Page 32 of Wicked Chains (Serpentine Academy #2)

Thirty

Rose

Hank watches me from the desk, his big eyes following my nervous pacing around the room. At least he seems to have recovered from his near-death experience with Helena. Which is more than I can say for my nerves.

"Stop worrying," I tell Hank. "I know what I'm doing."

Hank blinks at me doubtfully.

A knock at the door makes me jump. Three sharp raps, and I know it's Lucien.

I take a deep breath and open it. Sure enough, the vampire stands in my doorway, perfect as always in an impeccably cut suit and tie.

"Hello, Rose. You wanted to see me?"

"Yeah, come in." I step back, gesturing him inside. "Thanks for coming."

He enters, and it looks like he's gliding rather than walking. "Your message sounded urgent. Is everything all right?"

"Not exactly," I say. "I need your help with something."

His eyebrow arches. "My help? How unexpected."

"It's not like I have a ton of options."

Lucien smiles slightly. "And here I thought we were making progress."

Before I can respond, another knock comes—this one more of a lazy thump than Lucien’s.

Soren.

I see Lucien's nostrils flare slightly, and I’m guessing he can probably smell Soren through the door with his vampire senses. This is going to go great.

I open the door to find Soren leaning against the frame, dressed in dark jeans and a black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his sinewy forearms. His eyes are pure black, not a hint of white, and his smile widens when he sees me.

"Hey, little witch," he says, pushing off the doorframe. "Got your message. What's so?—"

He stops mid-sentence, his eyes focusing past me to where Lucien stands in the middle of my room.

"Well," Soren drawls. "This is cozy. Should I have brought wine?"

"Come in and shut the door," I say, grabbing his arm and pulling him inside before he can change his mind.

Lucien's face has gone carefully blank, but his eyes are stern. "Professor Malric. What a surprise."

"Isn't it?" Soren grins as he looks from Lucien to me. "Though I suppose I shouldn't be shocked. Rose does seem to prefer variety."

"Oh my God, both of you stop," I say, crossing my arms. "I didn't call you here to watch you two measure your dicks. I need help, and you're both..." I hesitate. "... people I thought might actually care enough to provide it."

That shuts them up, at least momentarily. Soren's smirk fades, and Lucien's posture shifts subtly.

"Of course," Lucien says. "What's happened?"

"Sit down," I say. "Please."

Lucien takes the desk chair, while Soren sprawls on my bed, looking way to familiar with it. They both watch me expectantly.

I take a deep breath. "Helena tried to kill Hank yesterday."

"What?" Lucien is on his feet in an instant, and his eyes land on Hank, who's sitting on my desk.

"Tell us," Soren says.

So I do. I tell them about Helena confronting me in the hallway, about her grabbing Hank, about how she was going to crush him just to teach me a lesson.

I tell them about Ash showing up, about how he stopped her but only because he sees me as his property.

By the time I finish, both men look ready to murder.

"I'll kill her," Lucien says, his voice scarily calm. "She has violated every principle of this academy."

"Get in line," Soren interrupts. "That psychotic bitch has been pushing boundaries since she took over, but this crosses a line."

"Look, I appreciate the protectiveness," I say, "but going after Helena directly would be suicide. She's got too much power, too many allies. We need a different approach."

"Which is?" Lucien asks.

I hesitate. "That's kind of why I asked you both here. I heard something, and I need to know if either of you can confirm it."

Hank chooses this moment to hop off the desk and across the floor. To my utter amazement, he springs directly into Lucien's lap.

Lucien stops, looking down at the frog now sitting contentedly on his immaculately tailored trousers, an expression of absolute horror on his face. "What is it doing?"

I bite my lip to keep from laughing. "I think he likes you."

Lucien stays as still as a statue. He looks at me pleadingly. "Rose, please remove your familiar."

"He almost died yesterday," I say. "Let him sit wherever he wants."

Lucien sighs, his hands hovering uncertainly as Hank makes himself comfortable.

"So," Soren says, redirecting us. "What did you hear?"

I take a deep breath. "Do either of you know anything about a third Wickersly sister? Someone named Jasmine?"

The reaction is immediate. Lucien goes completely still, and Soren sits up straight, his casual demeanor vanishing.

"Helena was talking about her," I continue. "She was clearly not a fan. I thought maybe this third sister could help us against Helena."

Soren and Lucien exchange a look that makes my stomach drop.

"What?" I ask. "You both obviously know something."

Lucien sighs. "Jasmine Wickersly is not someone you want to seek out, Rose."

"She makes Helena look like a kindergarten teacher," Soren adds. "And that's saying something."

"Tell me about her."

"Jasmine is the eldest of the three Wickersly sisters. She was removed from her position in the Crescent Moon Coven a very long time ago." Lucien grimaces as Hank croaks.

"Removed is a kind way of putting it," Soren says. "She was imprisoned. Locked away because even the coven couldn't control her."

"What did she do?" I ask.

Lucien's expression darkens. "There are rumors that she experimented. Taking magic from other witches, not just through contracts like the Accord, but by… consuming them."

"Consuming them?" My voice comes in a squeak. "Like, literally?"

I take their silence as a yes.

"The coven elders deemed her methods too vile," Lucien continues. "Even for them. Helena was given leadership instead, and Jasmine was confined."

“And then Victoria took that leadership away from Helena,” I say. Talk about a dysfunctional family. "But if she's locked up, why would Helena be worried about her?" I ask.

"That," Lucien says grimly, "is an excellent question."

I run my hands through my hair, trying to process this. "So seeking her help would be a terrible idea?"

"The worst idea," Soren confirms. "Jasmine doesn't help anyone but herself."

"Great." So much for that plan.

"You need protection," Lucien states.

"I need freedom," I say. "But protection would be a good start."

"We can protect you," Soren says, his eyes sliding briefly to Lucien before returning to me.

"And how's that going to work?" I ask. "You two can't even be in the same room without sniping at each other. And neither of you can be with me 24/7."

"We could try," Soren says, a hint of his usual suggestiveness returning. "I'm sure we could work out a schedule."

Lucien makes a sound suspiciously like a growl.

This is all so strange, Soren and Lucien, seemingly united in their concern for me. The incubus and the vampire, both looking at me like I'm something they're afraid of losing.

Lucien's gaze lingers on me, intense and focused, while Soren watches both of us with knowing eyes. I feel the weight of what's unspoken between us all, the memory of Lucien's fangs at my throat, the memory of Soren's body moving against mine, the shared moment between us, with Drake.

Soren notices the way Lucien looks at me, and something like understanding passes across his face. At the same time, Lucien's nostrils flare slightly, and I wonder if he can smell Soren on my skin, in my bed, even days later.

The moment stretches between us, and no one speaks.

"Well," Soren says. "I think this is where I make a graceful exit."

"You don't have to go," I say quickly.

"Oh, I think I do." His smile is knowing, almost sweet. "You two have things to discuss." He moves to the door, pausing with his hand on the knob. "Just remember, little witch, my services are always open to you. Literally and metaphorically."

Lucien's jaw clenches, but he says nothing.

“I'll be around when you're ready." He glances quickly at Lucien, then back to me. "Enjoy your evening."

The door clicks shut behind him, leaving me alone with Lucien. Hank has fallen asleep on his lap, apparently unconcerned with the sexual tension in the room.

Lucien and I stare at each other, and his eyes hold mine without blinking. I can still feel the phantom pressure of his fangs on my throat, the memory of his mouth drawing my blood, the way my body responded.

"So," I say, going for nonchalance. "Now what?"