Chapter 20
Callum
There are certain nights of the year when a vampire can extend their power beyond its natural limits. Special eclipses, witches’ sabbats, and of course . . . the longest night of the year.
The winter solstice.
It’s been a long time since I’ve had full use of my power, and even now on the winter solstice, I’m close but not quite there. The hum of power crackling beneath my skin weakens as I try to stretch its limits, and for the first time in centuries, I’m annoyed.
Sighing, I shake the ice from my limbs and hop down the castle’s rooftop onto Sienna’s balcony a few stories below. For tonight’s plan to work, I need to focus on Sienna and not myself—an easy feat were it not for her wild wolf salivating over being near her for any amount of time.
The man is feral for her.
I stare through the cracked glass as she paces the length of the room, claws out and raven locks blowing wildly around her. The fireplace is unlit, the room dark, cold, and empty except for the thud of her footfalls and the sharp glow of her wild, wolf eyes.
They snap to mine as I tap on the window.
When she rushes over, I hold up my hand.
“Stand back,” I instruct, smiling when she does exactly as told.
Pressing my palm to the glass, I flex my fingertips until the cracks spiderweb along the entire frame.
With a focused pressure point and enough force applied, it finally shatters, falling like sleet around Sienna’s feet.
She doesn’t waste any time and grabs my outstretched hand to pull herself through the opening.
Selfishly—greedily—I draw her body to mine and press my nose to her hair.
A vampire’s senses aren’t as keen as a shifter’s, but we have our own ways of memorizing our mates—taste being the primary one rather than scent.
Though my illusion is not a perfect replica of reality, the taste of her blood on my tongue has left me wanting.
Midnight couldn’t come fast enough.
I drag my fingertip along the column of her throat and tip her chin up. The flush coating her cheeks is a welcome reminder of the blood coursing through her veins, and I wrap my hand around her neck to test her pulse. Strong, rhythmic, and if things go my way tonight . . . nearly mine.
I indulge in her warmth more than I should, breathing in—despite not needing oxygen—so that I can pretend that I’m drinking her in like the others do.
I know she likes it when they touch her, so I do the same.
Taking my time, I thumb her pulse until it flutters .
. . and she blushes a beautiful rose red.
“We’re wasting time,” she huffs, grabbing my hand and pulling it away from her face. Her demeanor shifts as she leans into the moonlight, the shine of her eyes growing in intensity. “Where are the Games set up?”
A smile tugs at my lips. We have a moment to spare for teasing. “No thank you for your rescuer?”
She clutches my fingers so tightly that my joints pop, the brittle bones grinding against each other. This startles her so much that she gasps, a delicate little sound that catches us both off guard. Her eyes soften a fraction alongside her grip, but I don’t let her release me.
“Callum, are you—”
“It’s nothing for you to worry about.” My annoyance comes back in full force, stealing every remnant of joy from a precious moment alone. Of all the times for my body to give out, now is not one of them.
Lifting her into my arms and ignoring the twinge in my wrist, I jump off the balcony with ease, landing on the snow-covered ground with my body fully intact. I toss a quick curse to the gods, knowing that they’re watching their children fall apart and not lifting a finger to assist.
We’re alone to face the chaos we’ve sown.
Revyn glowers as he approaches from mere feet away, his fists already clenched by his sides. “You were supposed to drop her.”
“Your help was not needed.”
“Like hells it wasn’t. We agreed that I would carry her.”
“Stand down, wolf.” I cradle Sienna’s head against my chest and enjoy the way Revyn absolutely loathes me being far too close to his mate.
Selfishly, I run my fingers through her hair and scrape my fingertips against her scalp, eager for the whimper of pleasure that passes her lips.
Shifter senses are heightened during a fool moon, and I intend to take full advantage of that fact until sunrise.
Revyn’s brooding intensifies, and I bite back a grin. Messing with his head has easily become one of my favorite pastimes. But alas, we’re out of time for the evening. Tonight’s Mating Games are already underway.
“We need to teleport,” I inform them, taking measured strides through the snow. It billows around my cloak and leaves a trail in its wake. “The transporter is this way.”
“Have the Games begun?” Sienna asks, using my shoulders as an anchor to lift herself up.
“Yes. We’ve missed the introduction, but there’s still plenty of time to catch up to your peers.” We haven’t been briefed on the rules for tonight’s festivities, but Thorn and his little witch agreed to explain everything once we arrived.
Assuming they survive that long.
Thorn, I’m not concerned over, but the witch . . .
Humans are such pitiably fragile creatures.
I set Sienna on her feet once we reach the teleportation circle, a stone platform with glowing violet runes etched across its surface.
Two staff members sitting at a table take our names and assign each of us with numbers—Sienna being the highest at a ten, Revyn in the middle at an eight, and myself lagging behind at a six.
This seems to bring Revyn a fair bit of delight, as he cracks a wide smile and chuckles under his breath.
“Something funny, wolf?”
Shaking his head, he rolls his shoulders back. “Just wondering how shitty your powers are if you only scored a six.”
“We don’t know what the numbers are for,” Sienna reasons, her breath fogging the air.
“My powers have had quite the effect on you,” I remind him, flashing my fangs. “I wonder what that says about your abilities.”
A witch in an odious patchwork sweater ignores our bickering and waves her hand in the air, performing a basic illumination spell. Our numbers appear at our backs and hover in place, each one glowing a different color. Vibrant red for ten, bright orange for eight, and putrid green for six. Lovely.
“The numbers represent your base score for the event,” she explains, glancing between us. “A ten is the highest, with one being the lowest. Everyone in the arena has been assigned a number based upon your perceived threat level.”
I stare at the crimson number ten hovering behind Sienna’s shoulder blades. If the numbers are truly based upon perceived threat, the wilder wolf Revyn should have scored higher than Sienna.
“Who assigns the scores?” I ask.
“Your classmates. The headmaster asked everyone to rate each other at the start of the event, which you three missed.”
There we go. The number isn’t about threat to life but the threat to one’s chances of mating. Tonight’s event is about showing off your abilities to potential mates and eliminating your competition at the same time.
Ruthlessly efficient. I can appreciate the event’s honesty for why we’re all at Heartsflame: to win.
“So whoever is your biggest competition gets a higher number?” Sienna glowers. “I’m no one’s competition. I shouldn’t be a ten.”
“Complain all you want. It won’t change your number.”
Revyn runs a hand down his face. “Everyone saw us yesterday. In the library.” His gaze flicks to mine for a split second before he looks away. “You and Alistair . . . the entire academy knows that you and him are—”
Sienna cuts him off. “Nothing!”
“—fated,” Revyn finishes, sighing.
“Alistair is eligible bachelor number one,” I conclude, nodding. “Your score makes sense, Wildflower. You are the biggest obstacle to many people’s preferred match.”
She grumbles. “I don’t even want him—”
“May I continue?” the staff member interrupts, not waiting for our response.
“Your base number stays the same throughout the event, but your individual scores fluctuate based upon how many points you gain or lose. Earn thirty total points and maintain them by sunrise, and you pass. Drop below zero points at any time tonight, and you automatically fail. There is no coming back from zero.”
“How do we gain points?” Sienna asks.
The witch sighs. “I’m getting to that.” Crossing her arms, she continues with her speech at a leisurely pace, eating into our remaining challenge time without a care.
“A score between a one and a twenty-nine means that you get to stay at the academy, but you’ll have a penalty for the Spring Mating Games.
I suggest you earn as many points as possible by sunrise so that you aren’t ambushed and taken out by a few heavy hitters, like nines or tens.
As for how to earn points, it’s pretty simple.
Knock out your classmates, and you add their base points to your total score while they lose your base points to theirs.
For example—” She nods at Revyn. “He’s a base eight, which means that if she knocks him out, she’ll add eight points to her total, giving her a combined score of eighteen.
But because he was knocked out by a base ten, he would then drop down to a zero, which means that he’s disqualified.
Everyone’s base number will be displayed on their backs throughout the competition—and no, you cannot remove your clothes to get rid of it.
Shifting, invisibility, shadows—doesn’t matter what your power is, your number stays.
But if your opponent can’t see you, they can’t see your number. Make sense?”
So as soon as you reveal yourself, you reveal your number. That puts magic-users at an advantage. Anyone who possesses invisibility or false sight—like my illusions—can pick people off without ever being seen.
“Don’t get your ass kicked,” Revyn mutters, simplifying the rules to their basest form, “and beat the shit out of everyone else. Got it.”