Page 8

“What the fuck are you going to do about it?”

Avril’s voice echoed in the room as she stormed through the doors.

I leaned with careful disdain against a scarred wooden table, and my hand grazed over tomes marked with arcane symbols of power.

“You’re not really in a position to be making demands,” I said.

Avril glared back at me.

“Aren’t I?”

Mud spattered her bare legs, and she had ruined her satin slippers. There was a cut on her ankle and the blood had dried into a dark smear that disappeared into her shoe.

The cashmere sweater dress covered far less than she thought it did. It would have been easy to bend her over and take what I wanted.

“She looks like she’s been running around in the woods,” Bastian said.

Avril flinched but only a little, and her gaze didn’t falter.

She was different—our little bird—the grimoire had changed her.

But it wasn’t just that.

The blood she’d spilled and the magic she’d taken in the catacombs beneath the cemetery had changed her.

Good.

Finally.

“You have to do something,” she said. “You promised to protect me. You swore an oath—”

I was getting tired of this.

“We did,” I said.

“An oath you can’t break—”

Her voice was desperate.

Music to my ears.

She’d agreed to so many things when she was desperate.

Debased herself so many times… and she’d gotten nothing in return but our promises.

But since she’d laid this curse on us—since she’d drawn our blood vow—she’d become more irritating.

More demanding.

And she knew we couldn’t refuse.

Valen wouldn’t have needed the blood bond. He would have done anything she said.

Bastian wasn’t far behind.

The pull of the spell was strong—stronger than it should have been.

“What do you want us to do?” Bastian asked. “Tell us.”

She spun around to look at him, her auburn hair flying as she turned. “I want you to keep Lucian away from me,” she hissed. “And help me escape this place—”

Bastian laughed. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am,” she insisted. “You can’t— You can’t just stand by and watch this happen—”

“Use the grimoire,” I interrupted. “You haven’t unlocked all of its power yet… you’re holding back. You could have so much more power if you just…”

Her hands clenched into fists. “And how would I do that?” she snarled. “Would you bring me a sacrifice? Would you bring me some poor witch from the streets of Messana and let me kill her and drain her power?”

Bastian’s smile was sharp. “That’s not a half-bad idea…”

Rage twisted across her features, striking in its intensity. “You said the words— You swore!”

I watched Bastian, feline in his movements, pacing at the room’s edge. The dagger in his hand tapped rhythmically against the wall as he walked, and Avril flinched with every scrape of the metal against stone.

“Or,” he said, drawing the word out with tantalizing delay, “we can use what you’ve learned to turn Lucian’s magic against him.” His grin was a slash of white in the dimness.

She looked horrified at the prospect. “He’ll kill me and you know it.”

“He’ll kill us all,” I snapped as I glared across the room at my brother.

Bastian shrugged. “Maybe. But maybe not— If all of us—”

“Shut your mouth,” I growled.

We couldn’t talk about that here.

I didn’t even want to think it.

Our father had grown more paranoid, more volatile— more dangerous. And I wasn’t as certain that he was unaware of our plans.

His magic had only grown in the last weeks, and the purges had brought him a different sort of power.

Fear.

Obedience.

The devotion of the most zealous of his followers.

Soon, he would be unstoppable.

And there was no way to predict what he would do to reach his dark goals.

Or who he would sacrifice.

My eyes raked over Avril’s form and met her wide hazel eyes.

No.

That was a lie.

I knew who would be sacrificed.

I’d always known.

The only difference was—I didn’t want to let it happen.

And thanks to her damned blood bond, I couldn’t let it happen.

Thanks to the blood bond, I could sense other things, too.

Fear.

Defiance.

A tremor of lust.

She belonged to us just as surely as we belonged to her.

I didn’t want to admit it, but it was true.

I held the silence like a vice as I focused on the young witch at the center of the room. Avril trembled like the candlelight. She hadn’t made a choice.

Not yet.

“What’s it going to be?” Bastian’s voice was a silken threat and the blade in his hand tapped against stone in time with each word.

His blond hair fell in careless curls over his forehead and his pale eyes glittered with mischief and malice.

“Don’t leave us hanging.”

He moved closer.

The dagger twirled between his fingers, a quicksilver gleam that sang through the air before he slammed it into the scarred tabletop. He released it, and the blade quivered in the wood.

He could be so dramatic.

Avril bit down hard on her lower lip, but her chin lifted.

Bastian was just toying with her.

I could hear his voice in my head already: “Everyone has their hobbies, brother.”

“You can feel it, can’t you?” I said in a low voice and Avril’s eyes met mine, but some of her initial boldness was gone.

Good. She had to know who was in control here.

She shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Liar.

I’d seen her use the grimoire—she knew what was hidden between its ancient pages. And what it could do.

“The power you were meant to have,” I replied. “The Grimoire chose you, Avril.” Her name tasted sweet and dangerous on my tongue. I let it linger and savored the way it filled the room. “If you don’t let it in, Lucian will take everything from you.”

Her eyes flickered, a momentary spark. I felt the anger behind her gaze, sharp and accusing, as if she hoped it might wound me. But I welcomed it.

Better anger than fear.

Fear wouldn’t get her through what was coming.

Bastian draped himself across one of the leather chairs, lounging as if the decision meant nothing to him.

But I saw the way he watched her.

Hunger and amusement danced across his too-innocent face. It was all a game to him, one he’d rigged to entertain himself no matter how it played out.

“I don’t think she wants to play,” he said, his voice mocking and sweet. “Maybe Avi’s happy being a puppet...”

Her lips tightened at his words, then set in a stubborn line.

“You’ve seen what Lucian can do,” I pressed, not letting her look away. Not letting her hide. “But you haven’t seen anything. Not yet. Do you think you’ll be spared?”

“I know I won’t be,” she said. “That’s why I need your help— He murders the women he marries, isn’t that how it works?”

She was so close to the truth. Even Bastian’s pale eyes had turned wary.

“My mother was murdered,” she said. “Valen’s, too.” She paused and glanced at Bastian before looking back at me. “What happened to your mother?” she asked.

It was a demand more than a question.

“Careful,” Bastian muttered.

She didn’t seem ready to back down. “Well?”

Bastian’s pale eyes flickered to me, and then he reached for the dagger and wrenched it out of the table.

He slipped the dagger into the folds of his shirt where the sheath was strapped against his ribs—as it always was.

“She’s too innocent for that story,” Bastian taunted, breaking the silence. He was trying to sound casual, but I could hear the anger in his tone. Barely hidden. “Maybe you should fly away while you can, little bird.”

I knew the fury those words would ignite in her. The helpless rage.

“Tell me,” she snapped. “I need to know.”

Bastian unfolded himself from the chair and ambled over to her.

He moved behind her to embrace her and trapped her against his chest with one arm. With the other, he pulled the dagger from its sheath and dragged its tip along her skin. Though I could see his enjoyment in tormenting her, she remained unflinching.

“Do you really?” Bastian’s voice curled around her like smoke, its tendrils wicked and inviting. “Our mother, Mariam, was a powerful witch. One of the strongest of Lucian’s supporters. She was everything to him.”

The dagger lifted her hair, strands slipping between the point and the long, white neck it bared. His breath was a whisper against her ear. “She was taken by the Sages. She was imprisoned… Tortured.” His other hand palmed her breast, squeezing as her breath quickened and the blade of the knife scraped over her smooth flesh.

The bastard reveled in her discomfort.

He pulled her close, and the firelight illuminated every tremor, every shiver, and as he pulled her back, her sweater dress rode up her thighs and exposed more flesh to my gaze.

She was frightened. But her eyes were furious when they met mine.

Bastian laughed, a sound too bright for the heavy gloom. He twirled the dagger with a flick of his wrist; the tip scraped deliberately across her skin and drew a thin line of red. “Lucian couldn’t save her from the Sages… He tried to rescue her, but she was too far gone. They’d tried to cleanse her of the grimoire’s influence… Don’t you think they’d do the same to you? Even if you do escape Withermarsh— You’ll be hunted by the sorcerers who taught you—raised you.”

He held her tighter, delighting in the violence his words inflicted as she tried to turn away.

I observed her carefully and relished the way her eyes widened with shock as Bastian’s words sank in. She had to know that she wouldn’t be safe with the Sages. They would turn on her just as quickly. And with the same venom. She was one of us now.

Marked.

Cursed.

The story of my mother’s death didn’t wound me as much as it had when I was younger.

When I was a child, it had almost broken me.

I’d listened to my father’s wails and curses for weeks and pledged my own revenge against the Sages and their corruptions.

But Lucian had done nothing.

He hadn’t sought revenge. Or justice.

Until now.

Maybe that was why I was stalling.

“This doesn’t have to be a struggle, Avril,” I said, cool and relentless. “Let us help you.”

Bastian’s lips brushed her neck, the barest contact. “He’s good with his promises, isn’t he, sister?”

Bastian held her like a lover. Like an enemy.

Like he was both and couldn’t care which.

The pulse beat in her throat, fast and wild, and knew it was only a matter of time before she gave in. He dragged the dagger down, a snake’s slow slide, savoring the way it made her tense beneath him. I couldn’t decide if he was torturing her or me.

I almost smiled.

The room contracted around us, oppressive and intimate, until there was nothing left but the three of us and the promise that she would break.

But Avril wasn’t the fragile bird she’d been when she first arrived at Withermarsh.

She was something different now.

“You want me to give in to the Grimoire?” she asked.

“We never said it would be easy,” Bastian crooned, and I heard the admiration beneath his mockery.

“I— If it’s the only way—” she said, and though her voice shook, it held its own kind of strength.

Bastian released her, pushing her forward, and then caught her again.

I let her think the decision was hers. I let her think there was a choice.

Bastian wound his fingers through her hair, tugging it so her head tilted back and her sweater slipped down to expose her shoulder.

The cut on her collarbone was dark and perfect. Barely a drop of blood spilled.

“It’s the only way,” I said. “If you want to survive, you have to do your part. You have to be strong enough—”

As I observed, Bastian continued to touch and caress her before he pulled her down into his lap in a chair.

She didn’t struggle, and her head fell back as Bastian fumbled with his belt to free his cock.

Her lips parted as her dress rode up her thighs. She sank down on his hard length with a groan, and Bastian grinned as he gripped her waist.

The dagger clattered to the stone floor as he turned his focus to Avril’s movements as she rose up on her knees and then eased down again—slow and deliberate.

Bastian’s breath hissed between his teeth as she moved and her breaths became ragged.

I circled around the chair and gripped Avril’s throat. Her eyes widened, but didn’t leave mine as Bastian thrust up into her.

“Make your choice,” I demanded. “You can have it all— or you can have nothing and we’ll leave you to Lucian’s mercy.”

Bastian grunted as he fucked her hard, and I flexed my hand around Avril’s throat as she struggled to take a full breath.

Pleasure mingling with pain.

Bastian cradled her like a porcelain doll, his hands both gentle and destructive as he pulled her arms behind her back and held her wrists tight. She was bare-shouldered and trembling, her skin pale and luminous against the shadows.

“Just say the word,” Bastian grunted. She was strung between us, poised on the precipice of her own undoing.

Her hesitation was exquisite. Teetering on the brink of oblivion.

“We can give you more power than Lucian ever could,” I said.

Her pulse was rapid beneath my palm.

Her breath hitched, the briefest hesitation before she leaned into it, leaned into me.

“Yes,” she gasped. I relaxed my grip and she let out a cry as Bastian thrust hard and deep into her.

Bastian’s laughter filled the space, triumphant and wild. He pressed his mouth to her neck, drinking in the thrill of her submission, while Avril’s head fell back and her body tightened in climax.

Avril’s head turned to me and she reached out.

“Greedy girl,” Bastian grunted.

“Yes,” she gasped. “Titus—”

I didn’t need her to beg. I walked around the chair and reached down to grab her waist. Bastian groaned as I pulled her off his cock, but he didn’t try to stop me.

Avril let out a gasp as I threw her against the scarred wooden table and she gripped the edge as I unbuckled my belt and pushed my jeans down. She lifted one knee to the edge of the table, opening her pussy for me.

I stroked my hand quickly over my cock and with a groan I couldn’t bite back in time; I thrust into her hot depths.

“That’s it,” I said, as her inner muscles clenched around me.

I drove deep into her and Avril’s cry tore through the air as she gripped the table until her knuckles were white. Her body arched against me with every thrust and Bastian was there, watching us both closely. A wicked smile played across his face as he pushed his hand into Avril’s hair and tightened his grip. He bent her back so he could fondle her breasts, tormenting her until she was shuddering beneath me.

“Fucking perfect,” Bastian said, his voice low and rough.

Her breath came in ragged gasps, but she didn’t beg for release, didn’t try to pull away even when I reached between us to find her clit and rubbed it in harsh little circles that made her clench hard around my cock.

“You want more?” I asked, knowing already what the answer would be.

“Please—” she groaned.

I slammed harder into her before she could say anything else. She didn’t hold back this time. Her body shuddered, and she cried out, clutching desperately at the table as if it was the only thing anchoring her to this world.

Every thrust dragged her closer to the edge, every punishing stroke pushing her further from the girl she’d been. I watched her lose herself, felt her surrender beneath me, and couldn’t decide which was sweeter: the way she strained against my control or the way she finally gave in to it.

She was intoxicating.

“So much stronger than you let on,” Bastian said with a breathless laugh, “and just as hungry.”

The black smoke of Bastian’s magic wound around her throat, tightening and relaxing in rhythmic waves to drive her pleasure higher. Bastian stroked his cock in front of Avril’s lips. My thrusts drove her onto it, choking her as Bastian pushed his hips forward to fill her mouth and fuck her throat.

His head fell back and Avril moaned as he filled her throat with his cum. When he pulled out, it drooled from her lips and onto the table and the stone floor as I fucked her hard. Her body shuddered at the edge of her release, and then Avril gasped again as I drove deep and held there. Her silken depths tightened around me in a way that was almost painful—almost—before I came with a guttural groan.

Avril trembled beneath my weight, shuddering and gasping for air as her climax rippled through her.

“You’re going to be one of us,” Bastian murmured as he bent close enough to kiss her shoulder. “I knew you had it in you.”

I pulled out of her and watched the way she sagged against the table before straightening with that same quiet dignity that made me want to break her all over again.

“We wouldn’t let Lucian have you,” Bastian said, his voice low and intense now. Avril’s head turned toward him sharply as she tugged her ruined cashmere down over her ass. She didn’t quite believe him yet. But she would.

My cum dripped down her leg, but she didn’t flinch.

She rubbed the back of her hand over her mouth and met my gaze.

“Keep your promise,” she said. She pushed away from the table and walked on unsteady legs toward the library door without looking back at us. Bastian rubbed a hand through his hair and chuckled.

“We’ve created a monster.”

He didn’t sound too upset.

But he was right…

Maybe we had.