soraya once again waves me towards the bathroom.
After quickly using the facilities, I change into the dress Soraya let me borrow. I’m surprised it fits, considering she’s an entire foot taller than I am and is slightly less curvy.
The dress is a stunning, figure-hugging piece, crafted from a smooth, dark fabric that catches the light in the most subtle way. It feels as if I’m enveloped in the night itself.
It skims my body like liquid, hugging my curves, before trailing into a soft, dramatic sweep at the floor.
The spaghetti straps are delicate, adding a sense of effortless grace to the design, while the neckline is elegantly simple—a slight plunge that draws attention to my collarbones and shoulders.
But it’s the slit up the side that gives the dress its bold edge, rising high along my thigh and revealing just a hint of skin with every step. As I step out of the bathroom, I marvel at the way the dress swishes around my legs with a fluid sensuality. I feel beautiful. Sexy. Dangerous.
Witchy.
I wonder how Ansel will react when he sees me.
Soraya whistles dramatically when she sees me.
“Damn, girl. You look amazing. Do you have your ears pierced? I know just the thing to…” She bites her lip as she searches her vanity for something before finally finding it.
She holds up a pair of silver dangling earrings.
“Ha! Perfect! These will really complete the outfit.”
“Oh, um, thanks.” I hesitantly accept the earrings and then place them in my ears.
Soraya’s right.
The earrings do add an undefinable something to the ensemble, like two stars amongst a sea of darkness.
Abruptly, Soraya curses. “We need to get a move on, or we’re going to be late.”
She bends to grab a backpack—my backpack—off the ground and shoves the heavy book into it. She hands it to me, and I sling it over my shoulder.
“We won’t have time to stop back in your room, so just make sure to keep your backpack near you, okay?
We don’t want anyone seeing what you have in it.
” She begins to usher me towards the door of her room.
“Also, don’t be concerned if you get a lot of strange or suspicious looks.
What you did earlier today…” She shakes her head in a mix of wonderment and awe.
“Most witches and warlocks have never seen such a display of power before. They’re going to be wary of you. Just don’t let it get to you, okay?”
“Why are you helping me?” I ask, digging my feet into the carpeting as she tries to tug me out of her room.
I didn’t mean to ask that question, but once I do, I find that I don’t want to take it back. I can’t.
Every witch and warlock I’ve met so far—excluding Ansel, for obvious reasons—has wanted something from me. My power. My obedience. My loyalty. I can’t help but wonder what Soraya’s ulterior motives are. Surely she isn’t doing this out of the goodness of her heart.
So what’s her angle?
She pauses with her back to me, tension visible in her neck and shoulders.
I wait with bated breath for her to answer, for her to give me one single fucking truth, but she doesn’t.
She simply says, “We’re going to be late,” and hurries down the hall, her heels clacking against the floor.
I have no choice but to follow her, wondering what, exactly, she’s keeping from me.
And why.