Chapter 2
Callie
Drifting on the edge of wakefulness, I snuggle back against Nolan’s chest, finding peace in his warm, even breaths against the back of my neck. Despite being under the blankets and spooned together, Nolan’s bare skin is cold—too cold. Imagining the sensation of warm sunlight against my skin on a hot summer day, I push out some of my magic and wrap it around him like an invisible cloak. He sighs happily, relaxing into the artificial warmth, and flexes his arm around my waist.
“Well, cousin, you are full of surprises,” says an unfamiliar male voice.
An equally unfamiliar female voice giggles.
My eyes pop open. Lounging close together against the banister that lines one side of Nolan’s loft bedroom are two individuals with fair skin and platinum blond hair. They are dressed in a casual elegance that can only come from wealth, and both look like they are barely college age. They also look incredibly similar to the boy who is currently glued to my back.
“Nolan,” I hiss, elbowing him in the ribs.
He grunts and adjusts himself so that his arms now wrap over mine, pinning them to my sides, and throws one leg over my hip for good measure. Sleepily, he presses a light kiss to my neck and mumbles, “A few more minutes.”
“No, now,” I squeak, getting ready to hyperventilate because I’m in nothing but my underwear and one of Nolan’s band shirts, and two of his extended family members are standing right there. “You have guests.”
“Tell them to go away,” he grumbles. The boy really isn’t a morning person.
Nolan’s male cousin smiles, amusement sparkling in his violet blue eyes. Oh yeah, they are definitely related.
The female cousin hops up and sits on the banister with perfect grace and balance, her pleated skirt resting just below her knees. Lightly swinging her legs back and forth, she shakes her head, her straight, waist -length hair swishing with the movement. “I highly recommend getting out of bed and getting dressed, dear cousin. Grandmother Dalia wants to see you, and trust me, you don’t want her coming up here and catching you with a girl in your bed.”
“She does frown upon disregarding protocol,” the male cousin comments with a chuckle and then crosses his arms over his broad chest. “And the last thing you want is a dressing down from Grandmother. She’s… precise in her criticisms.”
“Your grandmother sounds… charming,” I croak out with a pained smile while kicking Nolan’s shin with my heel. For the love of the goddess, wake the hell up!
“Ow! What?” Nolan demands, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He’s still shirtless, and the blankets cover the fact he’s wearing sweatpants underneath.
My cheeks burn under the entertained scrutiny of Nolan’s cousins. “Like I said, you have guests.”
Nolan squints at them. “Who the hell are you?”
“I’m Kaven,” the male cousin says, pointing at himself, “and this is my sister, Ellessa,” he gestures to the girl on the banister, and she waves. “We’re your aunt Violet’s children.”
“Well, we’re some of them,” Ellessa supplies distractedly, running her fingers through her brother’s hair. “Rose, Scarlet, Lovely, and Antony are all still at Rykeworth until the summer holiday.”
“You have a sibling named Lovely?” The question trails off as I watch Kaven lean into his sister’s touch, a pleased smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. They are… close.
Ellessa sighs, as if life is a cruel game. “Yes, and she lives up to her name. She’s like a perfect little doll who charms everyone she meets.” One of her hands tightens on the banister, while the other slides out of her brother’s hair and grips his muscular shoulder. “She’s everyone’s favorite.”
“Not everyone’s,” Kaven soothes, resting his hand on top of hers and giving it a light squeeze.
She gives him an indulgent smile, hops off the banister, and pecks him on the cheek. “I have to be your favorite,” she teases lightly. “I’m your twin. It’s a requirement.”
“Twins. Cool,” I chirp, my voice sounding overly bright to hide how incredibly awkward I feel.
“Twins and half-siblings,” Kaven clarifies, sounding oddly proud for essentially announcing that they were conceived via three-way—not that I have any room to judge.
My cheeks burn as my thoughts drift to that night with Nolan and Donovan. As I told Nolan, I don’t regret doing it, but it feels like I leaped into the deep end unprepared. Now, I’m furiously paddling back to shallow waters where it’s safe and I know what I’m doing. Well, as much as I ever know what I’m doing.
“Cousins,” Nolan drawls, looking at them like he dodged a bullet when his parents were exiled. “As exciting as it is to meet you, you’ve done your job. I’m awake. Now get the hell out of my room.”
“Grandmother said we were to escort you downstairs,” Ellessa states, crossing her arms. She juts out her chin stubbornly while her steel blue eyes narrow.
“I don’t give a shit,” Nolan snaps, leaning over me as if to protect me from his cousins’ prying gazes. “I don’t know you, and there’s no fucking way I’m letting you see my girlfriend half naked. Leave!”
I know it’s silly, but my heart flutters when he calls me his girlfriend. Technically, he’s called me that before, but we were pretending then to keep the hounding masses of Twin Cedar Pass High School at bay. Now, it’s real.
Ellessa looks scandalized, reaching for her neck as if to truly clutch invisible pearls. In a harsh whisper, she states, “You’re in a relationship with your food.”
“The fuck did you just call her?” Nolan growls, about ready to climb over me to throttle his newly discovered relative.
“How about we wait outside for you?” Kaven chimes in, bracing his hands on his sister’s shoulders to turn her toward the stairs. Before Nolan or I can answer, he steers her downstairs and out the door, hissing for her to be quiet when she mutters that Nolan might as well call a sandwich his lover.
Already looking drained, Nolan collapses on top of me and sighs, resting his head on my chest. I gently rub his back, my fingers drifting up and down his spine. He shivers and releases another sigh, this one sounding more at ease.
Kneading a knot at the juncture between his neck and shoulder, I murmur, “So that happened.”
Nolan makes a noncommittal grunting noise, his body growing heavy as he relaxes under my touch. He wraps his arms around me like I’m a giant body pillow he plans to snuggle as he starts drifting toward sleep.
I poke his shoulder. “No going back to sleep. I really don’t want to meet the rest of your family like this because you can’t get out of bed.”
His hand blindly pats for his cell phone on the bedside table. Once retrieved, he squints at the brightly lit screen and scowls. “It’s seven in the morning on a Saturday. Why the fuck is anyone here this early?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you ask your grandmother when you meet her?” I suggest, trying to wiggle free, causing the soft T-shirt I’m wearing to hike up my stomach.
“Mmm,” he purrs, sliding down my body to place gentle, featherlight kisses against my bare stomach. “This is a much better way to spend my morning.”
“Oh, no you don’t,” I warn, digging my fingers into his hair as a war builds within me. His touch makes all of my nerve endings tingle, and the smooth sound of his voice causes a hot, molten feeling to stir low in my belly. However, my brain is shrieking about how mortifying it would be to be caught like this, and so far, I still haven’t found any evidence of the mole people to escape to. “Your grandmother is here to help you get better, remember? Also, I want your family to like me.”
He sighs while looking up at me, resting his chin on my belly. “My parents already like you, and if the Lannister twins are any indication of the rest of my extended family, I’m not sure I give a shit what they think.”
I try to use Connor’s trick of silence to get people to do what he wants by giving Nolan one of my no-nonsense stares. He attempts to fight the stare with one of his own, but I win with pure stubbornness.
Nolan groans as he climbs out of bed. His sweats ride low, showcasing the birthmark on his hip, and his hair somehow looks sexily mussed as he makes his way to his walk-in closet. He’s lost weight, his skin appearing taut over raw muscle, and it makes him resemble some fae creature from the deep wilds, both willowy and strong.
“I can feel you undressing me with your eyes,” he teases, glancing at me over his shoulder. “You’re welcome to join me in here and see it for real.”
“Rain check,” I reply, attempting to sound breezy and unaffected, while I get out of bed to retrieve a change of clothes from my backpack that lies abandoned near the top of the stairs.
He doesn’t respond. I look over at him to find him leaning against the closet’s entry, his arms crossed over his chest and his gaze stuck on my bare legs.
“What?” I chirp, self-consciously rubbing the top of my left foot along the back of my right calf.
Shaking his head, he offers me a sweet smile. “You’re beautiful. Sometimes it’s hard to keep my eyes off you.”
I smile shyly back while tucking my hair behind my ears. It’s these moments when he’s earnest in his compliments that truly make me feel undone.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
As if my body has a mind of its own, I walk to him, my bare feet silent on the carpeted floor. He stands up straight as I approach, opening his arms to wrap around me when I reach up to hold his face between my hands. As I pull his face down to mine, my heart dances in fluttery beats as I press my lips to his. With a slow, lingering kiss, I show him all that I feel for him—all the joy and love he inspires within me—and how grateful I am that he’s now mine.
When the kiss ends, he leans into me, appearing a little dazed. “Remind me to compliment you more often.”
I grin. “Now go get dressed.”
“Beautiful and cruel,” he murmurs with humor and then releases me to go make himself presentable for his mysterious grandmother.
∞∞∞
The twins silently escort us to the sitting room where the rest of Nolan’s family waits, straightening hair and clothes that were already immaculate. I start mimicking the gestures, wishing I had something nicer to wear than jeans, a T-shirt, and my favorite red hoodie. When I touch my hair for the third time, Nolan steals my hand and laces our fingers together.
He looks tired, his shoulders sagging and eyes drooping with purple smudges underneath. His outfit choice of well-worn jeans and a thick, gray hoodie heightens his overall aura of weariness. I can’t tell if it’s from illness or because he’s awake before noon, but his hands are cold. Harnessing trickles of my magic into our clasped hands, I will it to travel up his arm and over his body, replacing the cloak of heat from earlier with one that more tightly skims his body. He gives me a twitch of a smile.
As we approach the familiar sitting room where Nolan first told his parents about the curse, I overhear Nolan’s mother, Lillian, state with a voice infused with strained patience, “I would have preferred for you to leave your thralls at home. We have more than enough blood to sustain you all, and we have human servants who work in this household who are ignorant of our ways. You’re not in Prima anymore.”
“Drink cold bagged blood? You must be joking,” a cutting, feminine voice replies with disdain. “The blood is weak, and the anticoagulant citrate has a horrid aftertaste. I’d rather drink fresh animal blood than that swill.”
“That could be arranged,” Nolan’s father, Robert, drawls with barely hidden frustration.
“What did you say, you poltroon viper?” the cold, feminine voice seethes. “I’ll have you know my Lillian was a proper lady who knew her duties until she met you. What a waste of potential. She could have been—”
“I promise we’ll be discreet,” another feminine voice, this one soft and breathy, interrupts gently. “We take Martin and Maria with us for all our travels. They know how to blend in.”
With the entrance to the room in sight, Ellessa smooths out her skirt and twists her hair over one shoulder. Whispering under her breath, she advises, “Grandmother appears to be upset. I suggest you speak only when spoken to, keep your answers concise—she hates when people ramble—and perhaps try not to draw attention to your… girlfriend.”
“Should I leave?” I ask, wanting to support Nolan but also not wanting to make his first visit with his extended family difficult.
“It might be best if—” Kaven starts but is immediately cut off by Nolan.
“I want you here,” he states bluntly, giving my hand a tight squeeze. “If they have a problem with you, then they can leave.”
“But your grandmother is here to help you, and I don’t want to be…” I argue, starting to pull away.
“Don’t just hover at the door, children. Come in,” the harsh voice of their grandmother intones, eliminating my chance for a graceful escape.
The twins square their shoulders, holding their chins at a slightly upward angle, and plaster a neutral expression across their faces before entering. Nolan strolls in after with an iron grip on my hand, ready to drag me into the room if I try to flee.
Gray light trickles in through the large wall of windows that look out onto the back side of the vast Campbell property. My gaze drifts to the window just right of center. It looks like the others now, but I’ll never forget when it had fissures with a fist-sized epicenter from when Nolan’s dad punched it in a devastated rage. Like father like son, I suppose. Nolan has taken out a few windows and mirrors in the same fashion, the intense emotions unable to be held within. I can’t say I blame either of them.
Sitting closest to the windows in a long chaise is a blonde woman with deep indigo eyes, and she smiles softly as we enter. She resembles Nolan’s mom, except where Lillian is tall and willowy, this woman is all generous curves showcased by a flowing dress the same color as her eyes. She is bookended by two men—one with auburn hair the shade of molten fire and coffee-colored eyes, and the other fair, with honey-blond hair and steel blue eyes. Both touch the woman in the middle as if they can’t help themselves, stroking her silken, platinum blonde hair, absently playing with her fingers, and touching her knee. There is an undeniable connection between the three of them. The twins immediately beeline toward them.
Nolan’s parents are sitting as a unit on the large brown couch that’s positioned diagonally from the chaise, Robert’s arm wrapped around his wife’s shoulders. When he notices me, he flashes me a comforting smile that turns concerned when his eyes drift to Nolan, who’s clutching my hand so tightly that the tips of my fingers are starting to tingle. Lillian’s gaze runs over her son, examining each inch of his illness-induced weariness, and her bottom lip quivers. There’s no way around it, the past month has been hard on Nolan, the curse wreaking havoc on every part of him.
A wiry woman with shrewd, ice-blue eyes, who I assume to be Nolan’s grandmother, Dalia, walks briskly toward us and grabs Nolan by the shoulders. “Come this way so I can have a look at you,” she orders as her greeting, pulling him closer to the window. When she notices Nolan still has a death grip on my hand, her eyes narrow as they zero in on the bruised mark on my neck that I forgot to heal. “Your thrall can stand over there with the others.”
I look behind me where she indicated. Standing quietly next to the entryway are a middle-aged man and woman. When their attention shifts to me, their expressions go from neutral to kind smiles, their eyes turning soft and inviting. They are dressed head to toe in black, with only their hands and heads exposed. They seem content, but I’m unsure if it’s the constant stream of venom in their veins making them complacent or if they genuinely enjoy their positions as thralls for Nolan’s extended family.
Unnerved by the concept altogether, I return my attention to Nolan’s grandmother and catch her harsh expression aimed at her daughter, clearly offended by what she perceives as a double standard.
“Mother, he’s sick and can only keep her blood down,” Nolan’s mother replies with an irritated sigh.
“What makes her blood so special?” she asks like I’m a family pet who can’t answer for itself.
“I’m a witch,” I interject as politely as one can through gritted teeth before anyone can explain for me.
“Fascinating, I’ve never heard of someone taking a witch as a thrall,” the woman on the chaise, who I assume to be Nolan’s aunt, comments.
“There was a rumor that the Ericson’s youngest managed to woo a witch into a weekend dalliance,” the fair man on her left muses. “She was young and barely more than human, but there was discussion on how the witch’s magic did add a little something to the experience of feeding.”
“How wonderfully taboo.” She giggles, a delicate yet sensuous sound, while placing a hand over her generous cleavage. “I’m impressed, nephew.”
“She’s not a thrall,” Nolan’s dad cuts in, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “As Lillian already stated, we don’t keep thralls, let alone a witch while living within the center of the local coven’s territory. We’re not insane.”
Dalia looks at him with a raised, fine white brow, all of her body language shouting that he doesn’t want to hear her thoughts on his sanity.
“She’s my girlfriend,” Nolan snaps, ripping himself from his grandmother’s boney fingers and stepping back while tugging me behind him. “Stop talking about her like she’s food.”
The twins, who are clustered near their parents, release quiet groans and look at Nolan with pity. It’s somewhat endearing. They may not consider me more than a walking blood bag, but it appears they have some genuine empathy for their cousin.
Nolan’s grandmother grows very still, her shrewd eyes running along my unassuming form. I can feel her picking me apart and finding me wanting. Her gaze then shifts to Nolan, an expression of strained patience taking over her features. Speaking like she’s talking to a toddler, she explains, “Grandson, this isn’t your fault. You’re young and clearly haven’t been trained in proper etiquette” —she shoots a scathing look at Nolan’s parents— “and it’s left you confused. It’s… admirable that you take such good care of your thrall, but it’s unhealthy to develop a romantic attachment to your food.”
“She’s not food,” he grinds out, his stance rigid with growing rage. “Callie offering her blood to me is a gift. She does it because she l-loves me.” He trips over the word as if it still surprises him that I have genuine feelings for him. “If you can’t respect that, leave. I don’t want your help.”
Gasps ripple through the room, shocked by Nolan challenging the family matriarch. Silent tears drip down Lillian’s face, clearly both proud and scared in equal measures. Robert squeezes his wife’s hand like it’s the only lifeline holding him steady. His aunt, uncles, and cousins sit in pregnant silence, riveted in a way one is when watching a train wreck happen in real time.
“Nolan, it’s okay. I can…” I whisper, unsure how exactly to finish that sentence, because his declaration fills me with both joy and sorrow. Damning the consequences for my sake is very noble, but I will gladly take some verbal jabs to save his life.
“No, it’s not okay,” he replies firmly, his gaze never leaving his grandmother’s face.
Dalia’s lips pinch as if she bit into something sour, but there’s something in her gaze when she shifts her attention from her grandson to me, everything that I am transforming into something new and curious. “You would die for this… witch’s honor?”
“Yes,” Nolan answers without faltering, his body beginning to shake under his rigid posture.
The mere idea breaks my heart, the organ skipping a beat due to the sharp pain stabbing through it. I would do and suffer anything to save his life, and he would give everything to honor mine. Again, I’m divided. Part of me wants to kiss him, and the other part of me wants to smack him for being so brazenly careless with his life. His grandmother being a bitch to me is small in the grand scheme of things.
“Very well,” she concedes with a flick of her wrist as if she’s grown tired of this conversation. “If she means that much to you, grandson, I’ll refer to the witch however you like.”
“Her name is Callie,” he corrects with a hard edge in his usually sensual voice.
His grandmother dips her chin in my direction. “My apologies, Callie.”
“Apology accepted,” I reply quickly, my voice loud within the shocked silence.
Dalia glares around the room, the sour expression returning to her face. “Don’t act so surprised. I’m not unreasonable, and I’m certainly not going to refuse my services over whom he’s romantically involved. By the queen, how petty do you think I am?”
“Very,” Robert mutters under his breath, which earns a light elbow jab from Lillian.
“We… We… We would never think such a thing about you, Mother,” Nolan’s aunt stutters like she’s having trouble getting air in her lungs under the scrutiny of Dalia’s piercing gaze. “It’s just… well, we know how important protocol—”
“Violet, stop faffing and get to the point,” Nolan’s grandmother interrupts, annoyance evident in the way she crosses her arms over her chest and taps her foot.
“Never mind,” she murmurs, shrinking into herself. Her partners lean into her, each pressing a kiss to her cheek. The twins touch their mother’s shoulders in silent solidarity.
“The question was rhetorical anyway.” The elder woman sighs, not quite rolling her eyes but definitely looking exasperated. She pinches the bridge of her nose before turning her attention back to Nolan. “Let’s not waste any more time, shall we? Come over to the light so I can see you better.” She walks farther into the room near the window without a second glance.
Nolan follows, dragging me along since he refuses to let go of me. I give his hand a gentle squeeze, reassuring him that I’m not going anywhere.
Once we’re standing in front of her, she immediately starts touching his face, shifting his head up and to either side. He flinches, leading me to assume her hands are cold.
“You are so much like your mother,” she states ruefully as her touch drifts down his neck in a clinical manner, massaging his throat gently. “When it comes to matters of the heart, she is just as bold and stubborn. Did you know she had the pick of males to start a nest of her own, but refused them all to be committed solely to your father—who, I might add, was favored to be one of the queen’s consorts?”
“Best decision I ever made,” Nolan’s mother declares sweetly, resting her head on her husband’s shoulder.
“Me too,” Robert whispers into her hair, love overtaking his features.
“Oh yes, earning the ire of the queen was a brilliant idea,” Dalia scoffs as she pulls a penlight from her dress slacks to check the dilation of Nolan’s pupils. “I still don’t understand why taking Robert meant you couldn’t have a proper nest of mates.”
“Because it wouldn’t be fair to them.” Lillian sighs as if she’s said this numerous times. “My heart belongs only to Robert.”
“I don’t know why that matters,” Nolan’s grandmother retorts dismissively, glancing at her apparently troublesome child. “And how do you know? You never bothered to give any of the others a chance.”
Seemingly recovered, Nolan’s aunt smiles at the two men on either side of her. “I can’t imagine being with just one person my whole life.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks as the sentiment rings true within me. I love all the guys, and it pains me to imagine my life without a single one of them. It, however, does make me wonder what our families will think. Will they understand us or want to rip us apart?
“Oh, we’re romantically monogamous, but we do have other sexual partners we share,” Lillian clarifies, and Violet nods sagely like their relationship now makes sense to her.
“I could have lived my entire life without knowing that,” Nolan grumbles, finally able to put in some type of comment.
Despite being the one who started this line of conversation, Nolan’s grandmother harshly shushes everyone so she can check Nolan’s heart rate. Pressing her fingers to the inside of his wrist, she holds up her arm and counts while fifteen seconds tick by on the delicate watch she’s wearing. He offers me a tired smile. I hold his free hand between my own, anxiously playing with his fingers.
Dalia’s brows pull together when she finishes and asks, “Tell me about your symptoms.”
Nolan’s eyes drift to his parents, his expression turning grim like it physically pains him to have his parents know how bad it is. He spent years covering it up, protecting them in his own way, but to get better, he can’t hide anymore.
“Um, I’m tired a lot,” he starts, clearing his throat. “Mood swings, headaches, chills, and…” He looks at me, his arctic blue eyes tinged with shame. “No matter how much I feed or how frequently, I’m always hungry.”
My gaze softens with his confession, and I snuggle into him, wrapping myself around his arm, our hands still clenched together. Softly, I whisper, “It’s going to be okay.”
A tight smile crosses his lips, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
Nolan’s grandmother crosses her arms. One hand lifts toward her face, a couple of fingers resting against her chin as she looks thoughtful for a moment. “You’re also vomiting up blood?”
“Only when I try to feed from anyone besides Callie,” Nolan replies. His cheeks turn pink, embarrassed to admit he’s fed from multiple people in front of his parents.
My face grows hot as I think about how deeply intimate it is to have Nolan feed from me. I don’t blame him for the people who came before me—mostly, I try not to think about it at all—but it does leave me wondering about the thralls again. My gaze shifts to the middle-aged couple near the door.Does Nolan’s extended family do… things with them too? As soon as the thought pops into my head, I squash it down before it can develop into mental images, and then I immediately wish I could pour bleach all over my brain. A shudder ripples through my body. Nolan flashes me a concerned look and squeezes my hand. I offer him a small, nothing is wrong kind of smile that I’m not sure he buys, but I’m certainly not going to ask about that in front of his whole family.
“I’ll need to take blood samples from both of you,” Dalia says, interrupting my uncomfortable spiral of thoughts. “I’m going to have to send them out, and who knows how long that will take. This would have been so much easier in Prima.”
“Mother, this is his home, and Callie is his only source of blood which she offers out of love and kindness,” Lillian states firmly, and then she gives me a grateful smile before continuing, steel infused within every word. “I’m not going to uproot their lives just to appease you. We have access to everything you need here.” It’s a not so subtle reminder that they own the local hospital.
“My aunt… I mean, nan… er, grandmother, Mildred, could help,” I stutter before Dalia can respond, stumbling into the tense conversation with my usual grace. Nolan’s grandmother is very intimidating, and when her piercing eyes focus on me, my heart rate reaches hummingbird levels. “She’s the matriarch to the Volkov Coven and has, um, she’s o-offered to put all of our resources into helping Nolan. Also, since Nolan is under some type of spell, it’d probably help to work with a powerful witch like her.” With every word, I crowd Nolan more and more as her eyes bore into me, and I realize mentioning that it’s a witch’s fault he’s in this mess isn’t doing me any favors. In a final squeak, I add, “You’ll also need her permission to get a sample of my blood. She’s my legal guardian.”
The intimidating woman’s eyes narrow, and I’m about to hide behind Nolan when she murmurs, “Who are you?”
“Callie,” I answer, my brain apparently ceasing to function under her scrutiny.
“Very well, Callie.” She emphasizes my name in a way that implies that I’m intentionally being obtuse rather than a blithering idiot. “I think you’re right. I would very much like to speak with the matriarch of the Volkov Coven. Lead the way.”
“Now?” I squeak.
“Is there a reason to wait?” she asks in a way that makes me wish she’d go back to ignoring me.
I shake my head. “I, uh, guess not. Let me call her.”
Nolan’s grandmother gives me a sharp nod like this resolves everything, and while I call to give Mildred a heads-up, she directs everyone to finish settling in. None of them are required to attend this meeting. As the phone rings, I wonder if my house can stand up to the old lady showdown that’s about to happen in my living room.