Page 17

VIOLET

Plans buzz around my mind as I walk back to Darwin House with Leif.

Tomorrow, I have a choice between visiting the Whitegrove estate or investigating the funeral home.

I’m leaning toward the funeral home—Cornelius is less likely to possess embalming equipment.

He requires a human professional to perform a task that witches can’t, and tonight’s meeting points to whom.

Clement Morris.

Rowan, naturally, is wary about visiting the Whitegrove estate, and didn’t want to discuss my plans.

Our trip to the police station tonight exhausted him.

He grew quieter, and his answers more distant.

The weary ‘yes’ and ‘no’ are a tell-tale sign that he’s at his physical and metal limits and so I accept this and leave him to sleep.

I sense a wariness around Rowan after our meeting with the man in the morgue.

I didn’t damage the individual as much as I could’ve—I regained control, as the man’s fear surfaced.

Did my behavior bother Rowan more than he’s admitting?

He informed me afterwards I used ‘unnecessary force’; an odd comment since I left the man physically intact besides a few streaks of blood.

I avoid mentioning Grayson to the others, but tonight starkly reminds me that he’s missing. Grayson’s absence nudges memories of Leif’s missing days. During the time humans kept him in a cell, I struggled with frustration and fear, hating my uselessness, despite all my abilities.

But humans couldn’t damage Leif in the way a potent supernatural creature could gravely injure Grayson.

I glance at Leif beside me and squeeze his fingers tighter until he protests before lifting my hand to kiss the back when I apologize.

At times like these, I’m acutely aware that the old disconnected, self-assured Violet would never understand how much of herself she was missing.

Not only the compassionate side I denied, but the three pieces of myself I never knew existed: Rowan, Leif, and Grayson.

I can’t explain away their effect on me as supernatural bonds. Not anymore.

The horrors my family survived created love and affection that chain their souls. They protect each other above all else. I once struggled to understand how a man with Dorian’s past and traits could love, but long since attempted to find a logical reason for what the word means.

Yet all my recent decisions come from my love for Holly, not guilt. And if Leif, Rowan, or Grayson face life-threatening situations, I’ll stop at nothing to help them. I’m not disloyal to my family—I’ve a deeper loyalty to others who I love in a more complicated and consuming way.

But tonight I learned the danger that accompanies this emotional complexity.

Unleashing the buried feelings about Grayson’s absence and Holly’s predicament created consequences.

As I stood in that morgue, fears over what happens when Dorian discovers the truth pulled at the darkness I try to contain.

The pressure in the man's head as I dug into his memories mirrored the pounding in my own. Driven by my intense need for Grayson’s safe return, I instinctively used every ounce of power to uncover clues, without considering the situation,

So, when I found a tightly wound elastic ball of memories, I disregarded the human’s safety while I picked and pulled until they unraveled:

A meeting with Cornelius’s employee concerning the blackmail. Cornelius’s men taking Viktor from the morgue with Clement Morris in attendance.

But also, images of the man’s children and fear for his life.

Rowan didn’t need to stop me. The children’s faces were enough.

I’m accosted by a flashlight shining in my face as Leif and I walk through Darwin’s entry doors.

“Where have you been?”

Oh, wonderful. Logan. “Out. Performing despicable deeds.”

“Ha ha.”

Since the ‘werewolf on campus’ incident, and threat of the full moon chaos, the humans have not only taken to patrolling in the evenings but also set up a roster to guard Darwin’s entrance at night.

I’ve held back from informing them the uselessness of such activities against supes.

That comment would only lead to trouble for me if anything untoward occurs.

Tonight, I reply with a stony-faced silence and leave the humans to guess where I’ve spent the evening. As I stalk upstairs, Leif hangs back to speak to them. Surely, he won’t inform the pair where we spent the night.

The hallway to Holly’s and my room is quiet and empty, two a.m. a common time for humans to sleep if not socializing.

Holly spent time with Marci tonight and must’ve stayed with her because there’s no light filtering beneath the door to our room.

Should I check on Holly? No. Holly finds my constant scrutiny of her and anybody she interacts with annoying.

Despite my concerns about Marci’s motives, I’ve accepted that Holly is safe with the potent witch if I’m not around.

Holly feels safer at Thornwood currently, but I avoid informing Holly that I’m not as sure about her safety.

After all, Holly’s abduction took place on campus.

Logically, nobody would attempt a second abduction.

Mrs. Lorcan banned all campus visitors without authority, which means the person responsible would reveal themselves as a member of the academy’s student body or staff.

I detect a visitor waiting inside my room before I open the door. Ordinarily, I’d immediately throw the individual through the window, but not this one. The moment I step into the room, a tall figure rises from a chair, and Grayson seizes hold of me, hands on my face as his mouth closes on mine.

Grayson hasn’t kissed me in this desperate manner since the night in his room, after I came across Holly’s broken body then blamed and attacked him.

I pull on his long hair, forcing him to break the kiss.

He looks back at me, emerald eyes shining but with an unmistakably black edge to them, his breathing shallow.

“That was a risky move considering you hid in my room, in the dark. I may not have known the assault on my lips came from you.”

One of Grayson’s arms remain locked around my waist like I might vanish if he lets go. “No risk. You sense me from a distance, Violet.”

“True. But not at the distance you’ve kept from me in recent days.”

His eyes raise to mine.”Are you upset about my decision to tell Eloise?”

My lips thin. “Yes. But I’m focused on the aftermath of your actions. I can do little about that betrayal of trust. Where were you?”

Grayson winces. “Fair point. Does Dorian know what happened?”

“No, and that does not answer my question.”

“Is he close to discovering Viktor’s dead?”

“No. Are you choosing to be ambiguous? Answer the question.”

Grayson’s throat bobs. “Explain to me what happened after I left you in the woods.”

“Once you explain the same. I’ve awaited contact and received none. I feared the worst, and I am extremely unimpressed.”

He half-smiles and strokes a strand of hair from my face. “I missed you too.”

“Then why stay away? Where are the phone messages assuring me that you’re safe?”

“I don’t have a phone anymore.” He takes a shuddery breath. “Kiss me again.”

I open my mouth to demand he tell me what’s happening, and why he has no phone, but he drags me into another kiss that I struggle to emerge from. The half-created blood bond detects his emotional state and envelops me, as does the desire, but something more reaches me.

Grayson’s blood—and not the blood running in his veins.

Wriggling from his embrace, I step backward, almost hitting the closed door, and run a look down the length of him. The weirdly familiar tug at my chest comes from attraction to Grayson, but physical desire isn’t the reason for my scrutiny.

Grayson hasn’t changed his clothes since the morning that Viktor died, and they’re bloodied, with smears on his dark blue jeans. I’m flung back to that first time I walked into Grayson’s room, disorientated by the scent of his blood and the craving to taste him.

Him . In the early days, I convinced myself that I only longed for Grayson’s blood, nothing more, but that was never true. Every kiss between us reinforces this.

Since Grayson’s blood entered my veins, I’ve a stronger response to the scent, even more so when that blood spills. I cover my mouth and nose with a hand.

“You’re hurt,” I say. “Who?”

“I recovered.”

The dark anger surges. “Who? My father?”

He laughs, but the sound is hollow. “Your father wouldn’t stop at hurting me.”

“Where were you?” I repeat. “If you hid, how could anybody hurt you?”

Grayson drags a hand across the top of his head. “Simple. I chose the wrong place to hide.”

I don’t hear, immediately drawn to the vertical slashes along Grayson’s inner arm where claws or nails slashed through an artery. Darting forward, I grab his wrist and stare before taking his other arm and turning it over.

The injuries match. This wasn’t minor, otherwise Grayson would be fully healed by now.

“Grayson.” I tear my gaze from his arms to his face. “Did Josef kill you again?”

“Not quite. Lost a lot of blood.”

“And now you’re in the same state as the night at the warehouse?” I ask cautiously. “Is that the reason for your mysterious visit to my room? My blood? Please remember how that ended last time.”

But Grayson isn’t the crazed, starved hemia who stupidly attacked a hybrid. He’s controlled, his gaze remaining steady on mine.

“No.” Grayson closes the gap I put between us and runs the back of his fingers along my face, sending a familiar tingle through me. “I stayed away until it was safe.”

My brow tugs for a moment. “You worried you would attack me at first?”

“Not you. I stayed away from the outside world. I couldn’t go near anybody else after Josef’s assault,” he says quietly. “If I attacked someone for their blood, Dorian would have an even better excuse to kill me.”