Chapter 2 - Grayson #2
The announcer stepped aside, gesturing grandly to the stage’s center. “Now, ladies and gentlemen, we all know the rules. Before our buyer claims his prize, the bond must be sealed.”
Grayson stilled. “The what?”
The announcer turned to him. “Ah, of course. You must be new to our little traditions. Allow me to introduce myself—Theodore Voss, at your service.” He extended a hand with exaggerated flair, clearly enjoying the spectacle.
Grayson didn’t move to take it. “And this bond?”
Voss let his hand drop, unbothered by the lack of reciprocation. “A formality, really,” he said, waving a hand like it was nothing. “But an important one. A purchase like this carries…expectations. The bond ensures she’s loyal. Trust me, you’ll thank me later.”
Grayson worked his jaw, but he didn’t respond. He had a choice: back out now and risk blowing his cover entirely, or play along and figure out what the hell he’d just walked into. The wolf in him left no room for debate. It wanted her safe, and that meant he had to see this through.
“Fine,” he bit out.
The announcer clapped his hands again, and the crowd went wild with barely contained anticipation. Grayson caught snippets of words—” lucky bastard,” “risky play,” “Bellefleur witch”—but he tuned them out as a figure stepped onto the stage.
The witch conducting the ritual looked to be in her mid-twenties, and her dark hair was pulled into a sleek braid that trailed down her back.
Her simple, dark robes gave her an air of quiet authority, but Grayson’s gut told him she didn’t belong here.
What kind of witch would participate in something like this? Who the hell was she?
The witch approached Cora first, murmuring something Grayson couldn’t make out as she placed her hands on the bindings.
They glowed, then unraveled, falling to the floor in a lifeless heap.
Cora’s hands dropped to her sides, and she flexed her fingers gingerly before her eyes snapped between the witch and Grayson. She looked ready to bolt.
“Don’t,” he said, his voice low enough that only she could hear. “Not yet.”
She squinted at him, but she didn’t move. It was the closest thing to trust he could hope for in a situation like this.
The witch stepped between them, drawing a silver dagger from her robes.
Grayson tensed as she pricked her own palm and let a single drop of blood fall onto the blade.
She turned to him next, and he hesitated for only a second before offering his hand.
The prick was sharp but fleeting, and his blood mingled with hers on the blade.
Cora recoiled when the witch approached her, shaking her head. “No. Absolutely not.”
“It’s the only way,” the witch explained.
“You’ll die if you leave this place unbound.
The magic won’t let you go. The spell was cast on you while you were unconscious.
It’s designed to prevent anyone from escaping without a binding.
If you try to leave without it, your body will shut down. You’ll die.”
Cora’s breathing quickened, and her eyes darted between the witch and Grayson. “And if I agree to this? What happens then?”
“The binding will ensure your survival and grant you very basic access to your magic,” the witch explained.
“But it won’t restore your full abilities.
Not until payment clears in full. Once it does, Voss will send the potion that unlocks your powers again—though they’ll still be tied to the bond.
In other words, your magic will be linked to him. ” She gestured toward Grayson.
“So, not only am I stuck with you, but my powers will be too? This just keeps getting better.”
Cora’s lips pressed into a thin line, and she looked to Grayson again as if weighing her options. Finally, with a grumbled curse, she extended her hand.
The witch worked quickly, carving a faint sigil into the air between them with the blood-tipped dagger.
The symbol flared orange, and its shape burned into Grayson’s memory before it vanished.
A faint drumming pulsed through his chest, and he swore he felt the connection snap into place—something ancient and binding that made his wolf settle for the first time in hours.
“It is done,” the witch announced, stepping back. She met Grayson’s eyes for a fleeting moment with something like a warning in her gaze before she disappeared into the crowd.
Cora swayed, and Grayson reached out instinctively to steady her. She flinched at the contact but didn’t pull away. “What the hell just happened?” she whispered.
“I just saved your life,” he replied evenly. “Don’t make me regret it.”
“Saved it?” She laughed sharply, though there was no humor in it. “You just tied us together in some creepy blood magic ritual. What part of that sounds like saving?”
Grayson didn’t answer. He didn’t have one.
The crowd was beginning to disperse now that the spectacle was over, and the buyers moved on to the next witch on display. Grayson seized the moment, tugging Cora toward the exit.
“We need to leave.”
“No kidding,” she shot back, though her steps faltered as she glanced around. “What’s your plan? Because I don’t see one.”
Grayson’s grip on her arm tightened as they slipped into the shadows. “The plan is to get out alive. After that, we’ll figure it out.”
The bond existed now, a quiet truth woven between them, even if he didn’t understand it.
Whatever it meant, whatever it demanded, there was no undoing it now.
Grayson glanced at Cora, her head held high despite everything and silently vowed to himself that no one would lay a hand on her again, no matter the cost.