Page 20 of Wicked Bonds (Serpentine Academy #1)

Eighteen

Rose

I need to get out of bed, I’ve already missed breakfast service, but instead I lie there, staring at the ceiling and replaying every word Drake said, looping in slow, sickening detail.

I try to imagine what it would feel like, being drained dry, not just of magic but of everything, of my life, until all that’s left is dust.

Doesn’t sound pleasant.

By the time my last class is over, I’m vibrating with a blend of rage and that slow, sick hatred for the one person who’s lied to me with a straight face and then acted like he was doing me a favor.

Lucien.

He doesn’t show up in the dining hall for lunch.

Come to think of it, I’ve never seen him there.

Fucker probably has a secret Batcave somewhere on campus where he sleeps upside down and drinks the blood of virgins.

I skip the Margherita pizza and honeycomb ice cream on the menu, which actually sounds delicious, pretending I don’t notice Thorne and her friends watching from across the dining hall and whispering behind their hands. Let them talk. Let them choke on it.

I don’t know where Lucien hides out. He’s not at the library, not prowling the faculty hallways, not lurking in any of the public lounges.

By mid-afternoon I’m running out of ideas.

I remember that daywalking for vamps is a thing.

But I’ve checked the quad and the courtyard to no avail.

I loiter outside the admin office until I see Mrs. Bright, then tail her down the corridor, staying just out of sight.

I spot her unlocking a heavy, dark wooden door at the end of the hall.

It’s labeled ‘Staff - Level 1 Clearance Only’.

She disappears inside with a clack of kitten heels, leaving the door to swing slowly shut.

I catch it with my foot, slip inside, and keep to the sides as she vanishes up a flight of stairs.

The residence is old-school, with threadbare red carpet, faded oil portraits, and a musty smell. The hall is lined with doors, helpfully with names listed on placards beside each one.

I pound on the door with the side of my fist, hard enough to make it rattle. “Open up,” I say. “I know you’re in there.”

There’s a pause. Then the lock clicks, and Lucien appears, rumpled but still impossibly put-together in a white shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. He doesn’t look surprised. “Miss Smith,” he says, cool as ever. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Save it,” I say, already pushing past him into the room. “I know the truth. I want to hear it from you this time, with no omissions or contractually mandated half-lies.”

His room is sparse, a tall shelf of books, a battered desk, a single chair, and a small table beside it, where there’s a book open face- down, and a bed that looks like it’s never been slept in. I clock the title of what he’s reading: The Jewel of Seven Stars by Bram Stoker.

Lucien closes the door with a soft click. “You’re upset.”

“No shit,” I say. “So were you not going to tell me what my contract with the Coven really does? That the bloodmark isn’t just a leash, or a way to use my powers?” I cross my arms so I don’t punch him. “The Coven is going to bleed me dry. Not just my magic, but everything. My life, my soul.

He watches me, unable to hide the split second of calculation in his eyes. He’s wondering how much I really know, how I know. “It’s?—”

“Stop,” I say. “You lied. All that bullshit about the Coven needing my ‘service,’ about magical contracts being unbreakable. You left out the part where they feed off us until we’re dead. And not at a ripe old age after a good long life. Two years. Two years , Lucien.”

He has the good grace to look slightly uncomfortable. “It isn’t as simple as that.”

“It feels pretty fucking simple.”

“Rose, if the Coven doesn’t have a source, the Accord fails. And if the Accord fails, the academy, the town, everyone under its protection is obliterated. I’m not exaggerating. Every supernatural predator this side of the hemisphere would descend on this place in a heartbeat.”

“Oh, so it’s the greater good,” I say. “How noble. Forgive me if I don’t give a shit about anyone here.

You’re all assholes, and you expect me to give my life up for over-privileged spoiled trust fund kids?

” I let out a deep breath through my nose.

“And you pretended to want to help me. You’re no better than any of them. In fact, you’re the worst.”

His eyes go dark red as merlot. “If I had told you everything, you would have run. And the headmistress would have sent someone to drag you back. Someone less concerned with your comfort or safety.”

“You mean someone who wouldn’t hesitate to kill me if I got too difficult.”

Lucien sighs, running a hand through his hair. “There is that, yes. The Coven wants your power, but it doesn’t necessarily need you alive. It’s preferred, but not crucial.”

“So why, Lucien? Why do you follow me around like a goddamn chaperone if this is all I am?”

“I could have let you break yourself trying to escape the Accord and be done with it. But I didn’t.”

“You’re still not telling me everything.”

He looks away. “I’m not allowed to.”

“Fuck allowed. This is my life you’re playing with, asshole.

” I’m so angry I could kill him with my bare hands.

“You care more about being a good lapdog than my health and safety, that’s pretty apparent.

You know nothing about who I am, or what I can do.

What if I told you that there is a way to break the Accord?

What if I told you that I’m going to do it? ”

He arches an eyebrow. “Then you’ll die. Like everyone else who tried.”

My hand itches to slap him, or maybe to grab his stupid, perfect face and shake the answers out.

Instead I pick up the nearest object, a paperweight, and hurl it at his head.

He dodges it, obviously, because he’s a vampire with superhuman speed, but the crash is spectacular. Lucien doesn’t flinch. “That’s mature,” he says.

I cross the room in two strides, get right in his face. “You think you get to decide how much of my life is worth telling the truth about? Fuck you.”

I shove him, hard. He moves only slightly so I shove him again, harder. “You know, I almost fell for it. Your nice guy act.”

He grabs my wrists roughly. “You want me to be the villain, Rose? Fine. I’m the villain. You want to hate me? Then hate me. Because you’re right. I’m anything but nice.”

I twist, trying to break his grip, and he pushes me back holding me in place with one hand while the other shoves a stray lock of hair out of his eyes.

“Let go of me,” I spit.

“No,” he says.

He’s close enough I can see the deeper flecks of deep red in his eyes and the faintest curl of his lip. I want to bite him.

The grip on my wrist is so tight I’m sure it will leave a bruise, but I hold his stare, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing fear. “What’s the matter, Lucien? Afraid of me?”

He laughs, and it’s mean. “You couldn’t hurt me if you tried.”

I’m a sucker for a challenge so I knee him in the crotch with everything I have. He doesn’t even blink, just tightens his hold and steps in until the space between us is less than a sliver. And my knee is now in fucking agony.

“You’re all the same,” I say. “You tell yourself you’re different. Better. But you’re just as fucking damaged as the rest of them.”

His eyes drift to my mouth, then back up. “You think you’re different, Rose? That you’re not just like every other little martyr who comes through this place, convinced you’re special?” His breath is cold and faintly minty.

“Wrong. I know I’m nothing special,” I say. “I’ve spent my whole life coming to terms with that. The difference between you and me is that I never wanted to be anything other than what I already was. I never deluded myself into thinking that I was better.”

He leans in, his lips brushing my ear. “Keep telling yourself that, Rose.” His voice is almost gentle, but there is an undercurrent of cruelness.

I snap my teeth at his ear like a feral cat, and he jerks back. At that moment I see the hunger in his face.

We’re so close I can feel the outline of his body, the hard line of his thigh pinning me to the desk. He wants me to back down, to give in.

I don’t. Not today.

“Let go,” I demand. My anger is snapping and clawing inside me, but there’s something else, too. Something that makes my insides churn in a way that is not entirely unpleasant. His proximity is distracting and I can’t think straight. My rage isn’t the only thing throbbing.

Lucien smiles slowly, like he can read my mind, and I see a flash of his fangs. “No,” he says. “Tell me what you’re going to do with all this,” he says. His hand is on my hip now, pressing me back, and I realize I’m both shivering and grinding against him. Not on purpose. Not exactly.

I want to scream at him. I want to claw his eyes out. I want to tear my own skin off so I don’t have to feel this, whatever this is.

Instead I say, “Let go or I’ll set you on fire.”

His eyes dance, amused. “You don’t have the control.”

“Exactly,” I say, and dig my nails into his arm until I feel them break. “One out of control witchy wildfire is coming your way, motherfucker. I squeeze the magic in me, and for a crazy second I imagine it sparking out through my hands and lighting him up like a bonfire.

But before I can, his mouth crashes down on mine

The kiss is savage. It hurts. It’s brutal, and there’s nothing sweet about it.

He doesn’t coax, or ask nicely, he just takes.

It’s a fistfight, a brawl. I bite his lower lip, and he makes a noise deep in his throat that’s half a growl, half a moan.

He pushes me back, hands hard on my hips, and just like that I’m sitting on the edge of the desk, knees parting as he steps between them, pinning me with his whole body.

I want to slap him, and I want to fuck him, and right now I’m not sure which urge is stronger.

His hands slide up my arms, as the smell of him, vetiver and mint, shorts out my brain. My hips roll up towards him instinctively.

Lucien’s hand fists in my hair, yanking my head back so he can bite down my throat.

His lips are hot and rough, scraping along the tendon, finding the soft spot at the base of my neck where the pulse flutters.

He’s so close to losing it I can feel his fangs graze my skin, not quite piercing, just enough to tease.

I gasp, arching into him, and my whole body goes slick with heat. I don’t care that he’s angry, that I’m angry.

He bites down. Not enough to break the skin, but enough that my knees nearly give out.

I claw at his back, digging my nails in, and he responds by sliding his hands under my ass and drawing me to him.

I hook my ankles behind him and grind against him shamelessly, wondering if he can sense how wet I am through my jeans.

He’s shaking, and I realize with a vicious satisfaction that I’m the one making him lose control. The ever-in-control Lucien, always so stoic and composed, is losing his self-control, and that’s a power I never expected to have.

For all his centuries of discipline, Lucien is on the edge of something untamed and ugly and the opposite of everything he tries to be, and I’m the one who put him there.

I lean back, panting, and stare at him from an inch away. “You’re not supposed to want this,” I say, and it comes out as a taunt, not a question.

“I don’t,” he grits out.

“Liar.” I push his chest, just to feel the muscle tense under my palms. He doesn’t move, but his eyes narrow, and for a second I think he’ll plunge those fangs into my jugular and be done with it.

But then it’s like the realization of what he’s doing dawns, and his pupils contract into tiny pinpoints. There it is.

I wrench myself free of him, shoving with all the force I have left in my arms and legs. Lucien lets go, not resisting at all this time. He stands there, eyes locked on me as if he’s at war with his own body.

“I will set your fucking balls on fire if you ever touch me again,” I say.

I look him straight in the eye with as much disinterest as I can manage, considering every bone in my body is screaming at me to push him down on the bed and tear his clothes off right this minute.

But hell no, I will not give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

And me and my stupid body are going to have a talk about why we should absolutely not want to fuck vampires, especially lying vampires like Lucien.

He says nothing as I straighten my hair, walk to the door, and leave, slamming it shut behind me.

I make it back to my dorm room before my knees feel like they’re going to give out.