Page 18

“If it happens again, I’ll tear your head from your neck,” I say.

I flick the piece of paper toward him, and he barely manages to catch it before it hits the ground.

I wait until he’s righted himself to continue.

“Grocery list. Find what you can here in the Echo. The rest, have Amelia take you to the human world.”

The human straightens, chest puffing out with determined confidence. I’m sending him to the market, not into fucking battle, but I suppose he’s just relieved to be breathing.

Once he’s gone, I journey from the library to Grace’s room. Oskar stands at his usual post, and he smiles as I approach.

“Training?” he asks. He raises an eyebrow. “I thought you gave Cora the day off?”

“I did,” I say. I can’t keep the bitterness from edging my voice. Grace should be training today, but instead…

I knock on her cell door, only pausing for three seconds before opening it. She’s in bed— shocking —but at least she’s awake. The electronic sits beside her, and a movie plays on the screen.

“Get up,” I tell her.

To my surprise, she does. She closes the laptop and crawls out from the covers, wearing a black frock. It’s one of Cora’s, but it’s too short on Grace. She looks downright seductive, her long legs on full-display, her arms crossed, pressing her cleavage together.

Maybe new clothes won’t be so terrible after all.

“Well?” she asks.

Her word is a sharp blade, grating against my last fucking nerve. Despite our last encounter, she doesn’t look afraid of me. No, she looks pissed yet confident, as if she holds some unseen power over me.

Maybe she does , a voice taunts. Maybe it’s her game, and you’re the pawn.

I shake my head roughly, banishing the thought like an unwanted pest.

“Show me magic,” I say roughly. “Give me something , Grace, and you can have something off the list. New clothes. Better food. More entertainment.”

“Freedom?” she asks. She arches a defiant eyebrow, and I have to restrain the growl from escaping my throat.

“Your so-called freedom would last ten seconds,” I say. “ You wouldn’t make it to the end of the hallway before someone had you spread out and bleeding.”

Her jaw clenches, and I can hear her teeth grinding.

“That sounds like a convenient excuse for keeping me locked away,” she says.

I’m in front of her before she can blink, and she gasps, falling back against the stone wall. I have her exactly where I did last night, only now, I keep myself from touching her, from encroaching her space.

“I would’ve had you,” I whisper. Goosebumps dance across her shoulders, and I watch them, rather than her face. “You’d be dead.”

“You forget I’ve taken you down twice,” she says. “Maybe you’d be dead.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” I say. I finally look into her eyes. Dark blue. Violent flame. It tempts a smile from my lips, but I resist the urge. “Magic is nothing if you can’t control it, Grace. Ask the Nectoa.”

“The what?”

“The beast,” I say. “The spider that attacked you.”

“That you attacked me with,” she corrects. She holds my gaze, nose scrunched in disgust.

“I’ll tell you what,” I say, choosing to ignore that statement. “If you can prove you can handle yourself, I’ll grant you free reign of the manor.”

“Really?” she asks. Her eyes light, and a brilliant smile breaks her heavy scowl.

Fuck . I haven’t seen her smile like that since the bar. Back then, she didn’t know to fear me. To hate me.

“Yes,” I say. I keep my voice, my face, carefully blank. “If you can consistently bring me to my knees, you can explore all the dusty crevices of this place.”

“Okay,” she says. She’s still beaming at me, and it’s taking all my focus not to look at her mouth. “Okay, yeah. I can do that.”

“Five times minimum.”

“Can I try now?” she asks. She’s literally bouncing on her toes, as if she’s momentarily forgotten I’m the one trapping her here at all.

I take a step away, giving her space to move from the wall. She levels her feet shoulder-width apart and closes her eyes. Palms toward me, she scrunches her entire face as she concentrates.

Nothing happens.

We stand like this for a long time. Long enough, I finally allow myself a glance at her mouth. Her lips look soft, full, so fucking delicious I’m desperate to bite them. I’d happily bite any part of her. Her neck, her tits, her stomach, her thighs.

Fuck.

I fed this morning, but I’m clearly overdue. I need to eat more when she’s here. I make a mental note to do just that, and then I spend the next several minutes studying the ceiling of Grace’s bedroom.

I’m surprised nicer quarters weren’t on her damned list. Clothes.

Entertainment. Food. But apparently this dingy closet-sized room is adequate for her.

I glance at her twin-sized bed. I don’t recognize the blankets—I have no idea where Beatrice found them.

They look old though, as if she dragged them out of a dusty attic.

She probably did.

I make another mental note, and then, I feel it. The softest pinch in my stomach that radiates down to my knees. It’s not enough to make me fall, but I have to shift my weight to keep from losing my balance.

Grace’s eyes are still closed. Her mouth is moving silently, and I can’t decide if she’s muttering a spell or if she’s giving herself a pep talk. I doubt Cora has taught her a spell though. That’s too advanced, and the reminder pangs my stomach far harder than Grace’s attempt at magic.

We have so much work cut out for us, and if the witches realize she exists, we might not have the time to accomplish it.

“C’mon, Grace,” I bark. Her magic fades from my skin, but I push harder. “Do it. Think of how much you hate me.”

Her eyes flash open. Gone is the excitement, the twinkle of determination. The blue flames are back, framed by her slanted blonde eyebrows.

“Trust me, I’m always thinking how much I hate you,” she says. She closes her eyes again, but her face remains strained. “That’s not the problem.”

“Then what?” I goad. “You’re too weak? Too soft?”

“Maybe,” she mutters.

I suck in a deep breath, even though I shouldn’t. Her scent fills the entire room, and this close, I can hear each pulse of her heart. Warm, decadent blood. So close, so devastatingly delicious.

“Fuck that,” I say. “You’re not. You tore a hole through my chest. You threw me across the room. So do it. Enough with the excuses. Make me?—”

Her magic rams against me like a drunkard, clumsy but effective.

I don’t fall to my knees. It’s not a strong enough wave to fully take me down.

It is enough to send me staggering across the room.

My legs feel unsteady, like they’re not entirely my own.

I don’t stop moving until I’ve crashed against the opposite wall.

Almost immediately, Grace releases her hold on me. She leans forward, dropping her hands to her knees. Through heavy breaths, she stares at me, eyes bright with triumph .

“That’s one,” she says. She’s grinning, even as she gasps for air. “Only four more.”

“The challenge is to bring me to my knees,” I say. I make a grand gesture toward my legs. “Clearly, I’m not on my knees.”

“Oh come on,” she says. Her voice pitches. She rises to her full height, only to slump back against the stone wall. “I still took you down! I moved you across a room—and on command!”

“I know,” I say. My lips quirk into a lopsided smile. “And it’s good. It’s progress.”

She rolls her eyes and starts for the bed, face already morphing into a scowl.

“What, no clothes then?” I ask.

Once again, her eyes spark, and for the moment, her demand of freedom is forgotten.