Page 23

DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT

GRACE

S ebastian looks good on his knees.

It’s not the most practical thought when I’m supposed to be concentrating. Cora has us stationed in the middle of the auditorium, a large room, but still a fraction the size of the ballroom. Sebastian is on his knees, and I stand before him, palms aimed at his shoulders.

He looks stunning. Dark blond hair tousled, mussed from where he’s run his hand through it too many times. Sharp jawline highlighted by the sunlight pooling through the window. Green eyes turned up at me, gazing like he’s at my mercy.

He’s not.

It’s only an illusion.

I stretch my fingers, flaying my hands as wide as they’ll go. Cora said it can help distribute the magic. I’m not convinced, and not only because I’ve failed every single exercise we’ve attempted today.

“All right, center yourself,” Cora coaches from the wall. She’s standing far enough away that when I look down, it’s only Sebastian I see, as if we are alone .

My thoughts try to run from me. They’ve been doing that often, especially in the days since he watched a movie with me. He’s been different since that day, and my mind keeps forgetting it’s not reality.

I might be stupid, but I’m not a fool. I know when I’m being played, and Sebastian the Vampire King is playing me.

He’s trying to be buddy-buddy so I let my guard down and erupt with magical powers—or whatever the hell is supposed to happen.

He, like Cora and Oskar and everyone else, thinks my magic comes down to mental energy.

I haven’t admitted this out loud yet, but I’m still questioning whether I’m the person they think I am. What if Walter Pruce wasn’t actually my father? What if I’m just a half-witch he happened to discover on the East coast during his travels? And what if?—

“Focus, Grace!”

I try. I really do. It’s just hard when Sebastian is gazing up at me, looking far more man than he does vampire. He’s unjustly good-looking. He might be faking being a decent person, but there’s nothing fake about how good he looks right now.

I can imagine this scene unraveling in a completely different way. Instead of keeping him on his knees with magic, I do it with charm alone. I rest my foot on his shoulder, let him kiss my inner thigh, all the way up to my center. My core clenches just at the thought of his tongue meeting my clit.

I wonder if he’s good at it.

He must be. He’s a vampire, damn it. He’s probably had a hundred years of practice.

Then again, vampires tend to move in hyperspeed, and maybe sex is no different. He’d come before I realized we’d even started .

“On the count of three,” Cora says. Her voice breaks through my spiraling thoughts, but it’s far too late.

The goal of this exercise is to keep Sebastian on his knees.

It’s supposedly easier than knocking him down, but so far, I’ve yet to restrain him.

And now that my mind has drifted, I’m royally screwed.

I’m definitely not centered, but I can’t let them know that.

I glare at my hands, like I’m deep in concentration, furrowing my brows for full effect.

“One,” she says. Her voice echoes to the high-arched ceilings. “Two. Three!”

My magic is nothing but a buzz in my fingertips. It’s the most pathetic attempt I’ve had out of the ten we’ve done this hour. Sebastian rises to his feet as if I haven’t touched him, and I’m honestly not sure I have.

I drop my hands, gasping for breath. My magic barely made an appearance, and yet, I’m exhausted. My clothes are damp with sweat, and there are droplets—actual droplets —of moisture on my forehead. Thank god I opted not to wear makeup, otherwise it’d be all over my face.

“Pathetic!” Cora screams. “That was the worst one yet.”

“I know,” I say. It comes out as a groan. “It’s not working.”

“That’s because you’re not trying,” she snaps. She pushes from the wall and starts toward us, only to stop when Sebastian lifts a hand.

He closes the distance between us, studying my face.

“You were distracted,” he says.

“I’m exhausted ,” I correct.

“Distracted,” he repeats. Then, his mouth slants in a devious smirk. He lifts an eyebrow in challenge. “What were you thinking about Grace?”

“The same thing I’ve been thinking about since we got here,” I say adamantly, but my heart races all the same. I don’t think vampires can read minds. No, they can’t. I would have realized by now. I swallow, clenching my teeth. “I’m trying to keep your ass on the floor, but it’s not working.”

“Careful, Gracie,” Cora calls out. “Master will rip your pretty little head off if you talk like that.”

“I won’t. And you won’t speak another word of it,” Sebastian says. He turns toward Cora, posture stiff. I wait for him to threaten her head, just as he did to Beatrice, but he only says, “You’re dismissed, Cora. We’ll meet again tomorrow.”

Her large dark eyes bounce from Sebastian, to me, then back to Sebastian. Her lips part, as if to say something, only for her to decide better. She bows her head and exits the room without another word.

“It doesn’t bother me,” I tell him once she’s gone. When Sebastian’s eyes meet mine, I elaborate. “The threats. I know you guys can’t kill me yet.”

“We are not going to kill you. Ever.”

The intensity of his voice flips my stomach, and I try desperately to stay in reality. He’s playing me. I’m being played. It’s not true.

“And it does bother you. Your heart raced when she said it,” he says. He smiles again, giving me an almost coy look. “I’m quite observant, you see. I notice when things change. Sights. Sounds. Smells .”

“What are you saying?” I ask. It’s the most I can say, because if he’s implying what I think he is, I’m going to throw myself off the nearest cliff.

Another grin.

“Your heart is racing again,” he says. He steps closer, hands tucked into his pockets. He’s the picture of nonchalance. With a teasing wink, he adds, “I wonder why.”

“Sebastian,” I say, unable to keep the horror from my voice.

“You smell fucking perfect,” he says. The amusement drains from his face, replaced with something unreadable. “Truly, Grace. You have no idea how much I’d like to spread you across this floor and taste where you’re yearning for me.”

Anguish, I decide. That’s a look of anguish on his face, as if he’s disgusted by me, the fact I’m wet for him, the fact he’d like to taste it.

“Who says it’s for you?” I snap.

“Fair enough.” His jaw muscle ticks, eyes hardening as he looks at me. “I like to imagine it anyway.”

“I’m sure you do,” I say. My face must be bright red, and I blink to keep the tears from falling.

I’m pathetic. The fact I can even get turned on by someone like him is humiliating enough, but now he’s bringing it up? Shoving it in my face, ensuring I know he sees right through me?”

“Grace,” he says, just as I choke through a sob. “Hells, I wasn’t?—”

“Of course you were,” I snap. “This must be so entertaining for you! Such a good ego boost, as if you need one. You’re holding me prisoner, locked up and kept while I’m useful.

I know you’re going to kill me, Sebastian.

I should hate you. I do hate you, and yet, here I am, getting wet just looking at you.

Makes you feel good, doesn’t it? Doesn’t it! ”

I’m screaming by the end. I don’t realize it until I’ve stopped and a deafening silence surrounds us. My throat burns as tears stream down my face.

Oh god, as if my nonexistent magic wasn’t enough reason for him to kill me.

Sebastian’s jaw is still clenched, the muscle there twitching as he steps closer. Both hands find my face, thumbs resting on my cheekbones. I might be imagining it, but it almost feels like his hands are shaking .

“No,” he whispers finally. “No, it doesn’t make me feel good.”

I don’t say anything. I’m still heaving, struggling to get my breath under control.

“I don’t like this, Grace,” he says. “I don’t like that I need you to break this curse. I don’t like needing anyone, and I hate that it’s you. I hate that you’re nice and sweet and pretty, and that I’m crumbling you bit by bit, day by day. I hate it.

“But I do need you,” he whispers. “I need you, and I want you, and it fucks with my head. I wasn’t mocking you for getting turned on. I liked it. I wanted you to invite me to do exactly as I offered.”

I try to swallow. It doesn’t work. My throat is too dry. I try to remember the last time I had water, if only to keep myself from looking at his lips.

Wasn’t I wondering what it would be like? Would it be so terrible to know?

“But I can’t touch you,” he whispers. He releases my face and steps back. “Because I need you, and you…you need to focus.”

He walks to the far wall, only pausing once he’s nearly reached the door. He holds an open palm toward me in invitation.

“Let’s call it a day,” he says finally. Then, almost as an afterthought, he adds, “For the record, I am not going to kill you, Grace. If we work together, we’ll break the curse. After that, I’ll help you go wherever you want. Back to the human world. Over to the witches. Whatever you want.”

I stand frozen, and he gestures again.

“Come,” he says, clearing his throat. He runs a hand through his hair, looking at the exit instead of me. “We’ll pretend it never happened.”

Maybe he will, but something tells me I won’t be able to. Every time we do this stupid exercise, I’ll be thinking about it. About him.

It’s going better. Three days after getting turned on by Sebastian and him freaking smelling it, our training is going better.

I don’t know if I believe his vow not to kill me.

Actually, scratch that, I definitely don’t believe his vow.

I think he’ll let me live as long as it’s convenient.

If it’s anything more than a slight nuisance, I assume the promise won’t stand.

With these people, all it takes is a split second of anger, of impulse, and someone is dead.

“One more time?” Cora asks.