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22

EVANGELINE

I woke up alone, drowning in silky black sheets saturated with the scent of sex.

The castle was quiet, all I could hear was the sound of my own breathing, shallow and sharp, as I wallowed in guilt.

Malachi was right about one thing.

I did not handle regret well. Or at all .

The door to my bathing chamber was ajar, steam wafting out in white billowing waves, scented with something sweet—lavender, maybe. There were fresh roses on my nightstand, still opening up, and I wrapped myself in a sheet and plunged my nose deep into them, their cool velvety petals caressing my warm cheeks.

One glance to my right and I was staring at my reflection in the floor-length mirror.

Even wrapped in a flowing black sheet, I looked different.

Beneath the paleness of my skin, beneath the dark circles and mussed up hair, a different kind of hunger stirred—a gnawing thing, insidious and relentless. Not for blood, not for power, but for absolution .

I had done something unforgivable.

The weight of guilt pressed down on me, a suffocating hand at my throat. I tried to rationalize the crime I committed last night, to carve out some tortured justification, but the truth coiled around my ribs like a serpent. I had betrayed them both. Blake’s unwavering devotion, and Riordan’s trust. I had turned my back on two males who’d stood by me, and now, I was drowning in my own chaos.

And yet, even knowing that, I couldn’t regret what I’d done.

Not completely.

Because what had happened with Malachi had been inevitable. Somehow—and I didn’t know how, last night had seemed like the culmination of centuries—eons—of waiting. Like we’d been searching for each other our whole lives, and now that’d we’d found each other, the world could finally start turning again.

Which didn’t make a bit of logical sense.

But my heart knew the truth. There would be atonement for my actions.

I pressed my fingers against my temples, willing the storm inside my head to quiet as I looked at the phone on the dresser.

I should text Blake and Riordan. Tell them I was going to Sleepy Hollow. Tell them the goddamned truth . But the thought of their disappointment, their fury—was unbearable. I’d broken something sacred between us, and I didn’t know how to fix this.

I left the phone, crossed the cold floor and found an enormous clawfoot tub filled with steaming water. I sank into the warmth, but nothing calmed my raging thoughts, nothing eased my guilt, nothing stopped my frantic mind from racing.

“I’m sorry.” Malachi propped himself in the doorway, face so full of emotion I couldn’t begin to parse anything out. “This was exactly what I didn’t want. You saddled with guilt.”

“I knew what I was doing, and I’ll figure out a way to fix things with Blake and Riordan.” I sank lower into the water and his eyes darkened, hooded lids dropping. “But I don’t regret last night, Malachi. What happened between us felt…”

“Inevitable?” He suggested, lifting his brow.

“Inevitable,” I agreed, the water swirling around my throat. “There’s a reason for that, isn’t there?”

He stared down at me for so long, I didn’t think I’d get an answer, but then he nodded. “Yes. There is a reason for that.” I waited, but no explanation came, just that sad, sorrowful expression deepening.

“We need to talk, Vicious. About many things, but time…is not on our side right now.” He crossed the room, picked up a washcloth and dropped to his knees beside the tub. “I’m going to loosen the block on your magic. The warmth of the water will help keep your body calm. Let the power flow through you, don’t fight your flames, try to guide them, instead. I won’t let you get hurt.”

He soaked the cloth and squeezed warm water down the nape of my neck, while deep inside, the lid of the silver box cracked open. Shadow fire crept out, not in a vicious flood, but a slow trickle of power.

“Relax. Let them fill you up, don’t resist, even though this will feel strange at first. Fighting the process only makes them push harder for dominance.” More water flowed down my neck, my chest and I closed my eyes, my muscles going loose.

“That’s it, just like that. Now I’ll let more out, but I won’t give you more than you can handle, and we’ll go slow.”

I didn’t know how long we sat like that, steam curling around us, his scent fogging my senses, magic slowly flooding through my body like liquid power, him soothing me, whenever my pulse began to race, the washcloth traded at some point for his fingers, massaging the tension from my shoulders.

“There. The box is fully open, how do you feel?”

I opened my eyes. The effect was strange, but not uncomfortable, like having to pee really bad, but I didn’t feel like I was in danger of being torn apart, like I had before. And like he promised, there was no pain.

“Good. How did you know the water would work?”

“Because this isn’t my first time dealing with this magic,” he said cryptically. “Water is a conduit, softening the transition, both for you and for the magic, easing the transfer of power. I would have tried this the first time,” one side of his mouth quirked, “but somehow, I didn’t figure you’d agree to be naked in a bath with my hands on you when I’d just dragged you away from your mate and the king.”

“No.” I agreed softly, “I would have found a bigger candelabra.”

His smile grew, as did the dimple in his chin. “That’s my girl. Get dressed, there’s food on your dresser and clean clothes. Meet me downstairs and we’ll go over some ground rules before we head to Sleepy Hollow.”

My stomach tightened into a knot. “Right now?”

“We are out of time, Vicious.” He reached out and tucked my hair behind my ear, then cupped my chin. “If I had my wish, we’d have months…years, to prepare. To make love and laugh and train you to be the strongest you can be while we hid away from the world, but I’ve never been that lucky.” He let me go and pushed to his feet, my eyes never leaving him.

“Ten minutes. Downstairs.” He paused, just before he reached the door. “For the record, last night meant everything to me. In case I don’t get a chance to tell you later.”

The moment he disappeared, magic rose inside me like a tidal wave, terrible and crushing, then ebbed away. I hadn’t said anything back.

I should have told him…I should have told him last night had changed my life. I should have asked him why this all felt so… inevitable . I should have told him the world had rearranged itself into something new, that even the air smelled different, like I’d been reborn.

Instead, I’d said nothing .

Because I was a coward. A fucking coward.

I swallowed hard, rising from the water, drying off and heading for the bedroom, where I found a fresh chocolate croissant, a steaming mug of coffee, and a pile of raspberries, dusted in sugar. The clothes were black, efficient, and exactly my size, and I dressed quickly, alternating sips of coffee with bites of the delicious pastry, then picked up the phone.

Barely enough battery left for a message.

We’re going after Ravok. Phone almost toast. I’ll be home when he’s dead. I love you both, more than anything.

My phone died completely, the second after the message sent, and I headed downstairs.

Malachi said he’d used water to unlock magic like this before.

So who else had magic like mine? Rhiannon. He had to be talking about Rhiannon. Had he…oh God, had he been her lover? Had he… loved her ?

I tried to crush down my mounting jealousy, which I had no right to feel, descending the stairs quickly, as though movement could stop my doubts from circling like vultures. When I reached the bottom, I paused, closing my eyes.

For better or probably worse, I had made my choice.

And now I had to live with that decision.

Even if it meant enduring the weight of my own betrayal crushing me from the inside out.

* * *

“Remember what the magic felt like before?”

“Oh, I remember,” I muttered, my eyes constantly drawn to the beds of roses around us, gently swaying in the salty breeze. Why had he brought me here, to this garden, where the roses were a constant reminder of…everything?

“Good,” he said, totally ignoring my sarcasm. “Now find the end of the tether, grab hold, and don’t let go.”

Shadowy flames twisted around me, curling like smoke, except they weren’t smoke. They were echoes of something deeper, darker. They coiled into dark, writhing figures with hollow faces and clawed hands, remnants of people’s worst deeds made manifest, sin, burning like the darkest fire.

“We don’t have time for anything complicated.” He circled me, his mouth pinched in a tight line. “All we want right now is for you to control your magic long enough for us to cross the grounds, get into that building and get you close to Ravok.”

“You might be overestimating my abilities,” I grumbled. In the tub, my body supine beneath his clever hands, the magic had purred like a contented cat. Out here, it gnashed and snarled, lashing against my insides, flaying me apart.

“You’re afraid.” His voice was quiet, steady, and despite myself, some of that calm seeped into me, smoothing out my clenched muscles, easing the ache in my belly. “But that’s good. Fear means you understand the danger.”

“Trust me, I understand, because I might actually implode at any moment.”

“I’m right here. I won’t leave you.” He stopped behind me, set his hands on my shoulders and my entire body relaxed, the cold stone beneath my feet in stark contrast to the heat roiling inside me as he turned me toward the opening to the garden, the empty space beyond.

“Now, Vicious,” he murmured, his voice a tether in the dark. “Let your magic rise.”

I swallowed. Something inside me cracked open, like I wasn’t just summoning magic—I was letting something terrible escape its cage. But I closed my eyes and reached for the tether, letting my controls drop away at the same time.

The air thickened.

A slow, curling cold rose in my chest, tendrils of black flame unfurling from my fingertips. And then, the shadows emerged, clawing their way out, screaming without sound, faces stretching in agony. Sins given shape. The weight of their agony crushed me, threatening to pull me under.

“Control them,” Malachi said. “Don’t fight the power. Guide your fire, control the flames.”

Guide it. Right . Like that was easy when the magic wanted to consume everything in sight.

I clenched my fists, which only made things worse. The shadows stretched, writhing, drawn toward Malachi now. My breath caught. No, no, no—I tried to haul them back, but one clawed hand reached out and brushed down his cheek, leaving a trail of blood.

Fear swept through me when I realized I’d hurt him, like the entire universe stopped.

Out of the writhing mass something solidified, a pale face taking shape from the shadows, then Rhiannon stared out at me through crystal blue eyes framed by dark lashes, a tattered dress whipping around her, one hand rising in greeting—or warning.

I reeled backwards, away from those too-familiar eyes, from the past staring me right in the face. My gaze went to Malachi, his mouth open, horror etched across his features and any doubts I might have had about he and Rhiannon faded away.

Rhiannon was kept hidden away, protected by someone Aoife trusted.

The roses.

They once…were beloved by someone I was very close to. I keep them in her memory.

“Evie.” Malachi’s sharp voice cut through my shock and Rhiannon melted away into the mass of writhing forms. “Don’t react, they are yours to command. This is your inheritance, your destiny. You were born for this, don’t be afraid, embrace your power.”

I forced myself to breathe, to remember what he’d told me. Magic wasn’t just power—magic was carved from intent. I focused, pulling the shadows back, trying to make them move the way I wanted instead of the way they hungered.

The figures twitched, resisting at first. Then, slowly, they followed my lead. They coiled around my arms, no longer snapping like rabid creatures. The cold fire still burned, but it was contained, only the flowers closest to us had been reduced to frozen ruins.

My heartbeat slowed. I looked up at Malachi, who gave a small nod of approval. “Again,” he said and I groaned, but couldn’t stop a small smile. Maybe, just maybe, I could do this.

And later, walking past beds of flattened roses, surrounded by the scent of crushed vegetation, I asked, “Why sin, do you think?”

Why did Rhiannon appear, the second my magic touched you? Is she your greatest sin, Malachi? Those were the questions I yearned to ask, but was too afraid of the answers.

He shrugged. “You humans have your concept of original sin, and we have ours.”

“So vampires really believe in sin? After all the evil shit you do?”

“Of course. But our concept of sin vastly differs from yours. Our code is based on honor, yours is based on human weakness.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Is it? We don’t punish our kind for who they are sleeping with, or who they love, or eating too much, or wanting more. We punish for betrayal, for breaking one’s word, for harming innocents. We follow a strict code of honor. You might not agree with our ways, or even understand them, but we do have principles. Honor isn’t subjective, it’s earned and kept only through trust.”

“Says the male who’s guilty of all of the above.” The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them. I’d meant the comment to be funny, but it was anything but, and Malachi’s face fell.

“I never claimed to be a good person, Vicious. I have done terrible things to my enemies that will haunt me for the rest of time and I have protected those I loved. I’m like anyone else, flawed and petty and good to the ones I care about. But I will never hurt you.”

“I’m sorry.” I told him, “I shouldn’t have…”

“Sin might not be inherently evil, but it does require atonement.” He looked past me, his gaze empty. “And killing Ravok will atone for many of my mistakes.” He offered me his hand. “What do you say we finish this?”