Chapter 31
Thirty-One
Lucien
She enters the dining hall with her hair pulled back, wearing a shirt that fails to conceal the marks on her neck.
I catch her scent before she even sits down, and I know.
The realization settles like ice in my stomach.
I’ve lived centuries, watched empires rise and fall, yet the sight of Rose bearing another man’s scent still provokes a response I thought long extinguished.
I settle my features into careful neutrality as she slides into her seat across from me, but my eyes miss nothing.
“Morning,” Rose says, reaching for the coffee carafe. Her fingers tremble slightly.
“You’re up early,” I observe, keeping my tone even. “I thought you might sleep in after your training session.”
She pauses mid-pour, eyes flicking up to meet mine. There’s a wariness there, but no shame. Never shame with Rose. “It was intense,” she says simply.
“Evidently.”
She brings the mug to her lips. Even without vampire senses, anyone could see that something has changed.
“You don’t have to look at me like that,” she says after a moment.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re looking for evidence.”
I allow myself a small smile. “Apologies.”
Rose sighs, setting down her mug. “Just ask what you want to ask, Lucien.”
“Very well.” I lean forward, lowering my voice though the dining hall is nearly empty. “Was it worth it?”
Her eyes widen, clearly not the question she was expecting. “What?”
“Whatever transpired between you and Ash. Was it worth the risk?”
She doesn’t look away. “I’m still figuring that out.”
I nod once, accepting this for now. The early January morning light streams through the high windows, catching in her dark hair, reflecting in her eyes. She looks both exhausted and strangely vibrant, as if some inner fire has been stoked higher.
“You should eat something,” I say, pushing a plate of buttered toast, scrambled eggs and thick slices of bacon toward her.
“I know you’re worried.”
“Concerned would be more accurate.”
“Is there a difference?”
“Worry implies helplessness. I am never helpless.”
That earns me a small smile. “No, I suppose you’re not.”
“Eat, Rose.”
She obliges, taking a bite of toast.
We sit in silence for a few moments, the quiet broken only by the distant sounds of the kitchen staff preparing for the breakfast rush. Rose picks at her food, occasionally glancing at the entrance as if expecting someone’s arrival.
“Do you wish to talk about it?” I offer, surprising even myself with the question.
Rose looks up, equally surprised. “With you?”
“I’ve witnessed centuries of human folly and passion. I may be more understanding than you give me credit for.”
She considers this, then shakes her head. “Not yet. I need to sort it out myself first.” She pushes back from the table abruptly. “I should get to class.”
“Of course.” I rise as she does.
“Lucien.” She hesitates, one hand resting on the table. “I’m not sorry.”
“I didn’t ask you to be.”
“But you think I should be.”
I consider my response carefully. “What I think is irrelevant. Your choices are your own, Rose.”
She studies me for a moment longer, then nods and turns away.
Two hours later, I’m standing in Soren’s room with Drake. His connection to Rose has strengthened him remarkably.
“You look grim, even for you,” Drake says by way of greeting.
“The situation warrants it.” I place a leather-bound volume on Soren’s antique coffee table. “I found something.”
Soren is barefoot and shirtless, looking for all the world like he’s just rolled out of bed.
“This better be important,” he says, dropping into an armchair.
“But first, you should know that Rose slept with Ash,” I say bluntly.
The room goes still. Drake’s face darkens, while Soren merely raises an eyebrow.
“You’re certain?” Drake asks, his voice tight.
“Yes. She doesn’t deny it.”
Soren leans forward, eyes narrowing. “How did she seem?”
“Different,” I admit. “She seems almost energized.”
“What’s that?” Drake gestures to the book I’ve brought.
I place my hand on the worn leather cover. “The original head of the Blood Moon Coven’s diaries. Sebastian, Ash is his direct descendant. I found them buried in the archives.”
“Ash’s ancestor?” Soren looks intrigued now. “How did you get access to Blood Moon Coven materials?”
“They’re not with the coven materials. They were hidden in the academy archives, misfiled deliberately, I suspect, under mundane historical accounts.
” I open the diary carefully, the centuries-old pages threatening to disintegrate beneath my fingers.
“These date back to the 1690s, around the time of the original blood contract.”
Drake moves closer. “What do they say about Abigail Smith?”
“It’s... complicated.” I turn to a marked page. “Their relationship wasn’t what you might think. Sebastian and Abigail were lovers before the betrayal.”
“Lovers?” Soren’s eyebrows shoot up. “Well, that certainly adds a layer to our current situation.”
I continue, “According to these entries, they planned to unite their covens through marriage, despite both already having spouses. Sebastian believed their combined powers would create a legacy that would change the course of magical history.”
“So what happened?” Drake asks.
“The Crescent Moon Coven happened.” I flip to another page. “They offered Abigail protection during the witch trials in exchange for binding her bloodline to them. Sebastian calls it ‘the ultimate betrayal’ in his own words.
“No wonder there’s bad blood,” Soren muses. “Quite literally.”
I read from the diary: “‘Today I learned the depth of deceit possible in a heart I thought mirror to my own. Abigail has bound herself and all who will follow in her blood to the Crescent Moon. Our child, unborn and now forfeit, will never know the power that should have been its birthright. I will not forgive this. Not in this lifetime, nor in any that may follow.’”
“Their child?” Drake looks stricken. “Abigail was carrying Sebastian’s child when she made the deal?”
“It appears so.” I close the diary. “Sebastian believed the Crescent Moon Coven threatened her, forced her into the agreement. Others say she chose it willingly for the protection it offered her family. The truth is likely somewhere in between.”
Soren whistles low. “So Ash is trying to reclaim what his ancestor lost. Rose’s bloodline was meant to be joined with his all along.”
“That’s one interpretation,” I concede reluctantly.
Drake paces the room, agitated. “This doesn’t tell us his intentions now. Whether he actually cares for Rose or is just using her to fulfill some centuries-old vendetta.”
“I’ve seen how he looks at her,” Soren says. “That’s not just ambition.”
I scoff. “You’re an incubus. You see desire everywhere.”
“Yes, and I’m rarely wrong about it.” Soren leans back, crossing his ankles. “Besides, have you noticed how her magic has changed since he started training her?”
Drake stops pacing. “It’s stronger. Much stronger. And she has more control And...” he hesitates, “I’m more able to be here than I’ve ever been. Whatever she’s doing with her magic, it’s working.”
This gives me pause. Rose’s increased magical ability is undeniable, as is Drake’s more permanent manifestation.
“I’ve noticed something else,” Soren adds. “She’s more centered. Before, her emotions were all over the place, understandable given everything she’s been through. But lately, even with the threat of Jasmine hanging over all of us, she seems more balanced.”
“You think that’s because of Ash?” I ask skeptically.
“I think it’s because of all of us,” Soren replies. “Each of us gives her something she needs. Safety. Tenderness. Pleasure and diversion.” He grins wickedly at that last part. “And Ash challenges her. Pushes her to be stronger.”
“Or pushes her toward danger,” I counter.
“Has it occurred to either of you,” Drake interjects, “that maybe Ash genuinely cares for her? That this isn’t just about bloodlines and ancient feuds?”
“It’s crossed my mind,” Soren admits. “Though it complicates things considerably.”
I shake my head. “His coven is in tatters. He lost almost everything when Helena staged her coup, and he’s the leader of something that’s now almost powerless. Like a dragon without wings, fangs or fire. Rose is his only remaining connection to power.”
“Or his only remaining connection, period,” Drake argues. “Loss can change people. Make them see what truly matters.”
“Poetic, but completely na?ve.”
“Is it?” Drake challenges. “Look at us—a vampire, a ghost, and an incubus—all changed by our connection to one stubborn witch. Are we so different from Ash?”
“We don’t own her blood contract,” I remind him sharply.
Soren holds up his hands. “Gentlemen, let’s not forget the immediate problem. Jasmine is consuming witches. Two people are already missing. Whatever Ash’s motivations, he warned us about that.”
“Convenient timing,” I mutter.
“Or he’s genuinely concerned for Rose’s safety,” Drake counters.
“Both can be true,” Soren points out. “Humans are complex, and Ash is human. A warlock but a human.
I’m about to respond when the door opens without warning. Rose stands in the threshold, her expression shifting from surprise to understanding as she takes in the three of us.
“Well,” she says, crossing her arms. “This looks like a fun little meeting.”
None of us speaks for a moment, caught out like schoolboys planning mischief.
Drake finally breaks the silence. “We were just—”
“Talking about me?” She steps inside, closing the door behind her. “And Ash, I’m guessing.”
“We’re concerned,” I say simply.
“I know.” She moves to the center of the room, commanding our attention without effort. “And I appreciate it. I really do. But this is new territory for all of us.”
“That’s putting it mildly.” Soren pours himself a glass of whiskey from the decanter on his table.
Rose’s eyes fall on Sebastian’s diary. “What’s that?”
“Sebastian’s personal accounts,” I explain. “Your ancestor Abigail’s lover.”
Her eyes widen. “Lover?”
“And the father of the child she was carrying when she made the deal with the Crescent Moon Coven,” Drake adds gently.
Rose sinks onto the arm of the sofa. “I didn’t know that part.” She reaches for the diary, and I push it toward her. “Does Ash know?”
“I would assume so,” I say. “It explains a great deal about his interest in you.”
Her head snaps up. “You think that’s all it is? Some twisted sense of reclaiming what his family lost?”
“It’s a possibility we can’t ignore,” I say carefully.
“I know Ash better than any of you. Yes, he’s driven by ambition and revenge. Yes, he’s complicated and dangerous. But last night wasn’t about revenge, or power, or old feuds.”
“What was it about, then?” Drake’s voice gentle but strained.
Rose looks at each of us in turn. “Connection. The same thing that draws me to each of you, in different ways. I don’t expect you to understand it. Hell, I barely understand it myself. But I can’t deny what I feel.”
“And what is that, exactly?” I ask.
“Something I can’t ignore anymore.” She stands straighter now, more certain. “Look, I’m not asking for your approval. But Ash is part of this now. A complicated, maddening part, but still part of it.”
The three of us exchange glances. Whatever reservations we might have, Rose has made her position clear.
“This changes things,” Drake says quietly.
“Everything changes,” Rose responds. “That’s how life works. But the one constant is that I care about all of you. That doesn’t change just because Ash is in the picture now.”
Soren is the first to break the tension. “I, for one, am feeling rather progressive about this whole arrangement. The more the merrier, and all that.”
Rose rolls her eyes, but it’s with a smile. “
She turns to me, her expression sobering. “Lucien? You’ve been quiet.”
“I have existed for centuries, Rose. I’ve learned when to pick my battles.” I meet her gaze directly. “I don’t trust him. That won’t change overnight. But I trust you.”
Relief washes over her face. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mistake acceptance for enthusiasm,” I caution.
“Never,” she says with a small smile.
Drake moves to Rose’s side, taking her hand. “We just want you safe.”
“I know,” she says softly. “And I am. Safer than I’ve been since I got here, actually. Ash is teaching me to defend myself in ways none of you can.”
The truth of this statement stings, but I cannot deny it. For all his faults, Ash understands Rose’s magic in ways we do not.
Rose glances at her watch. “I should go. I have class in ten minutes.” She hesitates, then adds, “We’re all still on for dinner tonight, right? In the private dining room?”
“Of course.” Drake answers quickly, having discovered that he can now enjoy food and drink again in his newly corporeal state, he won’t miss a meal.
“Good.” She turns to leave, but at the door, she stops. “Just so you know, I’d have appreciated being included in this conversation from the start.”
With that, she’s gone, leaving the three of us alone again.
Drake rubs his face. “She’s right. We should have talked to her directly.”
“Would you have preferred we invite Ash to this little gathering as well?” I shake my head.
“Maybe eventually we’ll have to,” Drake says, surprising me.
Soren chuckles. “Dear Ash, we cordially invite you to discuss your intentions toward our shared girlfriend.”
The situation is absurd by any standard, three supernatural beings sharing their affections with one extraordinarily frustrating human witch. And now, apparently, a fourth.
“Our bed was already rather crowded.” Soren finishes his drink and sets the glass on the table. “I suppose we’ll have to upgrade to a California king.”
“Soren, do shut up,” I say.
The world has changed in stranger ways during my long existence. I’ve learned to adapt.
We all have. We will again.