Page 25

8

Vanessa

I satwith my arms folded, facing away from him as the driver took us home.

“Still not speaking to me? Is this the way things are going to be from now on?” He had the nerve to sound amused, the bastard.

After the fool he made out of me, not to mention himself, he had the nerve to think the whole thing was funny.

“You’re too much to be believed,” I muttered, staring out the window.

Look at all the happy humans. If not happy, at least pretending to be. Look how they don’t need a chaperone when they go on a date. Look how they can ask a man home after dinner, like normal people do when they want things to go further.

“This is why High Sorceresses don’t typically date,” he pointed out.

I wanted to claw his eyes out. “Thank you for the history lesson. Maybe they don’t date because they’re usually much older than I am when they’re named coven leader. Did you consider that? My mother had already borne two children by the time she took her place. That time was over for her.”

He was silent as he considered this. “You have a point. Even so, I’m sure there have been instances such as yours. A young witch leading the coven. It’s a vocation.”

“I see. I’m supposed to forget about everything else in favor of my coven.”

“In a word, yes.”

“Unacceptable.” Especially since I had already named myself High Sorceress for the rest of my life.

Holden knew this, even though he wasn’t there for my pronouncement. When I woke him, the High Council had explained the situation. He would serve me for much longer than Nightwardens typically served, because only death would remove me from my position.

What a stupid, thoughtless, petty little bitch I was back then. Less than a year prior, but it might as well have been a lifetime. Instead of a happily-ever-after, I was stuck with the prospect of never having a relationship because the coven would come first until the day I died.

“I still don’t like him. More than ever,” he growled.

“Why? Because he stood up to you?”

“Because there’s something about him that doesn’t seem genuine.”

“You’re biased.”

“I’m experienced,” he corrected. “I’ve seen much more than you have, and I’m telling you this for your own good. Be careful with him. And don’t think for a second that I’ll leave you alone with him.”

“Holden, please. You’re being ridiculous.”

“It’s for your own good.”

“You are not my father,” I warned.

My palms went warm as my temper threatened to get the better of me. A simple flick of the wrist and he’d be dead. Gone. Shut up forever.

I tried again. “I’m trying to be better than I was, but you’re pushing me to my limit.”

“I don’t care about your limits. I care about your well-being. That’s my job. That’s my only job for the rest of your life. And I’m telling you, I won’t let you walk into a situation you’ll regret.”

I didn’t say another word until we got to the penthouse. I was too busy seething.

He did his customary sweep of the space, just in case somebody had broken in while we were out.

When I had a little more control over myself, I asked, “Would you like to feed before you go to your room?”

“Yes.” Just like that, he was my slave.