Page 38 of Bewitched by the Fruit Bat King (The Bewitching Hour #3)

"They became rabid animals," he said, voice hardening.

"The hunger takes over completely. They stop being who they were—stop thinking, stop feeling anything beyond the need for blood.

It's not life, Willow. It's a tortured existence that eventually requires termination.

Some are able to work through it and learn to control it, but not everyone is strong enough for that. "

When he moved to step away from me, I'd had enough. The plants responded to my will before I even consciously directed them, thick vines suddenly erupting from planters to wrap around the doors, sealing us in together.

"You don't get to walk away from this conversation," I said, my power flowing through the greenhouse, commanding every growing thing to attention. "You don't get to make unilateral decisions about our bond or your life or the future of your people without at least hearing what I have to say."

Kane went still, watching the plants respond to me with an unreadable expression. "I'm listening."

"Hazel encoded the cure within the curse itself," I said, forcing my voice to remain steady despite the turmoil of emotions churning inside me. "The willing sacrifice part is clear, but she never specified death as the only acceptable sacrifice. That's an assumption, not a certainty."

"Then what—"

"I don't know yet," I interrupted. "But I've been studying the grimoire, uncovering more of her hidden writing. The moonflower has been helping me understand her intentions. There's more to discover, more to understand about what she really wanted."

Kane's laugh was hollow, bitter. "What she wanted was revenge on Viktor for choosing his kingdom over her and their child. She wanted to punish his bloodline for generations to come."

"No," I said firmly. "That's not all she wanted. She was hurt and angry, yes, but she was also a woman trying to protect all future Florence witches from the same betrayal she suffered. The curse wasn't just punishment; it was a test."

"A test?"

"To ensure that when a Drake and a Florence inevitably found each other again, the Drake wouldn't make the same choice Viktor did.

" I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of generations pressing down on us.

"The curse forced Viktor to choose between love and duty.

He chose duty. You're facing the same choice now, Kane. "

His expression darkened. "I'm choosing to save my people and protect you. How is that the wrong choice?"

"Because you're not including me in it!" I exclaimed, frustration boiling over. "You're shutting me out, making decisions without me, just like Viktor did to Hazel. You're repeating the same pattern that caused this curse in the first place!"

The accusation hit him visibly, making him flinch as if I'd struck him. The plants around us responded to the intensity of our exchange, leaves rustling anxiously, vines twining around themselves in agitation.

"I'm not Viktor," Kane said quietly, dangerously.

"Then prove it," I challenged. "Work with me, not around me. Tell me everything you know about the curse, about what's happening to your people. Let me help find a solution that doesn't involve either of us dying or breaking something that's clearly meant to exist."

For a long moment, he said nothing, his transformed features unreadable. Then, slowly, he nodded.

"Elspeth confirmed what you've discovered—that the curse was designed as both punishment and test. Michael failed the test by refusing to put Patty and their child first. Every single couple that has come up on this before has failed.

" He moved to a bench, sitting heavily as if the weight of centuries pressed down on him.

"She believes the curse can only be broken by a Drake making the opposite choice—choosing love over kingdom, willing to sacrifice everything for his mate. "

"That doesn't necessarily mean death," I insisted, joining him on the bench, though I maintained a cautious distance. "Sacrifice can take many forms."

"In magical terms, it usually means blood or life," Kane countered. "Michael discovered a ritual that might have broken the curse, but it required his willing death. He refused to perform it, choosing instead to focus on helping his people adapt to their transformation."

"Which they did, for generations," I pointed out. "They stayed part of your coven. They built a civilization, a company, a legacy with you."

"A temporary solution," Kane said, gesturing to his transformed state. "The curse was always there, dormant, waiting for the catalyst."

"Us," I said softly. "Our bond."

He nodded. "When we completed our mate bond, we triggered the next phase of Hazel's curse. She ensured that when a Drake finally bonded with a Florence witch again, the old hunger would return—forcing that Drake to face the same choice Viktor did."

I absorbed this information, piecing it together with what I'd learned from the grimoire. "So breaking our bond..."

"Might stop the transformations," Kane finished. "Or it might not. It's a theory, not a certainty. But if it could save even some of my people from this fate..." He gestured again to the tablet with its grim security feeds.

"And if it kills us both in the process? Those researchers didn't seem confident about our chances of surviving a forced bond breakage."

Kane's expression hardened. "That's why I'm researching ways to redirect the magical backlash to me alone. You would survive."

"While you absorb enough magical trauma to potentially kill you," I concluded flatly. "That's still a sacrifice play, Kane. You're still choosing to die rather than work with me to find another solution."

"There's no time—"

"Make time," I interrupted fiercely. "Promise me you won't attempt either breaking the bond or this sacrifice ritual without involving me, without us exploring every alternative first."

His hesitation told me everything. He was still planning something, still considering paths that excluded me.

"I'll show you exactly how much my powers have grown if you don't promise me right now," I threatened, the plants around us growing visibly more menacing in response to my emotions. "I will use every leaf and vine and root at my disposal to ensure you can't make this decision alone."

"You'd use your power against me?" Kane asked, something like respect mingling with the frustration in his voice.

"To save your life? Absolutely." I met his gaze unflinchingly. "I'd rather have you angry and alive than noble and dead. Promise me, Kane."

After what felt like an eternity, he nodded. "I promise I won't attempt to break the bond or perform any sacrifice ritual without discussing it with you first."

It was a carefully worded promise, one that left him plenty of room to continue researching behind my back. But it was a start.

"Good," I said, standing from the bench. "Then we'll work together. I'll continue studying the grimoire, you'll share everything Elspeth tells you, and we'll find a solution that doesn't involve either of us dying or losing our connection."

Kane rose as well, maintaining a careful distance. "You should go now. My control is... tenuous at best when you're this close. The bond makes the hunger worse."

I wanted to argue, to push for more answers, more assurances. But the strain on his face was genuine, the red glow of his eyes intensifying the longer we remained together.

"Fine," I agreed reluctantly. "But this isn't over. We're in this together, whether you like it or not."

I commanded the vines blocking the doors to retreat, creating a path for my exit. At the threshold, I turned back to him.

"Don't break your promise, Kane. I'll know if you do."

Something flickered across his face—remorse? Resolve? I couldn't be sure. But he nodded once, the gesture formal, almost regal despite his transformed appearance.

"Be safe, Willow," he said softly.

I left without another word, my connection to the plants throughout the building guiding me back to the lobby and to my car. The security guards gave me a wide berth, clearly unnerved by the way the vegetation responded to my passing.

As I drove away from the tower, my emotions finally began to settle enough for clear thought. Kane had promised not to take drastic action without consulting me, but I didn't fully trust that promise. He was keeping something back, holding some piece of information in reserve.

But two could play at that game. There were still mysteries to unravel, still pathways to explore.

One thing was certain: I wouldn't let Kane face this alone, and I definitely wouldn't let him sacrifice himself. Viktor had chosen kingdom over love. Kane seemed determined to choose my safety over his life.

Both choices missed the point of Hazel's test entirely.

As I drove back toward the city, plants along the roadside reached toward my car, responding to my determination. The mate bond in my chest hummed steadily, a constant reminder of what connected us—and what I would fight to preserve.

Behind me, at the very edge of my plant network's awareness, I sensed Kane picking up his phone, dialing a number with grim resolution.

"Elspeth," his voice came faintly through the consciousness of a potted fern in his office. "I need everything you have on the severance procedures. And Michael's ritual. All of it."

The fern couldn't see his expression as he looked at something on his desk—a photo, perhaps—but it felt the wave of mingled determination and regret that emanated from him.

"Some promises," he whispered, "are made to be broken."

The plant network couldn't maintain the connection while I’m this worked up, and I lost the thread of his conversation. But I had heard enough and I wasn’t giving up.