Page 6 of Wicked Chains (Serpentine Academy #2)

Four

Rose

I head straight for my room, and as I get closer to my door I see a figure in the shadows.

It’s Soren.

He’s leaning just beside my door, hands in his pockets, head tipped back. His shirt is half-unbuttoned, of course, and the tie that was his one nod to formality is now draped loose and crooked.

“I was starting to think you were never coming back.”

“I was busy.”

Soren’s mouth pulls sideways. “Lucien.”

“Make it make sense, Soren. The last time I saw either of you, Ash had you both down on the ground like dogs. Now you’re besties with the bastard?”

He finally looks at me, eyes pitch black.

“I work here, Rose. The name on the letterhead changes, but the job’s the same.

Never made promises to the Crescent Moon.

Never claimed I’d be loyal to them, or you, or anyone.

I teach here because it gives me access to the things I need, and protection from obligations I'd rather avoid. The Crescent Moon paid well. Now the Blood Moon pays better. It’s that simple. ”

The way he says it makes my blood rise. I want to punch him, or maybe kiss him, and that thought is so disgusting I almost laugh.

Instead I just step closer, trying to crowd him, but Soren doesn’t move.

He lets me get in his space, lets me close enough to catch the dark, dangerous scent that comes with him.

“Why are you here, Soren?”

He watches my face for a moment, then leans in, lips near my ear. “You, obviously.”

My stomach flutters, despite myself.

He sighs, lips grazing against my skin, and for one dizzy second I remember what it was like to let him in, to have all that hunger focused on me alone.

“I am what I am, Rose.”

“And what you are is an asshole,” I say, pulling back to glare at him. "You could have at least warned me. Both of you could have warned me. Given me a heads up that you were planning to roll over and show your belly to the new management."

"When exactly was I supposed to do that? While I was unconscious on the floor? Or maybe during the champagne toast this morning?" His voice carries an edge.

"You seemed pretty cozy with them at the assembly."

"Did I?" He shifts slightly, and suddenly I'm the one backed against my door, his hands braced on either side of me. "Or was I watching you get forced to your knees by that sadistic prick while calculating exactly how many pieces I could tear him into before his guards stopped me?"

My breath catches. "Don't."

"Don't what?" His eyes search mine. "Don't what? Don't point out that you were on your knees for another man while I had to sit there and watch?"

The jealousy in his voice sends a thrill through me that I immediately hate myself for feeling. "That wasn't by choice and you know it."

"I know." His hand moves to my face, thumb tracing my jaw. "Which is why he's still breathing."

"Big talk for someone who got knocked out with a wave of his hand."

Silver flashes in Soren's eyes. "You think I'm weak?"

"I think you're all talk." I'm baiting him and he knows it.

"Careful, Rose." His voice drops low. "You're playing with fire."

"Am I? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you bent the knee pretty quick."

Something shifts in his expression. Before I can react, his hand slides to the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair. He pulls, firm enough to tilt my head back.

"You want to see me on my knees? All you have to do is ask, Rose."

Heat floods through me, low in my belly. I hate that my body responds to him even when my brain is screaming that he's a demon, that I should want nothing to do with him.

"Get off me," I manage, but it comes out weak and unconvincing.

"Make me." His free hand finds my hip, thumb stroking the strip of skin where my shirt has ridden up. "Use that power the covens all have a hard-on for.”

“I'm getting really tired of the men around here thinking they can just?—"

"Just what?" His thumb draws lazy circles on my hip. I don’t try to move away, though. "Touch you? Want you? Fight over who gets to own you?" He smirks. "We're all monsters here, Rose. The only difference is I'm honest about it." He steps back, hands dropping to his sides.

The loss of his warmth leaves me cold, which pisses me off even more. To hide it, I busy myself with unlocking my door, pushing it open and walking through as I speak.

"What I don't get," I say, "is how everyone is just going along with this. Yesterday the Crescent Moon Coven ran this place. Today it's the Blood Moon, and everyone's acting like it's just another Monday. Like nothing even happened."

Something almost like pity flickers across his face. "You really don't understand how this world works, do you?"

"Enlighten me."

He follows me inside. "The families who send their precious offspring here?

They don't give a shit about loyalty, Rose.

They care about power. About status. About making sure their bloodlines stay on top.

They don't care who's running the show as long as their children come out with the right connections and enough power to secure the family fortune for another generation.”

"So they just switch sides? Just like that?"

"Just like that." He snaps his fingers.

"That's insane."

"That's reality." He drops into my desk chair, sprawling with that casual arrogance that makes me want to both strangle him and climb into his lap.

"The Blood Moon probably had deals in place before they even made their move.

Half these families were hedging their bets, ready to flip the moment the wind changed direction. "

I lean against my desk, arms crossed. "And you? Were you hedging your bets too?"

"I don't gamble unless I already know the outcome." His eyes look over me slowly, deliberately. "Though you do make me want to take chances I shouldn't."

"Stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Looking at me like..." I wave a hand vaguely. "Like that."

"Like I want to eat you up?" His smile is wolfish. “Can't help it. It's in my nature.”

I look away from him, trying to collect myself.

The sheer exhaustion of thinking about everything that's happened in the last twenty-four hours crashes over me like a wave.

Drake is gone. Lucien and Soren have aligned themselves with my new captors.

And, in an extra fun surprise, I'm apparently bound to a sadistic psychopath who can control my body with a thought.

"You should get some sleep," Soren says.

"Right. Because everything will be so much better after a good night's rest." I push off from the desk and move toward my bed. "I’m sure you have no ulterior motives for wanting me to get some rest ."

He stands slowly. “I think it’s for the best if I refrain from… visiting anymore.”

I freeze. "What?"

"You heard me." He moves toward the door, pausing. His eyes meet mine. "I won't be visiting your dreams anymore. Not until you ask."

“Ask.” The word comes out sharp. “Since when do you require permission, Professor ?”

"Since now." He opens the door and walks out. "The game has changed, Rose. New players. And despite what you think of me, I'm not interested in being another man forcing himself into spaces where he's not wanted."

The irony of an incubus talking about consent isn't lost on me, but there's something in his voice that makes me believe him.

I stand in the doorway, watching him as he walks the length of the corridor, whistling as he goes.

It’s late but I can’t sleep. I pull a hoodie on over my pajamas and stick my bare feet into my sneakers, then slip out of my room, heading to the stairs.

The fourth floor is dark when I reach it, darker than it should be even with most of the lights off. It’s a moonless, starless night and everything is pitch black looking out the windows.

"Drake?" I whisper, then louder. "Drake, are you here?"

Nothing.

Just the settling of an old building and the distant sound of the building's ancient heating system. I move further into the hallway, bumping into dusty furniture, my fingers gliding along the wall for guidance.

I find the spot where everything went sideways yesterday. God, was it only yesterday? Time feels wrong after my encounter with Abigail. The floor shows no sign of struggle, no evidence left behind to tell the tale of what happened here. Or wherever it was.

There's nothing else up here, living or otherwise. Just darkness in every direction.

With a heavy sigh, I sink down to sit cross-legged on the dusty floor, my back against the wall. The cold goes through my thin pajama pants immediately, but I don't care. I lean my head back and close my eyes.

"Drake," I say to the empty hallway, my voice no more than a whisper. "I don't know if you can hear me wherever you are. But I miss you." The words feel strange coming out of my mouth, too vulnerable for someone who's spent years building walls. "I need you to come back to me. Please."

The silence that follows makes my chest tighten with something that feels dangerously close to grief.