Page 18 of Wicked Vows (Cursed Darkness (DarkHallow Academy) #1)

Lysithea

“ G et out,” I mutter to Dathan and Verik, who seem to be hanging around like spare parts after Evren’s chilling departure.

I wish I knew what he was thinking. Why did he suddenly leave?

His touch was soothing the mark, which has now flared up again into a burning pain that is hard to ignore.

I shift uncomfortably, and Dathan notices.

He moves across the room to the bathroom and flicks on the shower.

“We aren’t going anywhere, Thea,” he states.

“Don’t call me that,” I hiss.

“You don’t like it? What can I call you then? Lys?”

“Call me the raging bitch from hell while you walk out of that door and leave me the fuck alone.”

“Can’t do that,” Verik says. “Besides, raging bitch from hell? No, love. That’s my mother.”

I blink at him and then snort unconsciously at the statement. I straighten my face instantly when he grins at me. “Go away.”

“Try the cool shower,” Dathan says softly. “It might help.”

“No, what was helping was Evren, and he fucked off. I’d have preferred it if he had stayed and you two went!”

“Ouch,” Verik mutters.

“Fuck you,” I growl. “You don’t get to play the victim here.”

Verik’s grin doesn’t falter. It’s an infuriating, beautiful slash of arrogance. “Never said I was, but I’m allowed to have feelings.”

I scoff, but then figure he’s right to feel how he feels. Just like everyone.

The burn on my back intensifies, a sharp, stabbing pain that makes me hiss through my teeth. The Scar is a living thing, a parasite feeding on my agony, and it’s connected to them.

“Get. Out.” I enunciate each word, my voice a low, dangerous rumble that makes the orchids on my windowsill tremble. My snake, who is still hanging around, writhes at my feet, eager for a command.

Dathan ignores me, walking closer. His silver eyes are soft, a manipulative trick I refuse to fall for. “Let us help you, Lysithea. The Scar is new. It needs to settle.”

“Help me?” I laugh, a harsh, broken sound. “You’re the ones who did this! You think I’m going to let you touch me again?”

He stops just out of arm’s reach. “Evren isn’t here, so you can suffer, or you can cool off in the shower.”

Bastard.

Giving him a death stare, I stride past him and slam the bathroom door closed, locking it for good measure. Not that it will stop either of them.

The futility of the gesture is a bitter laugh in my throat. A lock won’t stop a reality-bender. It’s just a line in the sand. My line.

I strip off the ruined dress, the fabric clinging to the seared skin of my back.

A glance in the mirror is a mistake. The Scar is a masterpiece of violation.

A sprawling, intricate web of black and silver that breathes with a life of its own, pulsing with a faint, malevolent light.

It’s beautiful and it’s hideous. It’s mine and it’s theirs.

The cold water is a violent shock, stealing the air from my lungs.

I gasp, pressing my forehead against the cold, wet tiles as the icy spray hits the brand.

The burning subsides, banked but not gone.

I can feel slivers of their power, but thankfully, it ends there.

I don’t want them in my head, and I don’t want to be in theirs.

Whatever bond that ties us, it’s based on our magic alone.

I turn the water off, the sudden silence deafening. Climbing out of the shower, I towel off carefully and wrap it around my body. The pain is gone for now, but I know it will return. It’s lingering, waiting.

I open the bathroom door. The towel is my only armour. They’re still here. Verik is examining the scorch marks on my wall with an architect’s eye. Dathan is sprawled on my bed, one arm behind his head, looking like he owns the place. The arrogance is breathtaking.

“Still here?” I ask, my voice flat.

Verik turns, his hellfire eyes raking over me. The towel feels as protective as a single sheet of tissue paper. “We’re not leaving you alone. Not after what you summoned.”

“I didn’t summon anything,” I snap, clutching the towel tighter. “You did this. This is your mess.”

“Our mess,” Dathan corrects from the bed, his voice a low purr. “And you’re right in the middle of it with us, Thea.”

“I told you not to call me that.” The Scar on my back gives a warning throb, a hot pulse that echoes the anger in my voice.

He climbs off the bed and takes a step towards me.

My snake familiar slithers towards him from the shadows at my feet, a low hiss vibrating in the air.

He stops, his gaze dropping to the shadowy construct before returning to my face, a slow, appreciative smile spreading across his lips.

“She’s beautiful when she’s angry,” he murmurs to Verik.

“She’s magnificent,” Verik corrects, not taking his eyes off me. “And she’s ours.”

“I belong to no one,” I spit, the words tasting of acid and blood.

“Why don’t you like Thea?” Dathan asks, changing the subject.

The question hangs in the air, so absurd, so colossally arrogant that for a second, I’m speechless. He stands there, a predator who just helped hold me down and carve his ownership into my skin, and he’s asking about my preferred nickname like we’re sharing a fucking coffee.

“Because you haven’t earned the right to use it,” I say, my voice dangerously soft. “You don’t get to violate me and then pretend we’re friends.”

The Scar on my back throbs, a hot, angry pulse of agreement.

Dathan’s smile doesn’t falter. If anything, it widens. “Who said anything about being friends?”

He takes another step, and my serpent rises, its shadowy form solidifying, its void-fangs bared. The message is clear. He stops, holding his hands up in a gesture of mock surrender.

“This isn’t a violation, Lysithea,” Verik says, his voice a low rumble from across the room. “It’s an ascension. Your ascension. We just lit the fuse.”

“My body, my fuse,” I spit back. “You don’t get to light a fucking thing without my permission.”

“Too late.”

Well, he has a point. A flicker of frost tinges the windows behind him, and I shove him aside to stare out at the courtyard.

Evren is there, holding a book. He stares at me, eyes narrowed as I clutch the towel wrapped around me.

I lick my lips. This looks bad from the outside, but why do I even care?

He vanishes, and seconds later, I feel his presence in the room.

Evren materialises in the corner, a silent tear in reality. The book is clutched in his hand like a weapon. My serpent hisses, a low warning, but doesn’t attack. Traitor.

He walks towards me, his ice-blue eyes ignoring the other two entirely. He stops, holding the book out. It looks suspiciously like the one I saw in the forbidden alcoves.

“What is that?” Dathan asks, his voice sharp with suspicion.

Evren doesn’t look at him. His gaze is fixed on me, a silent, urgent plea. He taps the cover of the book.

“He thinks this will help,” Verik says, intrigued.

The Scar on my back flares again, a sharp, searing pain that makes me gasp. I clutch the towel, my knuckles white. Evren’s gaze softens.

I hate this. I hate needing him.

He opens the book to reveal words that hold no meaning.

“Tenebris Vinculum?” I ask with a frown. “What’s that?”

He taps the book again.

“A book?”

He rotates his wrist in a “keep going” gesture.

Dathan and Verik come closer. “A textbook?” Dathan asks.

More gesturing.

“A grimoire?” Verik murmurs.

Evren clicks and points at him.

“A grimoire?” I ask. “What kind of grimoire?”

Evren shrugs and taps the page again to get our attention refocused.

I read the rest of the words on the page. “Only the Tenebris Vinculum can help her now. Help me with what? The fucking mess you made?”

My eyes drop to the next word. “Sacrifice.”

Evren shakes his head and points to himself.

“Your sacrifice?”

He nods.

“What’s the Blood Court?” I ask, my gaze flicking between them.

Evren shrugs again but points downwards.

“Somewhere underground?”

He nods.

“But you don’t know where?”

He shakes his head.

“So, we find it,” Verik says. “Do we know why Lysithea needs help?”

“Uhh, because you three are arseholes who branded me and made me call something sinister that probably wants to eat us?” I ask with a vicious sneer.

“Well, can’t argue with that,” Dathan mutters.

“So, what now? We find this Blood Court?”

Evren nods.

“How?”

“We could ask Blackgrove,” Verik says, unhelpfully.

Evren gives him a withering glare that makes me giggle.

“Okay, point taken,” Verik says with a laugh. “Stupid idea.”

I snort. “Congratulations, you’ve finally had one.”

“Oh, burn,” Dathan says, giving a surprised laugh. “This is fun.”

“For whom?” I snap, causing my snake to rear up, which makes Dathan and Verik take a step back.

The absurdity of it all is a sharp, hysterical bubble in my chest.

“Right,” I say, my voice suddenly firm. “Field trip to find a mythical court and a mystery grimoire. Sounds fun. But right now, you’re all getting the fuck out of my room.”

My serpent rises at my feet, its shadowy form expanding until it’s a coiled wall of darkness between me and them.

Dathan’s eyes gleam, a flicker of hunger and amusement. “Or what?”

A slow, savage smile spreads across my face. “Or that,” I say, as the snake’s fangs drip with venom.

Dathan’s laugh is a low, appreciative rumble. “Cute pet.”

“It bites,” I say, the words a low promise. My serpent’s head follows his every move, a silent vow of violence.

Verik smirks, a flicker of hellfire dancing in his eyes. He sees a puzzle, another piece of architecture to be dismantled. “A shadow construct is just an extension of will, little siren, and will can be broken.”

He takes a half-step forward, and the air crackles. My serpent lunges, a blur of pure void. Before it can connect, a wall of ice, intricate as a snowflake, erupts from the plush carpet. Evren. He stands between us, his hand outstretched, a silent, absolute command.

Verik halts, his jaw tightening. He looks from the ice wall to Evren, then to me. A flicker of annoyance crosses his face before being replaced by that infuriating, calculated calm. “Point taken.”

Dathan backs towards the door. “We’ll be back for you, Thea,” he says, his voice a low, possessive caress. “Don’t go starting any apocalypses without us.”

He winks, then opens the door. He steps through, and Verik follows, but not before giving me one last, lingering look that feels like a physical touch. Then, only Evren remains.

He lowers his hand. The ice wall dissolves into a fine mist. He looks at me, then at the book in his other hand, then back to me, before he leaves the book on the desk. A silent question. A silent promise.

Then he, too, is gone, melting into the shadows.

The silence rushes in, a heavy, suffocating thing. My serpent dissolves, seeping back into the darkness at my feet. My knuckles are white where I’m clutching the towel. My knees give out. I drop to the floor.

The towel is a flimsy shield. I’m naked, branded, and tethered to three monsters.

To top off this shitty day, something ancient is coming for me, something I called.