The Coven (Coven of Bones, #1)(61)

To stop delaying what I needed to do. Stop antagonizing the headmaster and make myself malleable.

Become whatever he wanted me to be.

“You expect us to believe you have nothing to do with it? Your blood rejuvenated the courtyard, and the first body was found there within days. You bled on the ground outside today and now Bash is dead too; his body just conveniently left there? You’re at the center of fucking everything that has gone wrong here,” she said, her voice rising as the flat of her palm struck me across the cheek.

My face turned with the force of it, and I raised a hand to touch the blood that welled at the corner of my lip.

“I’m not going to fight you,” I said, shaking my head as one of her friends raised his hands, ready to defend her.

“What are you? Afraid?” the other girl asked.

“Yes,” I said, breathing evenly. “But not of you.”

Her friend struck forward, sinking his fist into my gut and knocking the breath out of me. “Then fight, bitch.”

“You spelled witch wrong,” I argued, forcing my hands to stay still at my sides.

My magic tried to rise within me, but I rolled my neck to the side and inhaled, keeping it locked within my chest and refusing to let it crack the stones of the school with my anger.

“I am afraid of whatever is killing us. That’s why I’m not going to fight you.”

Another punch to my stomach, followed by one that struck my nose. It crunched in my face. Blood burst from it and dripped down over my lips. Pain made my head throb, but it was nothing compared to what I’d already endured at far more vicious hands.

“Because you’ll just kill us instead?” He sneered.

“Because I know how terrified you are,” I said, my voice more nasally than normal. My blood stained my teeth as I spoke, the metallic taste filling my mouth. “And I understand what fear can make us do.”

Someone punched me in the lower back, sending me sprawling to my hands and knees as sharp pain tore through my torso. A foot connected with my ribs, driving into me so swiftly that I sputtered, gasping for breath as I collapsed onto the floor.

Worse. I’d been through worse, I reminded myself. Pinching my eyes closed and curling up on my side, I pulled my legs against my chest to protect as many of my vital organs as I could.

One of the men reached down, grasping me by the hair.

“You should leave before he finds out what you did,” I said, shoving down bile as he glared down at me.

“Vessel loving bitch,” he snarled. “You’re so fucking loyal to him, and he follows you around like a puppy, doesn’t he? But where was he during the Reaping, Willow?”

“Are you finished?” I asked, feigning disinterest, even though the reminder was like a stab to the heart. It hurt more than any of the physical wounds they’d managed to inflict, serving as the reminder I needed.

Gray could and would have my body. But he would never have my heart.

Because he didn’t have one to give me in return.

“Yeah, we’re done,” he said, pulling my head away from the floor with his hold on my hair. He slammed it back against the stone, making my vision swim for a moment.

Then it went dark.





I crawled up the steps, taking them one at a time as my body fought to pull itself up. I couldn’t quite get to my feet, using the railing at the side to help me when I finally reached the top. His room was closer than the earth at the bottom, and I knew I was going to regret the choice when he hunted them down and killed them all the next day.

Why would he bother? That nagging voice in the back of my mind needed to shut the fuck up, needing to keep out of my business.

I let go of the railing, sprawling across the floor in front of his door. I was shocked to find he hadn’t already felt my pain, that his blood in me hadn’t been enough to alert him to what happened. Maybe he’d hoped they would finish the job and he wouldn’t be held responsible because of our bargain. Even with that condemning thought dancing in my head, I pulled myself toward his room, seeking the one place I felt even remotely safe.

I didn’t want to think about that.

I pulled myself to his door, slumping against it and raising my arm just high enough to knock on it as firmly as I could manage. Sleep pulsed at the edge of my vision, trying to pull me under as I waited.

“Willow,” he said, but his voice didn’t come from behind the door. It came from behind me, his footsteps quick as he darted down from the stairway that curved ever higher into the upper levels. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

He knelt in front of me, touching his fingers to my nose and wincing. My eyes drifted closed, the darkness trying to swallow me whole all over again. His deep sigh was half a rumble, a growl that seemed to echo through the halls. “Fucking Hell,” he muttered, reaching down and gathering me into his arms.

“Had nowhere else to go,” I mumbled, leaning against his chest as he pulled me to my feet long enough to get the door open. He shuffled me in, closing it behind him before he smoothly lifted me into his arms. “Think we’ve been here before.” My laugh was humorless as he brought me to his bed, laying me atop the surface.

He didn’t answer, bringing his wrist to his mouth and biting it as he swam in and out of a fuzzy circle. “Drink,” he said, offering it to me. I hesitated, and I could see him just enough to watch as he rolled his eyes. “I think it’s time you acknowledge that it is too late to save yourself from me, love.”