Chapter 16 August
August
“What about this one?” Winnie spun a short-bladed sword in her palm, dancing it through the air like she was testing its hunger. The silver gleamed under the low candlelight, whistling faintly each time she slashed it through an invisible opponent.
I didn’t look up. My eyes burned from hours of reading, flipping through yet another leather-bound tome Benedict had hauled out from whatever cursed part of the castle he’d scoured. “That’s the fifth one you’ve asked about. I still do not know.”
She let out a breath through her teeth, frustrated. “We could just destroy them all.”
I finally glanced up. She was so at ease with the sword, her grip confident and playful, but beneath that was calculation. She didn’t mind breaking things.
We were able to sneak to the higher floors of the castle without anyone stopping us.
It was one of the only perks that no one other than my siblings could harass me until the sun was no longer in the sky.
And considering Benedict was the only one not completely afraid of my wife, nosy Lavina and her sidekick were nowhere in sight when we returned.
We changed and went straight to the archives to work.
I watched Winnie longer than I meant to. Her fingers curved around the hilt like it belonged to her, like she was born with it in her hand. The way she moved—it was elegant, almost seductive in its ease, but there was always that edge. A willingness to cut. To hurt. And gods, it drew me in.
There was a line along her collarbone, a faint scar I had memorized long ago, one of many that I could trace in my mind even with my eyes closed. It vanished beneath the fabric of her dress with every tilt of her body, teasing me, even though I already knew exactly where it ended.
It reminded me of how breakable she looked. And how little that meant.
She pivoted, the hem of her gown brushing her ankles, and something inside me twisted.
I hated her in that moment. Hated how she could stand there with fire in her blood and a smirk on her lips and not flinch while surrounded by monsters.
Hated how much I wanted to sink my teeth into her throat just to see if she’d shiver or smile.
The paper in my hands tore.
I blinked down at it, confused to find my fists clenched tight around the fragile edge of the tome. The page had split, an ugly gash through words I hadn’t even read.
I let out a slow breath and forced my grip to loosen. Tried to collect the chaos inside me, to seal it back behind the mask I’d spent centuries perfecting. But it was hard when I let it slip away so easily for her.
“Well?”
I looked back up to see her waving the sword in her hand.
“Carrow wouldn’t leave the object that can bring him back just lying around,” I said, trying to bring myself back to the task at hand. “Besides, destroying ancient witch-crafted artifacts? You could unleash a soul, rot someone from the inside, or worse—curse me.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You’re deflecting.”
“I’m surviving. There’s a difference.”
Winnie stared at me for a beat, then turned and placed the sword back on the wall. “So what’s your brilliant plan?”
“We keep searching,” I said, glancing at the rows of objects. “And hope we find it before the Blood Moon.”
She trailed a hand along a row of blades, fingers whispering over their hilts like she was listening for one to call to her. There was a hunger in her gaze that startled me. “Have you read anything important yet?”
I caught myself watching her too long. “The Gerotian Sword.” I think I said it too quickly.
She turned, eyebrows raised. “The what?”
Yeah, I had said it too quickly.
“The Gerotian Sword,” I repeated, slower this time.
She glided over to me and bent over my shoulder, her hair spilling across my cheek, brushing against my skin.
Her blood hit me like a punch to the gut.
My throat burned, my fangs ached behind my lips, and I had to grip the edge of the table to stop myself from pulling her into my lap.
I hadn’t fed in days other than sips from goblets, but that animal blood did nothing to curb my appetite.
Not when she was this close. Not when every breath she took stirred the air between us like bait.
I had been able to manage until we went to town. Being surrounded by so many humans had stirred something feral inside me, clawing its way up from the depths. A beast that only ever wanted her.
I stood quickly, faster than I intended to. “It was forged by the leader of a coven on a small island west of here. He spelled it to seek out vampires—to make the hunt easier.”
Benedict grunted from the shadows. First sound from him in hours. He watched her with something between awe and fear. Not like the others did, drawn by her scent. He watched her hands. The way they moved. How gracefully she moved with a sword. And yet her bare hands were far more dangerous.
“Carrow heard of it and slaughtered the entire coven to claim it,” Benedict said. “It’s on the far end of that shelf. That was when he still wore our grandfather’s body.”
Winnie followed Benedict’s direction before stepping onto her toes to reach the blade. I clenched my jaw, resisting the pull to help her.
She’d spent the last hour drifting from artifact to artifact, touching each one like she owned them. Benedict winced every time. He’d spent decades preserving this room like a sacred tomb, and now a young, temperamental witch treated it like a market stall.
Winnie studied the sword in her hand, turning it slowly, watching how the runes shimmered beneath her fingers. She pointed it away from us at first, thoughtful. Then, without a word, she turned it toward Benedict.
The engravings glowed, pulsing like they recognized the blood in his veins.
She smiled. “I could’ve used this hunting.”
Hunting. My vision swam.
The humid night air had clung to her skin, and when she lowered her hood, I remembered how my body reacted.
The moment I caught her scent—sharp, maddening, unlike anything I’d known—I had moved without thinking, standing before her in a blink.
She didn’t cower. She lifted her chin and met my gaze like she was the threat, not me.
When I brushed her hair back, exposing her neck, I thought she would run. She didn’t. I inhaled, trying to place what she was. Human, yes. But there was something ancient in her blood. Something wild.
I bit her.
Her blood hit my tongue like lightning. The world narrowed to just that taste, that moment.
But then the pain came, the tearing sensation when she pulled the magic from me, her hand around my throat like a vice.
It gutted me. And gods help me, I loved it.
She stood looking down at me, victory carved across her face like a crown she thought she’d earned.
Then it shifted. Her arms wrapped around me, kissing me like it was the last time she would.
That was the night she tricked me. The night she kissed me to steal from me again.
I remembered the feel of her lips on mine, the way she pulled me closer like she needed me, like this was something real.
I let myself believe it. I carried her to my bed.
I touched her like she was something sacred.
I moved inside her slowly, memorizing every sound she made, every tremble of her breath. I thought I was giving her something. I thought we were sharing something.
Then she pulled the magic from me again.
Her hands in my hair as she ripped the power from me. I saw the tears in her eyes like it hurt her. She took my strength and my trust and yet she looked upset.
I looked at her now and all I felt was rage.
Not just rage—something worse. Something festering. Something alive. It curled inside my ribcage like a living thing, slithering up my spine and coiling tight around my thoughts until they weren’t thoughts at all, just noise. White, buzzing, blistering noise.
How dare she stand there, radiant and unbothered, when I was the ruin she made? How dare she look at me with those eyes—green and glinting and full of secrets—and act like she didn’t know exactly what she did to me? Like she didn’t carve her name into every breath I took?
I wanted to rip the memory of her from my mind. I wanted to strip the want from my bones. But she was in everything. In the way the candlelight moved. In the smell of dust and blood. In the throb behind my eyes.
My jaw ached. I didn’t know when I started grinding my teeth.
I hated her. Gods, I hated her. And I wanted her more than I had ever wanted anything in my life.
I blinked hard and forced myself back to the table, lowering into my chair with a stiffness I hadn’t noticed settling into my limbs.
I grabbed another tome at random, anything to distract myself.
But the letters swam before my eyes. The words twisted, refused to make sense.
I reread the same paragraph three times before realizing I hadn’t retained a single line.
Her scent still clung to the air. Her voice echoed in my skull. Hunger was eroding every thought that wasn’t her.
I rubbed at my temple, frustrated, furious with myself. I couldn’t afford this. Not now. Not when every second mattered.
* * *
We dined alone that evening.
The dining hall, usually filled with sharp-tongued siblings and sharper glances, sat eerily quiet. Lavina had kept her distance since Winnie nearly set her aflame with a single thought.
Halston was nowhere to be found, which I found to be odd considering he always waited for us at dinner as if he was hoping we would compliment how well he put it together. It was always exquisite, but I’d never tell him that.
Winnie ate like she hadn’t been fed in weeks—savoring every bite like it might be her last. I couldn’t look away from the way her lips curved around a spoon of honey-glazed figs or the smug glint in her eyes when she caught me staring.
She didn’t care that she was the only witch in a vampire castle. She owned it.
It made my hunger worse.