Page 21 of Wicked Bonds (Serpentine Academy #1)

Nineteen

Lucien

I touch my fingers to my mouth, still tasting her lips, all that rage and fire that makes my fangs ache to descend.

The scratches she left on my arms have already healed, but I can still feel them, phantom marks that shouldn’t matter to someone who’s survived centuries of actual wounds.

I straighten my shirt, smooth my hair, and leave my quarters with what dignity I can salvage.

The corridor stretches ahead, mercifully empty, which I’m thankful for.

I need the walk to Wickersly’s office to rebuild the walls Rose just demolished with her fury and her mouth and her absolute refusal to be intimidated.

Hundreds of years of discipline, and it takes one infuriating girl to make me lose control like some newly-turned fledgling.

I’ve been the Coven’s attendant for so long I’d forgotten what it felt like to want something for myself. No, that’s a lie. I’d trained myself not to want, because wanting leads to this, standing in an empty hallway with the taste of her skin still on my lips.

She knows now. About the true cost of the Accord. The anger in her eyes when she’d realized my omission, it wasn’t just indignation at being lied to. It was the particular rage of someone who’d almost trusted, almost let herself believe someone might actually help her without ulterior motives.

And who told her? Not Wickersly, who guards that secret like a dragon hoards gold. Not the faculty, all bound by their own contracts to keep silent. Not Soren, who’d gain nothing from revealing it.

Drake.

Of course. The ghost who haunts these halls with his bitterness.

The one who died trying to break free of the very contract that binds Rose now.

I’d dismissed him as harmless, a melancholy specter more interested in self-pity than action.

But he’s been visiting her room, hasn’t he?

Whispering truths in the dark, playing the tragic hero to her damsel in distress, Tristan to her Isolde.

The realization makes my teeth grind. Drake can slip through walls, lurk unseen, gather secrets. He’s been here long enough to know where all the bodies are buried, literally and figuratively. And now he’s focused on Rose, drawn to her like every other dangerous thing in this place.

But Drake’s interest isn’t purely altruistic.

No ghost lingers this long without unfinished business.

He wants something from Rose, and given what happened to him, I can guess what.

He wants her to succeed where he failed.

He wants her to break the Accord, consequences be damned.

He wants to see the Coven and the academy annihilated.

A witch stumbles out of a classroom ahead, takes one look at me, and immediately presses herself against the wall to let me pass.

My mood must be transmitting like a radio signal.

Usually, I maintain better control, keep the monster tucked away behind civil smiles and measured words.

But Rose has a talent for stripping away pretense, for finding the exposed nerves and pressing.

The way she’d arched against me, nails digging in even as she’d threatened to set me on fire. She’d meant it too. If she had better control of her magic, I’d probably be healing burns right now instead of just wounded pride.

Wickersly won’t be pleased when she finds out.

Not about the kiss, I’m not telling her about that, but about Rose knowing the truth.

The Headmistress prefers her pawns ignorant until the last possible moment.

Easier to manage, easier to sacrifice. But Rose was never going to be easy to manage.

That should have been clear from the moment she showed up with her battered bag and her refusal to be intimidated by anything or anyone.

I turn the corner toward the administrative wing, and collide with something solid, someone solid, which shouldn’t be possible. I’m a vampire. I don’t collide. I sense heartbeats from rooms away, smell blood through walls. But Soren has always been an exception to rules.

The incubus straightens his jacket, that insufferable smirk already curling his lips. His nostrils flare slightly, and his eyes brighten with unholy amusement.

“Well, well,” he says, voice dripping with satisfaction. “Someone’s been naughty.”

I curse internally. Of course he can smell her on me. Incubi and their damned senses, attuned to desire and lust like sharks to blood in the water. There’s no point denying it. Soren already knows exactly what happened, probably down to every detail.

“Don’t,” I say, but Soren’s grin only widens.

“Oh, this is tasty.” He circles me slowly, like a predator who’s found wounded prey. “The great Lucien, the Coven’s perfect soldier, absolutely reeking of frustrated desire and,” he inhales deeply, “is that guilt I detect? How wonderfully flesh-and-blood of you.”

Any reaction will only encourage him. But the urge to slam him against the wall is strong.

“I don’t know what you think you know,” I say, voice calm, “but your imagination?—”

“Please.” Soren laughs. “I can taste it. All that pent-up horniness finally boiling over. Tell me, did she fight you? Of course she did. Our Rose isn’t the type to go quietly into anyone’s arms, is she?”

Our Rose.

The possessive pronoun makes my fangs threaten to descend. “Stay away from her, Soren.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.” He stops directly in front of me, close enough that I can smell the expensive cologne he wears. Demons do have a taste for luxury. “I’m not the one who just mauled her in my quarters.”

“You know nothing about it.”

“I know she’s finally seeing what you really are.” His black eyes are filled with malice. “Not the controlled, dignified vampire lord. Just another monster who wants to consume her.”

The accusation hits too close to truth. Because isn’t that what I did? Lost control, pressed her against that desk, tasted her skin like I had any right to it?

“At least I don’t crawl into her dreams uninvited,” I say, letting ice seep into my voice. “Feeding on her while she sleeps. Tell me, Soren, how does it feel to be so desperate for scraps that you’ll violate an unconscious girl?”

His expression darkens, the playful mockery sliding away to reveal something uglier underneath. “Careful, vampire. You might not like what happens when you provoke me. I feed on emotion, remember? All that repression you’re so proud of? I could crack it open like an egg.”

“Try it.”

For a moment, we stand there in anticipation of violence. Students hurry past, sensing the danger without understanding it, giving us a wide berth.

Then Soren’s mouth curves back into that stupid smile he wears constantly “You think you’re protecting her by warning me off? You’re the danger here, Lucien. Not me.”

“I would never hurt her.”

“Wouldn’t you?” He cocks his head, studying me with those unearthly eyes. “You’re the one reporting her every move to Wickersly. You’re the one keeping her ignorant of what the Accord really means. You’re the one serving the very people who plan to drain her dry.”

Each word lands like a punch to the ribs. Because he’s right. God help me, the demon is right.

“At least I’m honest about what I am,” Soren continues. “I take what I need, but I don’t pretend it’s for her own good. You? You wrap your chains in pretty words about protection and duty, but you’re still putting them on her.”

“The Coven?—”

“The Coven owns you. And as long as they do, you’re more dangerous to Rose than I could ever be. Because she might actually trust you. She might actually believe you want to help her.”

The worst part is, I do want to help her. But wanting and being able to are vastly different things when you’re bound by centuries of obligation and blood contracts of your own.

“Stay away from her,” I repeat, but the warning sounds hollow now, even to me.

Soren adjusts his shirt collar, smoothing invisible wrinkles.

“I’d love to continue this delightful conversation, but I have a class to teach.

” His grin turns sharp as a knife. “Shielding, actually. Your little witch needs all the help she can get, doesn’t she?

Especially now that she knows what’s really waiting for her. ”

The implication freezes me in place. Rose is in his class.

Of course she is. The schedule I memorized for my reports, how could I forget?

She’ll walk into his classroom, still furious from our encounter, still burning with the truth of what the Accord means, and Soren will be there.

Waiting. Ready to offer comfort, understanding, everything I can’t give her.

“Don’t,” I start, but he’s already walking away, whistling something that sounds obscenely cheerful.

“See you around, Lucien,” he calls over his shoulder. “Do try not to assault any more students.”

I stand there for a moment. Then I turn on my heel, not toward Wickersly’s office but toward the classroom wing. I know exactly where Soren teaches.

I find a shadow to lurk in, positioning myself where I can see the door without being obvious. Students file in, chattering, oblivious. Then she appears, and my chest tightens despite myself.

Rose looks calmer, but I can see the tension in her shoulders, the way her hand keeps moving to her arm where the bloodmark burns. Dressed in all black like usual, like it’s her armor against the world.

She pauses at the classroom door, and for one moment, I think she senses me. Her head turns slightly, eyes scanning the hallway. But then someone bumps into her from behind, and she disappears inside.

I wait. Fifty minutes of standing in this hallway, listening. When the door finally opens and students stream out, I follow at a distance.

Rose heads for the courtyard, and I trail her, keeping to the edges of buildings, using every vampire skill I have to remain unnoticed. She finds a bench near the old oak, the one the witches decorate for their Litha and Yule festivals, and sits with her back to me.

She pulls out a book but doesn’t open it. Just sits there, staring at nothing, and I watch her like the pathetic creature I’ve become. Wanting what I can’t have. Protecting someone who doesn’t want my protection. Serving masters who will destroy the one thing that’s made me feel alive in centuries.

Soren was right. I am the danger here.

But knowing that doesn’t stop me from memorizing the way the afternoon light catches in her hair, the way she holds herself like she’s ready to fight the whole world.

It doesn’t stop me from wanting her.

And that terrifies me more than any threat the Coven could make.