I shifted my weight onto the cane, bracing myself. But the pain stayed. Images of Claire wounded flooded my mind. I should never have left her alone. I’d been foolish to let my temper get the best of me and leave her alone.

  “Sir Gavin, let’s continue this later.”

  I turned before he could respond. If anything happened to Claire, I would not survive it. Not because of fate or duty or destiny, but because I knew exactly what I’d become without her, and the world did not deserve that monster. That vengeful demon. That unrestrained reaper.

  The laws of the Blood Treaty stated I’d be consumed while my mate walked the earth, and free to rule when she was gone, but that wasn’t how it would go for me. Yes, I was more distracted around her. But her love made me a better man. When she died, the last of my humanity would too.

  Beat. Beat. Beat. Her pulse raced faster and faster. I continued through the castle, moving slow enough not to startle my staff, but it wasn’t fast enough, not for the monster. He was awake now. Triggered by the pain in my heart and the ache in my soul. He grew stronger with every fearful thought.

  And I had much to fear.

  Losing my reputation, losing her, losing the man I built myself to be ever since… Everything inside me squeezed into a tight ball, bracing against a memory I’d buried so deep I hoped it would never crawl back up. But fear makes old ghosts hungry, and the one I’d starved for years was stirring.

  I rounded the corner, ready to take the stairs two at a time to make it back to my private residences. That horn… what if? What if it belonged to him?

  Clenching my teeth, I reminded myself that it wasn’t possible. I’d thrown it into the Starfall River. It was gone, just like he was. I didn’t have the time, the patience, or the interest in entertaining shadows from the past.

  I stopped just outside our door and closed my eyes. There were enchantments placed on my bedchamber, old spells to keep whispers from reaching even vampiric hearing. I liked my privacy. But those spells couldn’t prevent me from feeling her emotions. We were close enough that I could open the link between our minds. The connection that allowed me to feel what she was feeling.

  I nudged it open, just a crack, and a thrill of pleasure rolled down my spine. My cock came to life, growing harder and harder. I knew she was alone; no unfamiliar scents lingered by the door. And I’d given orders to have the private residence wing cleared of all staff, including her consorts, due to our marriage. Which could only mean she was pleasuring herself.

  Resisting the urge to burst through the door, I bit my lip and took a long, slow breath in. But breath work didn’t stop the desire. The want to fuck and feed from my wife. To thrust in and out, over and over again, until I came inside her heat, filling her. It was more than just a primal urge. It was a need. A want. A desire to watch her belly grow, knowing we’d created something beautiful together.

  I imagined her with her hand between her legs and my name on her lips. I’d left my new bride unsatisfied, and the fire inside her was burning hotter than ever.

  I slipped out of our connection, breathing hard. And the intoxicating thrill of her pleasure faded. I battled with myself, caught between my desire to show Claire exactly how much I wanted her and my duty to keep her safe.

  But it was more than just the baby. I was still the Duke of Roselyn. My duty wasn’t just to her, but to our people. If she were with child, how could I ever stay focused?

  It was time to walk away from my room and see to my other duties. Clearly, Claire was safe. That phantom pain had been nothing more than nerves. No harm could find her in my bedchamber, and I had pressing matters to attend to. Namely, ensuring my army was ready to march into the Lawless Lands, because I didn’t think a simple negotiation was waiting for me. Not anymore. Not after receiving Hector’s head and Shayla’s warning.

  Just as I was about to return to the armory and apologize to Sir Gavin, the monster’s hands coiled around my throat, claws digging in, like he wanted to split me open and crawl out, ready to unleash a hunger I’d kept chained for centuries. A hunger that had run wild in that graveyard. I hadn’t cared who stood in my way. I’d killed indiscriminately. Young and old. Those with pleas on their lips and apologies in their eyes. Anyone who’d thought to hurt her had died. I took no prisoners. Offered no mercy. A vampire possessed by rage, too far gone to ask Hera why she’d wanted her mother’s magick or to drag her to Marius for judgment. She’d hurt Claire, and all I’d seen was murder.

  It urged me to open the door and see her face. To ensure I had nothing to worry about.

  My grip tightened around my cane until my nails bit into my palm, the sting forcing me to focus. Forcing me to stay inside my own skin. To hold the line between who I was and who I became when she was threatened.

  I knew, just as that twisted thing inside me knew, that while I could talk myself out of believing she was in danger from the demonic relic, I couldn’t keep her safe from the cursed necklace. It was the one threat I couldn’t drown in blood.

  She insisted it couldn’t be cut off nor could she tell me who’d fastened it around her neck, but I knew it was bound with a dark curse. Ready to take her life if she strayed from whatever path she’d been sent on.

  “She is alive. And I will ensure she stays that way,” I reminded it. Me. Us.

  “The Kemps were just the start. The world is fracturing. The blood treaty is crumbling. More will come for her. Including the one who owns her life. We could do more if you’d only let me out.”

  I snarled. The monster inside me wanted to solve this problem. It was more than just my vampiric nature, but the part of me that I struggled to control even as a witch. The part that had been seduced by something else entirely.

  I breathed in a long sip of air and held it. I needed to understand more about what was happening to Claire. More had changed than just her hair color. There were so many questions that needed answering. About who she really was. About why these wolf familiars bound themselves to her. About the fire she’d summoned from the earth.

  I hadn’t told her how strong these gifts were, even for Witches of the Darkness. It made me wonder why she was abandoned at the doorstep of a convent that worshipped Diana when she was destined for so much more.

  The only answer I had was that she was a witch someone wanted to hide. Or use.

  And now, the woman who had been abandoned by her own family wanted one for herself. The one gift I wanted to give her, but knew would kill her. I couldn’t thread this needle between loving her and keeping her safe if I were this monster. I had to be me.

  A new scent caught my attention. One of steel, expensive red wine, and the faintest trace of rosewater. I turned to find Lady Natalia stepping out of a shadowy archway, arms crossed over a fitted jacket and black vest trimmed in gold. Her waist-length brown hair was braided, as always, and draped over her shoulder.

  “Your Grace,” she said with an expression carved from flint.

  Natalia was my niece. Mon sang. My blood. My most trusted advisor. My second in command. We frequently exchanged barbs, yet the lack of warmth between us was unfamiliar. I’d grown tired of her continued accusations against my wife, and she had grown tired of my ignoring them. But something had shifted, and as much as I wished for the words to mend the divide, I had none.

  “What news?” I asked.

  She simply stared at me.

  “If you’ve come to lecture me about Claire⁠—”

  “This isn’t about your wife,” she interrupted tightly, speaking in Sanguisi. “Not everything is.”

  A lie. Everything was about Claire now. Everything I did, everything I feared, everything I planned.

  “Then what news?” I asked again.

  She was quiet for a moment. “We have reports from Roselyn of a sighting.” A coded remark. There was too much on my mind to interpret it at the moment. I opened the channel between our minds, waiting for her to clarify, but all she said was, “A werewolf.”

  Chapter 5

  Oser

  CLAIRE

  Ilost count of how many times I tried—and failed—to keep the candle lit. Eventually, it became less about conjuring the flame and more about the fact that I actually had magick. I had powers that were just for me. The kind that called flames and drove my own pleasure.

  After half an hour, I told myself I needed a break. I’d been at it so long that even my brown wolf was panting. But the horn kept vibrating, insistent that I test my limits. As it turned out, my power for self-pleasure was inexhaustible.

  With its help, I was free to explore my body on my own terms. I found my body was capable of more than I ever believed. Then there was the little pile of seashells. They’d appeared one by one. Beautiful, tiny things swirled with color. I couldn’t explain why, but they felt like gifts.

  I smiled and reclined on the pillow, relaxing into the silk sheets, staring at my shells and the horn, which had finally gone still. Not so long ago, I believed dark magick was an abomination. But things like the horn and these shells were changing my mind.

  I stroked the curve of it, grateful for what it had shown me, yet I knew in my heart that in order to break the curse on the necklace, I needed real power. It couldn’t be just me and the horn. There was a missing piece to all this: My husband.

  Soon, we would be leaving for the Lawless Lands. I had no idea what to expect on our journey, except perhaps cold nights in a tent with a man who refused to risk anything for fear of creating an heir. He would still crawl between my legs, feast on my blood, and still use that skilled tongue of his, but always with restraint. As if my body were something he had to manage.

  That wasn’t what I wanted for my marriage. And it wasn’t what I wanted for myself. But who could I ask to help me unlock my latent power? One name came to mind: Devlinn. He was a Dark Witch, and more importantly, he was one of my trusted consorts. However, since I had chosen the three people I was supposed to take as lovers, they’d always just been friends. Even Alec. As handsome and charming as he was, and as eager as he’d been to please me, it was nothing compared to Bastien.

  I swallowed hard. Yes. Devlinn would know what to do.

  As soon as I made the decision to dress and find him, the stone wall across from where I stood groaned. Puffs of old mortar erupted into the air. I shielded my face with my hand, sputtering out a cough. The dust turned into golden sparkles of light, and behind it, as if drawn by an invisible hand, appeared two arched doorways. The doors swung open in perfect unison, revealing two staircases.

  I could hardly believe what I was seeing. Magick, not wielded by a person, but cast from within the walls. It felt, absurdly, as if the castle had heard my vow and decided to answer it.

  Cautiously, I drew closer to the open doors. The sound of fur rustling and nails clicking told me I’d piqued the interest of my wolves. They might’ve ignored my cries of pleasure, but they couldn’t ignore this kind of magick.

  And neither could I.

  I set my hand on the doorway of the ascending staircase and drew in a deep breath. The scent of parchment, tobacco smoke, and fresh citrus wafted toward me. It reminded me of the old family grimoires Mama kept. The ones seeped in light magick. Ones I’d longed to use as a girl. But I knew that would never happen.

  I glanced down at the white wolf, who whined and nudged her snout into my knee. She was encouraging me up the spiraling wooden stairs. Meanwhile, the larger brown male was standing beside the staircase that plunged downward. I edged closer to it and drew in a breath of salty air and must. The sound of dripping water echoed from far below.

  Taking a step back, I considered the doors. I thought of using my bloodstone to summon Bastien and ask him where these staircases led, but I already knew what he would do. He’d simply close both doors and say I needed rest. He’d reassure me that he had a plan to take care of everything and that I needed to trust him. Just like he refused to consider that maybe these powers came to me for a reason, and that I was meant to take the choker off myself.

  My anger spiked viciously. Of course, I trusted him, but he wasn’t returning the favor. He hadn’t listened to me when I told him I could draw power from the horn. And I’d been right. The candles, the shells, these doors were all proof. If he’d just made love to me, I wouldn’t be in this predicament.

  I drew in a breath to calm myself. I was letting the fire consume me, and that couldn’t happen. I was standing at a crossroads, and whichever direction I chose would change my life. Going up felt like seeking answers in a safe way. Going down felt like stepping into everything I’d said I was willing to become.

  From the depths of the castle came a croaking voice. “Come, Claire,” it called softly. “Come look into my waters.”

  The fine hairs along my arms lifted, and my pulse thundered against my ribs. A voice rising from beneath the castle should have sent me running for Bastien. But I wanted to make new choices. To prove that I was the worthiest witch in that graveyard.

  Answers, a quiet part of me whispered. Not safety. Not comfort. Answers.

  My instincts were pulling me toward the voice. But if I was going to do this, it needed to be now. Bastien wouldn’t be gone forever.

  Gathering my courage, I slipped the seashells into the pocket of my robe, which I quickly tied, then held the horn out in front of me like a wand. Or a shield. My wolves fell in behind me as I began the descent.

  After a few steps, the light from my bedchamber was lost, and I walked in near darkness. The temperature grew warmer with each step, as if the walls themselves were heated by a supernatural power.

  Perhaps Tansy hadn’t been joking, I thought dimly. Perhaps a dragon truly did sleep beneath the castle. However, when I rounded the next corner, I didn’t see a scaly beast, but a cavern with sharp stones sticking from the ceiling like jagged teeth, looming over a large salt pond. Steam hung like a cloud over the water.

  “Well, well, well,” croaked the voice from somewhere behind the mist. “If it’s not the Duchess herself. Prince Bastien’s long-awaited mate.”

  My heart pounded hard in my chest. Only those who had taken a blood vow knew about my marriage. This person knew things they shouldn’t. My wolves growled, yet I did not turn and run. Not even when a skeletal figure emerged from the mist. Her long silver hair hung in dripping strands around a sunken face, and grayish skin clung to her bones. But it was her eyes that gave me pause. They glowed emerald.

  Tansy had joked that a mermaid lived beneath the château, tending the dragon. This woman was no mermaid, but a witch. You could always see magick in a witch’s eyes.

  When Witches of the Light cast spells, they shone pale as moonstone. When Witches of the Darkness worked their power, their eyes burned like liquid rubies. But I had never seen anything like this. Emerald did not belong to either side. Perhaps she was a water demon, like Mama had warned me about when I was a child.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  The woman’s lips peeled back in something that might have been a smile, revealing a row of chipped teeth. “Is that what you wish to know? My name?” she croaked. “Or are you here to ask a different question?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I only answer questions in exchange for payment. And you”—her gaze flicked downward—“only brought enough shells for one.”

  I reached into my pocket and drew out the small handful of shells. I realized these weren’t gifts. They were currency. Payment for the old witch in the water.

  The woman slipped beneath the surface of the lake and swam toward me, appearing again at my feet. I swallowed hard, fear tightening my throat, but I did not move.

  She regarded the wolves sitting beside me, completely unafraid of them. “So many questions cloud your mind. Who am I? What should I do? What is my husband hiding?” Unfurling her spidery hand, the woman waited expectantly for my shells. “Which will it be, my lady?”

  The emerald of her eyes flashed greedily as she stared at them. She wanted these shells as much as I wanted answers, and I knew I needed to use that to my advantage. So I put them back in my pocket. When I did, the light dimmed from her eyes, and she crinkled her brow. “Come, girl, give me your shells and ask your question. The prince will be along soon. And something tells me you wouldn’t want him to find you here.”

  “That’s a bold thing to say,” I replied evenly. “Especially from someone who refuses to tell me her name.”

  She narrowed her strange, shiny green eyes. “I am the last remnant of what existed before.”

  I didn’t have time for cryptic answers. Frustration bubbled under my skin. The near-constant irritation that I couldn’t seem to control. “Before what?”

  A strange grin flashed across her face, like she had been waiting for me to ask this question. “You were born during a time when magick is either dark or light. Moon or demonic. From the great mother, Diana, or from the father, Damien. But it wasn’t always that way.”

  She paused, seeming to watch the way the questions swam through my mind, then patted the lip of the salty lake. “If you want to know who I am, come sit by the water, and I’ll tell you a story.”

  “I’m not giving you my shells to hear a story,” I said. I came here for answers, not tales.

  Her eyes lingered on the horn. She leaned closer, her joints creaking as she moved, bones shifting beneath parchment-thin flesh. “I’ll tell you this one for free. But when the story ends, you will ask your question and give me your payment. Agreed?”

  She held my gaze with those unsettling eyes of hers. I hesitated. The heat rolling off the lake had me sweating, making the horn slick in my hands. I didn’t know who or what this woman was, and she was asking me to make a bargain with her. A bargain for the shells I’d created with my own magick.

  Fear had kept me small before. I wasn’t going to lose the chance to gain agency over my magick because of a creepy old woman. Besides, I had my wolves to protect me.

  Lowering myself onto the damp stone, I winced as steam hissed against my skin, and the salty air stung my eyes. “Agreed.”