I set my glass on the coffee table and leaned back into the velvet of the couch as I massaged my temples with a groan. My sour stomach and achy head had very little to do with the wine and very much to do with Maverick’s question. He’d landed on the topic I’d been avoiding for weeks. This wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have with another witch, let alone one from my family. It was a small miracle I was even still talking to Maverick about it, period.

  “Your mother has enough to deal with as it is,” I hedged. “No need to burden her with my problems as well.”

  Maverick’s glower was nothing short of impressive. With his tall, lean frame and the intensity of his eyes and expression, he was prone to look forbidding and a little morose. Recently, Maverick had softened a bit around the edges, so the return of this acidic dislike was a bit comforting—I enjoyed being on familiar ground. It made it easier to meet his gaze.

  “Tabitha is now the High Witch of Crescent Circle, Wanda.”

  “Really?” I asked, feigning shock as my mouth dropped open and I brought a hand to my chest. “When in the world did that happen and how come no one told me?”

  “Don’t mock me.”

  I frowned at him. “Then don’t tell me things I already know. If there’s anything I can’t stand, it’s redundant conversation.”

  “The point is… Mother is allied with us, you irritating woman, which means she deserves to know about your new... situation.”

  I knew that. I knew it and hated it.

  The truth was that Aunt Tabitha had been petitioning to join my coven, Scapegrace, in the wake of Mother’s banishment. As High Witch of Crescent Circle, it was my belief that Tabitha wanted to blend the two covens—to extend an offer of unity to our little coven of outliers. And though I appreciated the idea, I’d never allow it. No, Scapegrace would remain exactly what it was—full of those who wanted something new, free from the fetters of tradition.

  I was, however, amenable to the idea of Tabitha leaving Crescent Circle and joining Scapegrace, if only to give her a chance to make amends with Astrid. Unfortunately, I was certain Tabitha’s relationship with Maverick was beyond repair—at least for the foreseeable future. Astrid had always been welcomed by other witches; Maverick had been left alone to stew in his resentment for decades. That wasn’t something a few visits and a Hallmark card could fix.

  Unfortunately for all of us, or maybe fortunately—depending on how you looked at it—Tabitha had been needed elsewhere. One of my eldest sisters, Belladonna, had made a bid for the title of High Witch of Crescent Circle when Mother had been banished. Belladonna (Bitchadonna as far as I was concerned) had been in lockstep with Mother most of her life and was likely to carry on Mother’s unorthodox tactics. It wasn’t something Tabitha could abide and Tabitha had taken up the mantle of ‘High Witch’ after trouncing my sister in a fight. She had my full support.

  “I’ll tell her eventually,” I grumbled. “Whenever I figure out how I got myself into this mess.”

  Maverick’s brows drew together. “What do you mean, ‘figure it out?’ It’s easy to understand: rings, promises, decorations, and a minster with or without an Elvis costume. Is that ringing any bells?”

  I scrubbed my face, trying to hide the fact that my cheeks had flushed red. The images of a Vegas-style wedding were too humiliating to contemplate. Especially in light of Lorcan’s reaction to the news of our soul connection (what I termed a ‘marriage’). The bastard had been elated. If he could’ve tracked me down and proposed properly, he would have.

  Vampirism might have made him a lapsed Catholic, but the upbringing was there all the same. If Lorcan had had things his way (which I usually tried to avoid, if at all possible), he would have dragged me to the nearest altar. I didn’t even want to contemplate the absurd amount of money he would have gladly forked over for a ring. Or a ‘handcuff’ as Darla would call it. I’d never found myself agreeing with the ex-ghost more: a wedding ring felt more like a dog collar than a token of affection.

  “No, it’s not easy to grasp,” I argued. “That’s the problem. This goes deeper than promises and paperwork.” I looked up at him then. “It goes deeper than a marriage approved by the government.”

  “What does that mean?”

  I sighed. “It means that something Lorcan and I did just after the bond was dissolved connected whatever was left of my magic to him… wholly and forever.”

  “And what the spell does that mean?” he repeated, frowning more obviously.

  I sighed again. “It means that whatever this is… it’s not blood magic.”

  He started pacing again, shaking his head and throwing his arms out like he was having a seizure. “As the Goddess is my witness, I swear I shall smite you if you don’t start talking more clearly, cousin!” he yelled at me.

  “Ugh,” I muttered. “Lorcan and I are connected at the soul! How is that for talking clearly?” I demanded as the weight of my own words sunk into me and I found my attention riveted by the fire once again. “No amount of spell work can undo that.”

  “A soul connection?” Maverick repeated, spearing me with an angry expression. “Jesus—you sound like one of those blasted new-age people who are always going on about ‘the universe this’ and ‘the universe that’.”

  “Thanks,” I grumbled.

  “I need you to translate, Wanda, none of that mumbo-jumbo makes any sense to me.”

  I huffed an impatient breath. “The closest comparison I can make with a ‘soul connection’ is the bond between a vampire and their sire, but that’s not even it either.” I shook my head and felt frustration overcoming me. “I wish it was as simple as throwing a party and shoving cake into each other’s faces.”

  Speaking of cake, that was another chilling aspect of this new bond: food didn’t taste the same. It didn’t taste bad per se, but it didn’t taste good either. Regardless, I wasn’t sure how much of my new experiences I should share with my coven and with the new vampire clan who had moved to Haven Hollow, led by my brothers. Yes, we were family, but no I wasn’t sure how they’d respond. Would they be disgusted by the new aberration I was becoming? Frightened? Angry?

  Color drained from Maverick’s face. “Do you have any guesses? Just in case...”

  He trailed off, but I could fill in the unspoken words. If we could pinpoint the cause, he could avoid repeating our mistake with Janeth. Because as much as I was dismayed by a soul connection with Lorcan, I couldn’t even imagine how Maverick would feel to be soul-connected to Janeth, a woman he absolutely hated with everything inside him.

  I’d gotten lucky in the grand scheme of things. Lorcan had bumbled his way into our bond, feeding me his blood in an act of compassion. If I’d been human, the blood would have bolstered my health long enough to allow me to arrive at a hospital, where I most likely could have been saved. But I wasn’t a human so Lorcan’s blood had bonded to my magic, transforming me into a Blood Witch.

  Maverick’s would-be sire, Janeth, was a lot less cuddly than Lorcan. And I could well imagine where Maverick’s mind was going—namely to the idea of being married to a psycho witch-hunter. That would be the purest form of hell for one of our kind.

  I sucked in a deep breath, dropping my gaze from his. Cowardly of me, yes, but I couldn’t look him in the eye when I confessed the truth. It was still something I’d barely acknowledged, even to myself.

  “You’re not in danger of marrying Janeth or having a connection to her at the soul level.”

  “How can you be sure?” he demanded. He looked a little ill.

  Damn him. I didn’t want to admit the rest of this.

  Heat prickled down my neck. Goddess this was mortifying...

  “Because you didn’t… you know…”

  “No, I don’t know.”

  Ugh, he was going to make this hard on me. “You and Janeth didn’t do… the deed.”

  “What deed?”

  “For spell’s sake!”

  “What the bloody hell are you going on about?”

  “You two didn’t have sex!”

  At the mention of ‘sex’ and Janeth, Maverick managed to look more revolted than he’d been a moment before: his face screwed up in an expression of extreme disgust. And then I could see the dawning realization that crossed over his face when he realized who had had sex… Lorcan and me.

  And, yep, that was exactly the reaction I’d been expecting from him. Even Betanya and Olga had seemed reserved when they monitored my condition. As a Blood Witch, I’d been an oddity. This… well, none of us knew what this was.

  The only thing I was sure of? It was unnatural.

  “You slept with him?” Maverick asked quietly, and I was surprised because strangely, he almost sounded hurt.

  I needed time to think things through without Lorcan and Maverick and any other person badgering me about Lorcan’s and my relationship. As to the vampire, I’d been casting a custom confusion charm every day since the discovery of this soul bond just to throw him off.

  As to the charm and how it worked: a warning tingle would begin at the back of my neck whenever Lorcan was near, alerting me when I needed to vacate the premises. The charm also had the added effect of making Lorcan overlook me in a crowd and it threw him off my scent in the event he tried to track me.

  Yes, it might have seemed mean of me but I couldn’t help it. I needed my space as I tried to digest these feelings that wouldn’t leave me alone. And the last thing I needed was Lorcan breathing down my neck as I tried to swallow everything that had happened. Regardless, the charm was starting to lose its potency and that meant soon Lorcan and I would need to talk. And I really wasn’t looking forward to that.

  “Why does it matter?” I asked, looking up at Maverick with a discouraging expression.

  “Why does it matter?” he repeated, looking at me like I’d just killed his rabbit. “I don’t understand why you’d do… do that... with a vampire!” He dropped his gaze and shook his head. “Not only is it completely disgusting on every level… it’s wrong.”

  I seized my glass and downed the last of what was on my mind with the wine. It tasted especially sour, but that was probably just a projection. The glass wobbled dangerously when I set it down, but I wasn’t concerned. Instead, I stood, brushing imaginary wrinkles from my blouse.

  “That’s none of your business,” I snapped, completely and totally over this conversation. “Whatever happened between Lorcan and me is my business and the only reason I even brought it up was to try to assuage your concerns about the same thing happening to you and Janeth.” I took a deep breath. “And where that subject is concerned, I gave you my working theory.”

  “Your working theory?”

  I nodded. “If you don’t seduce Janeth, you’re probably in the clear. What or who I do on my own time is none of your concern.”

  “Wanda, wait—” he began as I started past him.

  But I didn’t pause or look back.

  I reached the front door and wrenched it open, ignoring the pricking sensation at the corner of my eyes. Maverick didn’t deserve this reaction. I was the High Witch of the Scapegrace Coven and I didn’t cry. Not over trivial matters, and especially not over my jealous, pain-in-the-ass cousin.

  But deep down, I wondered if he had a point.

  Chapter Three

  My shop was eerily silent, but for the occasional curse from Maverick’s corner.

  We’d struck a bargain before he’d joined the coven which stipulated that he’d work off the cost of the fabrics he’d stolen from me the year before.

  Now, Maverick had taken on the more laborious work of stitching spells into the undersides or accents of the clothing I made. Written (or in this case) stitched spells were incredibly potent, but most witches didn’t have the patience to etch every incantation. Quick and dirty spoken magic was the norm, even if in many ways stitched spells were both stronger and lasted longer. I’d noticed an uptick in sales since bringing Maverick on, which suited me just fine.

  Unfortunately for me but fortunately for Maverick, he was close to paying off his debt. Yet, he hadn’t given me any indication that he wanted to leave. I figured that would probably have changed after I’d outed myself to him while drunk.

  Since that day, we’d barely spoken a word to each other, only breaking the silence to address the customers who sidled in. And tonight I was considering turning in early, just to escape the oppressive weight of words unspoken between us. Mondays were generally slow anyway, and every order had already been filled. At this rate, Maverick and I were getting ahead of the curve.

  I glanced out of the wide shop window and watched the orangey light that reflected back at me from Poppy’s shop. Her store would be closing soon, as well, so she could get back home to her teenage son. Finn was only a handful of years younger than Astrid and at thirteen, he was old enough now that he could basically look out for himself—at least, for short periods of time. Not to mention he was pretty much safe with my brood of abominations living nearby: Libby, a zombie and former housewife, would happily watch over Finn to cover any extended hours that Poppy might need her. But if there was one thing Poppy refused to compromise on, it was her son, so the truncated hours remained, and would likely do so until Finn went off to college. Maybe even after. The gypsy was strange like that.

  “Do you want to close shop early… after you finish that section of spellwork?” I asked Maverick.

  The words sounded too loud after the quiet between us. Maverick actually jerked in surprise, jabbing his finger with a needle. He withdrew the injured digit with a curse, cradling his hand so his blood wouldn’t stain the angora dress he was working on. There was no telling how his now vampire-infused magic would react to the potion-treated fabric. Any time my blood had gotten involved with someone else’s magic, it invariably had some strange consequences. I should have been concerned about the repercussions but I couldn’t say I was.

  Instead, I couldn’t stop staring at the perfect ruby droplet that had formed on Maverick’s thumb. For a moment I had the absurd impulse to snatch his hand and bring his finger to my mouth, clearing the droplet from his skin with my tongue. The sheer alien nature of the thought froze me in place, so I could only watch in resentment as Maverick wiped the blood onto a tissue.

  Wasteful.

  No, I argued with myself. It’s not wasteful, it’s sane. Blood is not meant to ingest!

  Or it hadn’t been until now.

  I’d been too queasy to test my theory, but the evidence was certainly pointing me in this direction. My blood bond with Lorcan had made my senses more acute, and it had given me a nervousness about usual vampire weaknesses like turning to ash in the sun. Even so, I could go outside in daylight without too much anxiety and I could eat Italian food without wanting to puke. I’d expected the inane fears to go away when our blood bond was dissolved, but if anything, the fears had gotten worse. I could barely taste anything I ate anymore, I felt shaky and nauseous during daylight hours, and I’d been curling into a closet or the gap under my bed to sleep when Hellcat wasn’t in residence (the pest had most recently taken to spending most of his time in his cat pad, complete with various female cats from the area).

  The nature of this new bond with Lorcan was unknown and terrifying. I wasn’t sure who I was or even what I was anymore. How did you know what was normal when you were one of a kind?

  “What?” Maverick asked, dabbing at the puncture in his thumb. The needle hadn’t gotten him deep, so the flecks of blood were small. It was disturbingly disappointing.

  It took me a moment to remember what I’d been saying, and when I found my voice, it came out a little hoarse. “I was asking if you wanted to close up early. I have to help Astrid with her paperwork.”

  “What paperwork?”

  “College applications.”

  Just a week ago, we’d celebrated three combined birthdays: Fifi’s in June, Poppy’s in July and now Astrid’s eighteenth birthday which had just passed, in August.

  Maverick frowned at me. “College? I wasn’t aware she was even interested in more schooling.” He repeated the word a little wistfully. Remorse twisted beneath my ribs when I remembered he hadn’t had much in the way of higher education, magical or otherwise. “That sounds nice. Where is she thinking of going… Oregon State University or...?”

  “Blood Rose Academy,” I answered with a laugh. “She got a letter notifying her that she qualifies for a scholarship there.”

  “Really?”

  I nodded. “It’s probably political since I’m her guardian and the school’s founder likes to have inroads with all the major players in the supernatural world, and High Witches in particular. And Astrid is related to two High Witches now. That’s nepotism at its finest. If not for her connections, she would have been on a waiting list for years. They’re very selective there.”

  Maverick set his needle and thread aside and set about bandaging his injured finger. I was grateful. It would be rude to ogle his thumb while we talked. Especially because his thumb wasn’t the appendage he wanted me to ogle.

  “I’m afraid I haven’t heard of it,” he said, leaning against the checkout counter with a frown.

  The corner of my mouth lifted. “Don’t say that in front of Hellcat.”

  “Why’s that?”

  I laughed. “Because he’s a bourgeoisie asshole, who will think your ignorance isn’t a form of bliss.”

  “I don’t give a stuff what that stupid cat thinks.”

  I nodded. “Well, that makes two of us.”

  “And that school—is it full of bourgeoisie assholes like your familiar?”

  I cocked my head to the side and wanted to lie to him because I could see the anger already brewing in his eyes. But I wasn’t a good liar. “Most the students there are from legacy families, yes.”

  Maverick snorted. “Ah, so it’s basically just another witch’s coven, only this one full of younger members, but all just as entitled.”