Page 25 of Enchantra (Wicked Games #2)

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FICTION

The last time the world had stopped for Genevieve, she’d been wearing a hideous green dress.

The gown had been an effort to match Farrow’s attire for the Mystick Mardi Gras ball, since it was supposed to be the first time she met his parents. His family’s Krewe wore a particularly heinous shade of green—because they might have been the most elite and expensive organization in the city, but that certainly did not buy them taste. And while it had pained her, Genevieve had chosen an outfit in just the same color, to show them what it would look like if she were one of them.

She’d trekked all the way from Grimm Manor to her favorite spot on the Riverwalk in the heavy, ruffled atrocity to meet him. Not wanting to spend any spare change on a carriage when she knew how debt-ridden her family secretly was.

It was why she and Farrow were such a wonderful match—she loved him, and his family was exorbitantly wealthy. At the time it had felt like fate. When she’d arrived, however, she knew fate had nothing to do with it. Just childish naivety.

I don’t understand , she had told him.

My mother found out about your family. She’s forbidden me to escort you tonight. All anyone cares about here is appearances. But we can meet afterward—at Basile’s. Luci will be there, too ? —

If you cannot stand up to your mother about a ball, how will you stand up to her when we are engaged? she’d demanded.

He’d flinched at the mention of engaged , but quickly put on a mask of mocking indifference.

You’re one of them , Genevieve. You’re a fun time, but believing I, or anyone else of good standard, would ever marry someone like you is just delusional. Oh, don’t start crying. It’s pathetic.

Tell me, why wouldn’t I believe it? she’d implored. You made me promises. Of adventures. A grand wedding. Cradles. Love .

Haven’t you ever said things in a lover’s sheets that you regretted later? he’d reasoned. I know you’ve had plenty of opportunities.

She had been so shocked to hear those words coming from his lips that her tears had dried up in an instant.

You know exactly what your reputation is. Luci and the others might ignore it, might ignore your family ties, but I am from a different world than all of you. I have a real legacy to uphold.

Legacies were a con. Genevieve would rather have her whole self than a part of any sort of legacy that treated people like that .

You don’t even like your family , she’d spat. Isn’t that why you’ve spent all this time with us? Your lowly, classless friends? Because you were unhappy and bored sitting in your grand mansion, utterly alone. You said you’d never even felt alive until you met me ? —

I’ve grown out of all that , he’d interrupted. I was waiting until after tonight to tell you, but I’m leaving for London next week. There’s a girl there. The niece of my father’s colleague. We are to be married this fall. Basile’s party and tomorrow’s parade are the final times we might be able to see each other. So come, or don’t, but this is it for us.

And she’d felt it as he walked away. The world slowing to a stop around her. Her heartbeat fading.

At least in her present situation she was wearing something pretty. Though it was still green.

Perhaps I should retire this color.

Grave cleared his throat, the sound slicing through the scenes playing in her head and bringing her focus back to the hovering knife between them.

“If it makes you feel better, time manipulation costs me a great deal,” he said. “But it’s a perfect counter to your little disappearing act.”

When time began to move again, it was subtle. Her heart thudded a single beat in her chest, the knife floating before her shifted an inch closer, and her body flickered out and back in again. She reached deep into her core for her magic, grasping as much of her power as she could while Grave waved a hand between them and let another second tick by. In and out she flickered again. Then the shadows began to rise.

When Grave reached out to slam the frozen blade the rest of the distance to her heart, she unleashed everything she had at once.

The knife pierced through her, but there was no pain. Her body remained completely solid, but everything else in the room, including Grave, disappeared for a moment in a ripple of magic. And when Grave released his hold on the room around them, so did she.

Genevieve knew the moment the knife reappeared somewhere behind her when the sound of a metallic clatter reverberated through the room.

Grave’s face was utterly stunned.

“What the fuck?”

Genevieve sighed in relief when she spotted Rowin on the threshold of the library’s entrance, Umbra sitting at his feet with Grave’s Familiar dangling between her teeth by the scruff of its neck. The little mink squeaked pitifully, and Umbra opened her maw to drop the critter, letting it scamper over to Grave and claw up his body to drape itself over his shoulder.

“He was trying to kill me,” Genevieve pouted as she rushed over to Rowin.

“I meant, what the fuck did you just do?” he clarified as he lifted his arm so she could press herself into his side.

She gave him an exasperated look but certainly didn’t turn down his invitation, tucking herself against his body as she glowered at where Grave was still standing, confounded.

“I protected myself,” she said in a way that implied the word obviously .

“You projected your magic,” Grave spat with irritation. “I’m over two and a half centuries old, and I’ve never heard of a Specter being able to do such a thing.”

She lifted her nose. “I’m sure there’s a lot of things you haven’t heard in two and a half centuries. Someone telling you that you’re fun. The sound of a lover’s climax?—”

Genevieve felt Rowin’s chest move with a silent laugh. Until Grave took a threatening step forward, that was.

In an instant Rowin pushed Genevieve behind him and bared his teeth at his brother. “Do not get any closer.”

“Or what?” Grave barked. “All of this over a girl you don’t even?—”

“ She’s mine ,” Rowin snarled, his shadows beginning to swirl in the air around him. “Whatever you might think of that, whatever problem you have with it, if you ever try to touch her again, I will make the rest of your eternal life even more fucking miserable than it already is.”

Grave’s eyes narrowed at the vehemence in Rowin’s words. “For Hell’s sake, Rowington. You’ve been married to her for mere days. I will be your blood for eternity .”

“How unfortunate for me,” Rowin bit out.

Genevieve watched the exchange between them with as smooth of an expression as she could manage, but, truthfully, hearing Rowin say the words she’s mine with such conviction had her stomach twisted up in knots.

It isn’t real , she assured herself. No matter how real it sounded.

“The last fifteen years you’ve claimed you can’t return to Hell because your research takes up all of your time. You can’t show up to give our mother a single token of affection, but you’ll risk everything for her ?” Grave shook his head.

Genevieve narrowed her eyes at Grave’s words but remained silent.

“Our parents made their own beds,” Rowin stated flatly. “She was thrown into mine.”

The smile Grave gave his brother was bone-chilling, but it was Genevieve he addressed as he said, “You really should have just let me make it quick and easy.”

A large obsidian portal opened in the air between them, and Grave stepped inside and disappeared.

“Well, that was fun,” Genevieve eventually said, trying to keep her tone light.

Rowin turned back to her. “Are you alright?”

Genevieve shrugged. “Where did you go? Earlier?”

“Umbra sniffed out Lilith. Grave only lets her wander around the house when he’s up to something. I wouldn’t have known you were in trouble otherwise. Though you always are, aren’t you?”

She propped a hand on her hip. “Hey, I was minding my own business up here. Knox and Grave sought me out.”

His gaze darkened. “Knox was here too?”

She reached over to fiddle with the signet on her finger, twisting it around nervously as she nodded. “I am a rather hot commodity to seek out in this household, it seems.”

He looked like he wanted to laugh.

“Let’s go back downstairs,” he suggested, holding out his hand in offering. “I need to change, and I don’t think you should stay here by yourself before one of the others decides they feel like ambushing you, too.”

She swallowed as she looked down at his upturned palm as if it were a serpent poised to strike.

She’s mine.

How long had she waited for someone to proudly say such a thing about her? She wished she could’ve enjoyed the butterflies his words had produced, but, unfortunately, she wasn’t confident that those butterflies were capable of understanding the difference between fiction and reality.

She glanced over at the fireplace, at the mirror hanging above it, then reached out and threaded her fingers with his. And she let him lead her all the way back to his room without a word.

As soon as the door was shut, and they were truly alone, she dropped his hand and said, “Do not ever call me yours again.”

A flicker of an emotion she didn’t recognize flitted over his expression, but he didn’t offer any response.

She took a deep breath. “When someone says those words to me, I want them to mean them.”

He looked away from her as he dipped his chin in a nod and vowed, “Deal.”