Chapter 11

Ijolt awake, the top of my head slamming into the bottom of the bed and making me swear loudly.

‘Gods damn it,' I groan, rubbing my forehead.

Like I haven't been concussed enough.

The pillows remain on the floor beside me with the guys' head dips left behind, and when I've blinked the sleep and bang to my head clear, I spot a note left on Shaw's pillow. I reach over and take it.

Come downstairs when you're awake.

After a quick peek, I know the room is empty. I slide out and head to the bathroom.

There are no mirrors in sight and a very obvious pale patch on the wall above the basin where one was. I run my fingers over it, glad of its absence. When I see the mess on my left arm, I feel sick.

‘Fuck me…' I whisper, inspecting myself. There are dark markings from my wrist all the way up to my elbow. They're in the deepest reds and look like lightning mixed with strange swirls.

It's actually quite pretty.

Considering they're blood magic kindred markings.

It's a complicated piece of information to take in and accept. Not only am I a blood witch, but a powerful one. And apparently, I have been one since I was a baby.

I see the Kindred markings from last night. Deep red again, and looking like the various stages of the moon cycle, along with what I think is a tree of shadows with roots spreading across the back of my hand.

I swallow and grip the hem of the shirt one of the guys put me in.

Before I can change my mind, I pull it off. It's a good while before I get the courage to look.

I let out a shaky breath as I see the scars on my stomach. Considering there were none there yesterday, it's one hell of a shock. I remember the one on my left. Father struck me, and I fell onto a vase. A shard of it stuck into me.

Unable to see my back, I reach behind me and let my fingers glide over my skin. It's no longer a smooth, soft surface but rough and raised. It makes sense. My father has beaten me with his cane, his belt, books, fire pokers and even a riding crop. I was foolish for thinking his many lashings wouldn't leave a mark. He would say that he never struck me as hard as I cried, or there would be marks left behind.

Now I know. I had the marks. They were just hidden from view.

I hold my arms before me. Two Kindreds. I mean… that's pretty impressive. That's powerful, by any standards. And as a blood witch, that makes me a real force to be fucked with.

It's a shame that my magic will drive me mad with power and turn my soul as dark as the Goddess Hel herself.

I return my mother's bracelet to my wrist. In an instant, the scars and marks disappear. My skin is once more smooth and pristine.

Better safe than sorry. The last thing I need is to be seen with two blood kindreds.

Washed and dressed in an oversized black shirt and a pair of dark trousers I have to tie up with a belt, I stand by the bedroom door.

My choices are limited. Non-existent, really. Do I stay up here and hide?

Or do I go down there and accept this new situation? Own it. Well… as much as I can.

The chain around my neck is shorter this morning and trails down my cleavage a little. It could pass as a necklace. I'm not tethered to anything or anyone.

A light hissing sound has me standing stock still. Even more so when I look to the corner of the open window and see a snake's head slither through from outside. Its violet eyes are a violent contrast to the deep black of its head. I can't seem to look away, held fast in its gaze.

‘Hello,' I offer. ‘Not sure why I just said hello to a snake, but there you go.' I step closer, admiring its deep blue body speckled with stunning purple. ‘You're beautiful.'

I saw snakes a lot back home. Living in the forests, I'm used to spotting them slithering past me. I've even nabbed a few that managed to sneak into my bedroom.

Never one this beautiful, though. I'm transfixed.

I want to touch it. It's all I can think about. Of all the snakes I have seen, I've never had the compulsion to hold one before.

It moves closer, hovering a few inches towards me, and I swear I can feel a connection between us. It wants to touch me just as much as I want to touch it.

I hold out my hand, giving room for it to choose.

Its tongue darts out, scenting the air.

‘You're not poisonous, are you?' I mutter, stepping closer.

It meets my outstretched hand, meeting my fingers and gliding up my hand and around my wrist.

‘Woah…' As soon as it touches me, I feel a power flow between us. Its skin shimmers, and suddenly, its pattern matches my kindred markings. ‘You're no ordinary snake, are you?'

It wraps around my wrist and between my fingers, making its way up my arm and neck. It can't be any longer than seventeen inches long and no thicker than two of my fingers. After a wrap-around of my throat, it travels down my arm and settles.

‘Well… okay then,' I concede.

The snake has chosen me. I may be a blood witch, but I grew up as an earth witch. And if I know anything, nature is a force unto itself. If she chooses you, be it a storm, a wolf leading you astray, or apparently, a snake slithering up your arm, you don't argue.

I open the door to find the banshee standing there. Her orange dress hugs her curves. Every curl in her hair lies perfectly. She smiles, revealing those razor-sharp teeth, and her orange eyes glow.

‘Good morning,' she greets, her voice smooth and seductive. Her smile falters as she looks at my clothes. ‘What on earth are you wearing?'

I look at my clothes. Well, Shaw's clothes. His trousers and his black shirt. My feet are bare as his boots are ridiculously large.

‘Have the masters not provided you with any dresses?'

‘They did,' I reply. ‘But they want me to wear them. So I won't.'

Immature of me? Absolutely. But I will take any small victories I can get with them. No matter how small or petty.

With a tut, she starts fiddling with them, tucking the shirt in here, and unbuttoning it there. With another tut, she undoes my hair from the string I had it tied up with and fluffs it over my shoulders.

‘Now. That's better,' she sighs. ‘You are to follow me. My masters have summoned you.'

‘Summoned me?' I have flashes of another dank room. A table of dark instruments. Blood. Pain.

‘Yes.' She turns on her heel and starts walking. ‘They do that. Summon. So. How are you enjoying the castle?'

‘I'll let you know when I actually see it,' I reply as I follow her. ‘Where am I going?'

‘Follow me,' she sings, leading me down a long hall. ‘I'll show you.'

The halls are cold and endless. Each one leads to another and another. We pass countless doors made of thick, solid wood. She tells me what lies where. I hear mention of libraries and studies. Of empty bedrooms and storage spaces. We descend stairs and travel along corridors, and on the ground floor, we pass others. They keep their heads down and wear the same brown dresses. The females that I saw the first night wore the same thing. They called them their masters, too, and obeyed the commands they gave them with a courteous bow. None of them lifts their heads, but they glance at me with brief, stolen looks.

The banshee eventually stops, turns to face me and offers me what would be a brilliant smile if not for the lines of razor-sharp teeth.

She's placed herself slap bang in front of the door, her hand on her hip and her eyes taking another slow analysis of my clothing.

‘Am I supposed to go in there?' I ask, nodding to the door she's blocking.

‘Yes.'

‘Are you going to move aside?'

I hear Shaw talking to someone on the other side of the door. He mentions my name, and the banshee's eyes actually narrow as if I've insulted her.

‘They want me. Do you mind?' I nod for her to move.

‘You are a strange little pet for them to play with. Plain. Much more simple and boring than the rest of us.' Her hip pops out, accentuating her curves. ‘They usually like to play with much more experienced and alluring creatures. Not little mud witches who ran away from home because she was too scared of a few little pricks on Rite Night.'

‘Excuse me?'

‘The whole castle is talking about it.'

‘About what?'

‘About you running away from the coven's Rite, of course,' she giggles. ‘And throwing yourself at my masters' mercy. Begging them to take you in.'

‘Begging them?' I scoff.

‘You would have been better off where you were,' she says, lowering her voice as if sharing a secret. But that smirk says she's revelling in every second. She steps closer. ‘You might last a week or two here with them,' she declares. ‘Master Dorian is likely to snap your neck if you irritate him. And my Master Ronan is insatiable.' She bites her lip and looks dreamily into nothing, recalling a delicious memory. ‘He will not put up with your inexperience and frigidness. I know what he likes. And it is not you. It is not a simple little mud witch who was so scared of sex she ran away from being the wife of a coven leader.'

‘You have no fucking idea who I am, Banshee.'

She looks at me and lets out a small laugh. ‘But… I'm going to say that Master Archie will be the one to go too far and end your fragile little life. He's a strange male with unusual tastes. Even for me.' The bitch taps the end of my nose. ‘And I should know.'

‘Is that right,' I reply, taking a step towards her, sure to hold a polite smile. ‘Maybe it will be Shaw that breaks me in half with his massive cock.' Her eye twitches as, inside the room, Archie bursts out with laughter. Her smugness fades, and jealousy brims in her eyes. ‘Or perhaps they all will the next time they surround me on the bed. When they take off my clothes and take it in turns to fuck me with their tongues and fingers. When they all make me scream in pleasure.' I relish how her entire face fills with a jealous rage. I tap the end of her nose in just the same condescending way she did to me. ‘They ever do that to you, Banshee?'

‘You won't last,' she says. ‘I will.'

‘Perhaps they are bored of monstrous whores,' I reply. ‘Excuse me, Banshee. Your masters are waiting for me.' I move her aside, clearing my path to the door.

‘Fuck off, Banshee!' Archie calls, still laughing. ‘Pixie. Get in here.'

She fades to orange smoke, her warning glare lingering.

Well. That was fun.

And for a moment, I actually thought knowing a banshee would be fun. Exciting, even.

Turns out they're the same as any other female who is jealous of not getting the attention they feel entitled to.

Same as Thalia.

I hear a massive crash, and Shaw swears loudly. Archie bursts into even more hysterics, and Dorian groans loudly.

‘Not sure they're meant to be on the floor, Shaw, ' Dorian says.

‘I'm aware of that, Dorian,' he drawls back. ‘Thanks for stating the obvious.'

When I open the door, the most delicious smell greets me.

Cooked pork, roasted potatoes, baked berries with pastry and sugar.

I look at the three warlord immortals and am left utterly stunned.

Dorian has flour over his cheek and hair. His grey shirt is stained with red. At first, I think it's blood, but on closer inspection, I see it's a mixture of crushed berries.

Shaw has a tray of roasted vegetables in his hand. Half of which have fallen to the floor. He's utterly dishevelled, and behind him is a pile of burnt potatoes.

Archie is in the middle of placing a sprig of rosemary on a perfectly roasted pork joint.

And all three look at me.

No words come to mind. The entire kitchen looks like it's been ransacked. Ingredients cover the floor, surfaces and even the walls.

‘What are you doing?' I ask, stepping inside, my foot crushing a rogue carrot. ‘I thought you didn't eat food.'

‘No. But you do,' Archie beams, proudly gesturing to the perfectly prepared meat on the table. ‘Surprise.'

‘You… you cooked… for me?'

‘Well. I did.' Archie chuckles and looks at Dorian and Ronan. ‘Not sure what those two are doing.'

‘I made a red berry pie,' Dorian replies indignantly, gesturing to what I think is supposed to be a baked latticed pie. It's a little burnt on one side, the filling has spilled out, and the lattice is a twisted mess. But the cooked sugar and sweet filling has my mouth watering.

Then I look at Shaw.

‘I dropped the tray,' he says, sadly looking at the fallen vegetables. ‘Saved as many as I could. You like parsnips?'

‘I've never had parsnips,' I reply, still stunned. Behind him, black smoke starts coming from the oven. ‘Erm. I think something's burning.'

Dorian rushes over and rescues… I have no idea what.

‘Forgot about the bread,' he grumbles, dropping the charcoal mess on the table. ‘Sorry, Poppet.'

I choose to ignore his ridiculous nickname. Nothing else seems to register with me anyway.

‘You all cooked for me?' I repeat, the words not quite making sense.

Archie pulls out a chair, brushes off the flour and carrot peel, and gestures for me to sit.

‘I don't get it,' I say.

‘What's not to get?' Archie asks. ‘It's food. You eat it.'

‘But you don't. Why have you done this?'

‘It was Archie's idea,' Dorian says. ‘And he wouldn't shut up until we agreed.'

Archie walks over and stops close, looking down at me. I tense, watching his hands, preparing to be grabbed or something. He notices me staring and makes a point of cupping his hands behind his back.

‘We haven't gotten off to the best start,' he says.

My brow raises. No fucking shit we haven't.

‘Yeah, you've kidnapped me and have a chain around my neck.'

‘But in the grand scheme of things, you're much better off here than back where we found you.' His gaze scans my body, and I know he's seeing the marks beneath the clothes. The proof of the beatings, hidden by the glamour. ‘And we are much better off with you and your blood here with us. A fresh start, yes? Holy fuck. I'm sorry, but do you have a fucking snake wrapped around your arm?' he asks, pointing at precisely that. ‘She does.' He turns to Shaw. ‘She has a mother fucking snake wrapped around her arm!'

Dorian steps back, bumping into the counter and visibly pales. ‘What the hell is that thing?' he stammers.

I get the impression he isn't a fan. I hold her up, admiring her, and he and Archie both recoil.

‘She's just a little snake,' I laugh. ‘You two are immortal warriors. Surely you're not scared of her.' I hold her closer to them, and they both step back.

‘Where did you find her?' Shaw asks, putting down the tray and coming to take a look for himself.

‘She came to me.' His eyes shine as he looks at her. He actually smiles. ‘Back home, we're taught never to disregard a gift from nature. It's sacrilege. And when a living creature comes to you, it's an honour. Not sure what kind of snake she is. I've never seen one like her before.'

‘She's a Kedar,' Shaw says, taking my elbow and lifting it. ‘A very rare breed.' He blinks and looks from her to me. ‘She's also the most poisonous creature on the planet. One bite delivers enough venom to kill a hundred mortal men.'

‘Could she kill you?'

His lip twitches in a smile. ‘No, Pixie. It would hurt like hell but wouldn't kill us. So don't get any ideas.'

His hand wraps around mine so our forearms touch. The hairs on my skin stand up, and I erupt in goosebumps.

He's too busy watching the snake to notice.

The Kedar slithers across to him and wraps around his arm. Her tongue darts out as her head lifts, and the two look at each other for the longest time. Unblinking. Unmoving.

‘Ronan?' Archie says nervously.

Shaw doesn't answer but continues in this strange stare-off until she breaks away and returns to me.

‘Kill the fucking thing, Ronan!' Dorian hisses.

I hold her closer to my chest, feeling strangely protective over her.

‘You will not kill her!' I insist.

‘If that creature bites her, she'll be dead in a second,' Dorian reminds him.

‘The snake's a familiar, Dorian,' Shaw replies, walking to a cupboard and pulling out a liquor bottle. ‘Its markings mimic her kindred. Almost all kindred witches have a familiar.'

‘I've never seen a witch with a deadly snake before,' Archie says. 'They're usually cats or something.'

‘Well, hers is a Kedar. And the only thing that snake may kill is a threat to our Pixie.'

‘So… you?' I counter, hitching a brow and suddenly even more fond of my snake friend.

‘Obviously,' Shaw scoffs, pulling free the cork and drinking heavily from the bottle. ‘That's why she just bit me. Sit, Pixie. Eat.'

The snake slithers from my arm and lands on the table as I sink into a chair.

Archie tucks my chair in as the others prepare a plate.

A full meal is placed before me, and they sit. All three look on, watching with anxious excitement. Three huge men, covered in scars that drink blood, all on the edge of their seats as I pick up a fork.

‘It's not poisoned, is it?'

‘No.'

‘This is the strangest breakfast I have ever had.'

‘Get on with it,' Archie grins, stabbing a slice of meat with a fork and then shoving it into my mouth.

‘Oh-my-gods!' I moan loudly and without restraint, losing myself to the tenderness of it on my tongue, the full-bodied taste and utterly delicious seasoning. When I go to take the fork, he smacks my hand away and gets some of the vegetables. He feeds me another mouthful, and my whole body explodes in goosebumps.

‘Good?' Archie asks, his whole face riddled with childlike excitement.

‘Delicious!' I correct, grabbing a roasted parsnip and shoving it into my mouth.

The snake is winding between the plates, and Dorian refuses to look away from her.

‘You scared of snakes?' I ask him.

‘I'm not scared of shit,' he snipes back but flinches when she flicks her head in his direction as if slighted by his words.

I carry on eating, shovelling food into my face with manners that would have earned me a punishment from Father.

But the boys seem amused, watching me ravage their creations.

‘So,' I ask Shaw. ‘You and the banshee?'

Dorian and Archie look at him. Shaw shrugs and nods to the food.

‘You can fatten me up and answer my question.'

‘No questions today,' he replies. ‘Just eating and rest.'

‘What do I have to do to earn my three questions?'

‘I can think of a few things,' Archie replies.

‘No questions today.' Shaw stands. ‘And don't antagonise the banshee. She's not something to piss off. Stay clear of her.'

‘How do I do that? She appears in smoke, and besides, you sent her to me.'

‘You know… I've only ever seen the banshee in that one dress. And we haven't brought her anything. Where does she even sleep?' Archie scratches his head. ‘Do banshees go to the toilet?'

‘You get very easily distracted, Archie.' I laugh.

His eyes widen as he looks at me.

‘We went through this. Master.'

My snake gives him a hiss, and he promptly removes his elbows from the table before giving his best attempt at a hiss back to her.

I swear, she rolls her eyes before slithering back to me.

‘Are you still going to the Coven today?' I ask, attempting to sound uncaring.

‘Yes.' Shaw grabs his coat from the back of the chair. ‘We are.'

‘We? Am I coming?'

They all laugh at that suggestion.

‘No. We are not returning you to a powerful group of witches that want to kill you. Dorian and I are going. You are staying here. Rest. Food.'

‘What are you going to do when you get there?' I ask.

‘Make sure she eats some more food,' he tells Archie, ignoring my question.

‘The banshee thinks I ran away from them,' I add.

‘Yes.' Shaw straightens his collar. ‘And if anyone asks, that's what you say. You ran from your coven, and I granted you refuge here. Don't roll your eyes, Pixie. What would you have us say? The truth? I'll be sure to wave at your skull when I pass it on the gates if the truth ever does come out.'

As he heads to the door, he crouches so he's eye level with me.

‘As much as I enjoy seeing you in my clothes, I'm curious if you have chosen to wear them because you're covering the marks we've discovered on your body or if it's to get a reaction. The truth now.'

‘I'm sorry. You have no questions today,' I smile, tilting my head to the side. ‘Try again tomorrow.'

His eyes narrow as he sees the bracelet on my wrist.

‘I could get you some dresses from the village that cover the scars if you like. Ones with long sleeves? They'll cover the Kindred markings, too.'

‘If you find my scars disgusting, don't look at them.'

‘I don't give a shit about them, Pixie. Except for the fact that someone dared put them on you. So, as I said, I will get you some dresses if you want to cover them up.'

‘Don't do that,' I reply, meeting his intense stare, my smile faltering.

‘Do what?'

‘Be nice to me. You're not nice.'

‘We might be nice.'

I stand, the chair legs scraping as the chair slides back. He rises to maintain eye contact.

‘I don't want to be walking on eggshells here. Be you. Be what I expect. Don't be kind because when you go back to being a dick head, it will be a disappointment.' I look at them all. ‘Thank you for the meal. I'll clean the mess up. Tell my coven I say hi.'

Shaw grabs my elbow as I turn to deal with the dishes. He points at me.

‘You do not antagonise anything you meet.'

‘Anything?' I repeat.

‘If a door is closed, you do not open it. You can get some air, explore the grounds, but don't go too far. And if you try to run-'

‘I know. You'll hunt me down and kill me.'

‘No. We'll hunt you down and make you sorry. Understood?'

I hiss as his bite burns my shoulder.

Like I have a choice. He's just compelled me.

‘Yes,' I grind back through clenched teeth.

‘Yes… what?'

‘Yes, Master.' I offer him a sickly and incredibly patronising smile.

The snake hisses at him, so he looks it straight in the eye.

‘You protect our Pixie. Keep her safe. I'll bring back something delicious for you if you do. Deal?'

The snake fucking nods and slithers another loop around my arm.

Traitor.

‘Archie will be staying here.' Shaw side-eyes Archie. ‘Hands to yourself, Archie. We need her in one piece.'

Archie gives a very patronising salute as he leans back and rests his feet on the table.

Dorian and Shaw leave.

I get to work on cleaning up.

‘You know…' Archie says with that damned smile. ‘If you wanna clean in the nude, I'm totally cool with that.'

I scoff. Loudly.

‘In your dreams, dog boy.'

With my back turned, I smile, enjoying his gentle chuckle.

It took a good couple of hours to get their kitchen back to what I think it was before. But judging by the inches of dust, I don't think it's ever been cleaned. I didn't mind. It kept me busy, and it was nice to be able to control something for a while. To see a task and complete it. I try not to think of what they'll find at the coven. I wonder how many survived. Who died. Is Cole still alive? Did they find my father?

And what will Shaw and Dorian do? They seemed pissed when they found out about the trigger. Part of me wishes I went with them.

Only a tiny part.

These feelings of vengeance are strong. They're overpowering. I'm not used to it and can't help but wonder if the blood magic is responsible. But then I remember what the fuckers did, and I think my feelings toward my old earth coven are more than justified.

Every scrap of food I could save has been stored away for later. Who knows when I'll get a meal like that again. Archie got bored and left after half an hour or so, saying he wanted to stretch his legs. He reminded me to behave, but not too much. Because where would the fun be in that?

I reach out for the Kedar snake. She slithers around my wrist, and we head out to explore.

When my bare feet touch the earth, and the cool air fills my lungs, I can't contain the bliss-filled sigh I let out.

Space and sky and trees. Perfect.

Wriggling my toes, I revel in the damp soil, and without hesitation, I head towards the treeline of the dense woods.

The woodlands are ancient. The trees are some of the biggest I have ever seen, with gnarled roots that twist and bend deep beneath the soil and high around their trunks. The canopy above is lush and wonderfully green. The forest back home isn't a patch on this. Strange, I think. Considering how we're an Earth Coven. The sanctity and life of nature are our pride and pleasure to maintain. After all, we are nothing without the power of the earth. Just as water witches are nothing without the sea, and air witches are nothing without a breeze.

I wonder again about what is happening back home. If Dorian and Shaw are there right now. Of what they are doing.

‘Stop it,' I hiss, scorning myself.

My old coven may as well be dead. I sure as hell am to them. And I certainly will be if they ever get their hands on me again.

I stop when I hear a sad little bleat. I follow the sound and see a small fawn lying on its side. Its leg is badly damaged. When it shifts, a huge gash on its side becomes visible. I retch when organs slither out.

‘You poor little thing,' I comfort, kneeling at its side. ‘Something took a chunk out of you, didn't it?'

Its sad little cries break my heart. It's not uncommon to see injured and dying animals in the forests. I've seen countless. It happens, but it doesn't get any easier.

This fawn will never recover. Its death will take a few hours.

My hand rests on the wound, and as soon as I feel its warm blood, I gasp and pull away. The instant connection to the blood has my heart pounding and a strength coursing through me with dizzying force. Instant power. Unmistakable and so fucking tempting. My palm hovers over the bleeding creature. The pull is intense. Unlike anything I could ever hope to compare it to. The closer I get, the more it calls. The more it promises.

Power. Magic. Strength.

The closer I go, my fingers flex in need. In want.

My hand stops, trembling with desperation to feel that warm blood. To take that power. It's mine. Mine and no one else's. I'm owed it. I own it!

No.

My palm rests on the soil, and I close my eyes, feeling the connection to the earth's magic moving like a stream below. It ebbs and flows. Ripples of energy and strength. Roots and vines grow over my palm, wrapping around my wrist and tightening. My other hand rests on the fawn.

And I channel that power. I become a link between the two. The magic I take from the earth is used to heal the fawn. It's a drain. It makes me ache, and every passing second is exhausting.

But that is what magic is. Taking energy from one place and making it something better for something else. Making fruit ripen. Flowers bloom. Soil fertile. Healing what is sick. Fixing what is broken.

When I open my eyes, the gash on its side closes, and on shaky legs, it stumbles upright. The baby leans in, its forehead meeting mine in unspoken thanks, before bounding away and becoming lost to the endless trees surrounding us.

The fawn was healed, and I'm left all the weaker for it.

But that's ok.

That's what earth magic is for.

Balance. Nurturing. Health and life.

The exact opposite of blood magic. If I had drained that creature, I would be strong. My powers remarkable.

But the fawn would be dead. And my soul all the blacker for it.

I carry on, telling myself I am an earth witch. Not a blood witch. I choose what I am. When I can, at least. They will use my powers if they have a need for them. But I will not choose it. In the same way I will not choose to end up in their cells if I can help it. Or get torn apart by a banshee.

Or broken by the three warlords and their strange habits.

I wonder what the banshee meant by saying Archie was the one she believed would end me. Shaw delivered a similar warning, stating Archie doesn't know his limits. Nor anyone else's.

Strange, because out of the three, I'd be more inclined to trust the wolf than the shadow master or the dream walker.

But, then again, I'm a terrible judge of character. I was to marry Cole, after all. And he was arse fucking my best friend behind my back the whole time.

I continue to walk. The sun is warm. The air is clean. My fingertips dance in the long grass. They caress tree trunks. Glide across rocks and sink into moss. I listen to the wind making the wilderness dance. I smile at the chorus of insects and birds. I'm home out here. No mirrors. No locked doors. Just me and the world.

I think on my Kindred. Damn my brain, constantly reminding me of the shit I would rather forget.

I reanimated a dead cat.

Does that mean I can do that? Bring back the dead? I heard stories of necromancy from the war. Blood witches reanimated hundreds of the dead to fight for them. They couldn't be stopped easily, seeing as they were already dead and all.

My fingers trace where the dark marks of the Kindred should be if not for the glamour. Mirrors and I have never really mixed. The shadows have always been there, lurking.

I have never seen a dark mirror before. A window into the beyond, I heard someone say once. I can't remember who. But the shadows have been there since I was a child. So the scar and the markings have been there, too. Hidden from sight.

Death seems to be my Kindred.

Necromancy and communing with lost souls.

Great. Because nothing bad ever happens when you play with dead things.

I should ask the guys if I can see if I have an Earth Kindred, too.

I did connect to the Earth Coven, after all.

Bile rises in my throat as soon as I think of that night. Of my hand over the fire. Of the look on Cole's face when my blood reacted to the flames. My pulse quickens, and I feel sick to my stomach. I put my head between my knees to stop the world from spinning.

Cut. Cut. Cut.

My skin stings over the places they all sliced me. My thighs press together at the memory of that blade. And rage pounds inside me as I see my father run away and Cole look me dead in the eye as he bent Thalia over.

For some reason, I grip the silver chain around my neck and pull it tight, forcing it to pinch my skin until it hurts. Until I struggle to breathe.

Pain.

That's real.

This I can control. It's mine to start and stop. My pain. Not theirs.

Mine.

Tighter. Tighter.

When the deafening sound of my pumping blood settles and my emotions become my own once more, I release the chain.

Breathe. Just breathe. In and out. I'm not at the rite. I'm in a beautiful forest. No blades. No fire.

Breathe.

In the distance, I hear the peaceful trickling of water. I've always loved the water. I find that a little stream has carved a winding path through the woodland. Ancient Ivy-clad trees and giant ferns line the banks. Chunks of flattened slate jut up through the tumbling water, all covered in thick moss.

The water calls to me. I roll up the legs of my trousers and clamber down, dipping my feet into the water.

I stand there, feeling it rush past me, painfully cold and irresistibly fresh. I close my eyes and listen to it. Listen to the sound of the birds. The rustle of the ferns and canopy above that dance in the wind.

Everything inside me calms.

My racing heart. My anger and fear. My uncertainty and confusion. The intense sense of betrayal. My growing urge to go back to my coven and slaughter the fucking lot. A new emotion, I grant you. But a powerful one.

All of it abandons me. All there is is this.

When I open my eyes, I start walking against the current. It's not long until I hear the unmistakable sound of a waterfall. Ten minutes later, I come to a sheer climb where the stream tumbles down from above. Gripping the roots and vines, I climb, pulling myself upwards onto the first of three ridges. There's another climb ahead. It's not too large but high enough to know it will hurt if I misstep and fall.

I reach the second ridge and take a moment to admire the view.

Then I climb the third. Water crashes down on my face, soaking me through entirely, making me laugh out loud as I slip and slide all over the place.

But when I reach the top, I know it was all worth it.

‘Wow…' I whisper.

Ahead, a sixty-foot-high waterfall cascades down into this crystal clear pool. Great purple vines with pink flowers trail the rockface, swaying from the rushing water's breeze. Firebugs and dragonflies skim the water's surface, and a light mist swirls in the air.

I walk towards it, drawn to its beauty.

To its power.

This is a spiritual place, there's no doubt.

Water witches must have worshipped this place before they were driven out to the edges of the sea.

Walking closer to the waterfall, I find markings carved into the slate beneath the water. Blessings in an ancient tongue. Slips of coloured ribbon containing wishes, prayers, promises and regrets have been tied to the trees surrounding the waterfall.

I put the Kedar snake onto a rock and out of the way of the water before stripping. Then, I wade to the base of the waterfall, my entire lower half disappearing in the pristine waters.

I laugh loudly at the shock of the chill but revel in it nonetheless.

My hands run through my long hair and over my body. Sinking to my knees, I slip below the water completely.

Every muscle relaxes. I make sure of it, starting from my shoulders to my stomach and then my legs, releasing the tension and stress, thanking the waterfall for permitting me to find peace within it.

There's a splash as something lands in the water. I resubmerge with a yelp, seeing Archie standing before me, completely and utterly naked.

‘Fucking hell!' I gasp, slamming my hands over my eyes, seeing as I'm crouching and his cock is precisely level with my head. But if I stand, he'll see I'm naked, too. ‘What the hell are you doing here? And why are you naked?!'

‘What's the matter with you? Never seen a dick before?'

I peek through my hands and see him standing proudly before me.

I promptly re-cover my eyes.

‘You're naked as well,' he reminds me.

‘Please put your knob away.'

‘Okay, fine. I'm submerged, Pixie.' He taps my shoulder.

He's crouching down when I look, so only the top half of his chest is on show.

‘I forget that mud witches are seriously prudish.'

‘I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting a naked shifter to land in front of me with his massive dick swinging in my face.'

He grins. ‘Why, thank you for noticing its massiveness,' he says, beaming from ear to ear.

‘Why are you naked?' I repeat in a snap.

‘I was out running in my wolf form. Caught your scent in the trees. Why are you naked?'

‘Bathing, I guess.'

We face one another, the waterfall cascading just behind us and our bodies half submerged in the sparkling water.

‘Am I in trouble?' I ask, glancing around us, half expecting to see Shaw and Dorian standing there with a scowl. But there's no one else here. ‘I just wanted to get some air. I wasn't trying to run away or anything.'

He shakes his head. ‘Nope. Not in trouble.' He glances up at the cascading water behind us. ‘You found the falls.'

I keep my eyes on him as he looks up, a cute look of wonderment on his face. Unlike the other two, he has a childlike feel about him. A playful immaturity.

I take a moment to admire the beads of water sliding down his chest and over those perfectly lean and sculpted muscles.

‘My eyes are up here, Pixie.'

With an exaggerated blink, I meet his gaze again.

‘You often run naked?' I ask.

‘I do when I'm in wolf form. You've seen the size of me. My clothes get torn to shit when I shift in them.'

‘You were just running?'

‘Well. I was also hunting. Looking for a deer or something. Do you like deer?'

‘You were hunting for me?'

He shrugs as if, yeah, that's obvious.

‘You'll get the nice bits. Some creatures in the castle will polish off the rest. Hetty likes bones, and the banshee likes eyes and tongues. Kieran will take the fur.'

‘Who are Hetty and Kieran?'

‘Hetty is a siren. Kieran is a Fae.'

‘You have a siren and a Fae back at the castle?' I ask, utterly stunned and transfixed at the complete ridiculousness of his statement. ‘Sirens and Fae are extinct.'

‘Well. She had her scales skinned off her when she was a child, so she can't go into the water, and her voice box was stolen, so she can't lure anyone to their deaths. And Kieran's wings were hacked off decades ago so he can't fly. And without wings, Fae have no worthwhile magic. They may well be the last ones left. I certainly haven't seen any others since the war.'

‘That's awful. Who did that to them?'

‘You did.'

‘Me?'

‘Blood witches,' he shrugs, casually looking around us. ‘They killed all sorts for their parts. Kind of goes along with the territory.'

Blood witches. My kind. The idea of being associated with that kind of magic makes my stomach twist in knots.

‘Will you take the blood of whatever you kill?' I ask, keen to change the subject.

‘No. Animal blood tastes like shit. I'd rather drink piss. Funny story, I've actually done that. But it was an accident. Drank too much whiskey and pissed in the bottle cos I couldn't be bothered to get up. Woke up in the morning gasping for a drink. Moral of the story… don't be a lazy fucker and piss in a bottle.' He chuckles.

‘Gross,' I laugh. ‘And noted.'

‘Why are you wearing the bracelet?' he asks.

I turn and face the waterfall.

‘I don't want to see the scars,' I admit quietly.

His hand rests on my wrist, just over the glamour. I pull away.

‘You don't need to hide when it's just us, Pixie. I hear Glamours are heavy to wear. Aren't you more comfortable without it?'

It's true. I hadn't realised the weight of it on me until it was taken off and then returned this morning. Like a heavy blanket draped over me. Or walking with a thick coating of mud on my clothes.

‘You can take it off,' he says.

‘I don't want…' The words get stuck.

‘Want?'

‘I don't want to see you look at me like I'm some injured cat you found in an alleyway.'

‘I assure you. That is not how I ever feel when I look at you.'

‘How you all looked at me when you first saw the scars? I don't want that. I don't need that.'

‘And how did we look exactly?'

‘You went from fierce warriors who captured a blood witch to pity-stricken men looking at a broken thing.' I move closer to the falls and away from him. ‘I don't like feeling self-conscious. I like my body. I've never been ashamed of it. And I don't want to feel ashamed of it now. It's survived a lot and deserves my respect and love. I just need to get used to the scars. To the idea of having them. I need time to learn to love them. That's all.'

‘I think your body is beautiful,' he says. ‘The scars just show its strength.'

‘You don't need to make me feel better about myself. All bodies are beautiful. But sometimes scars are just a reminder of all the ugly things that have happened. That's what scars are. Memories. Some are good. Some scars are full of pride. Like the ones you have from battle victories. Some are full of love, like stretch marks on a mother's stomach. But some are full of pain and despair. That's what mine are. Soon, I will love them all. They will be my victory scars. Proof I survived. I just don't feel that right now. But I love myself enough to promise I will try. Besides. It's not safe for anyone to see my Kindred marks.'

When I don't speak or turn, his hands slowly settle on my hips.

‘Until you do, I promise to see them as your victory map, Pixie,' he says. A few seconds pass as if he's waiting for me to tell him to get off. To leave.

But I don't want him to let me go. I don't want him to step away.

A trail of goosebumps follows his touch and my skin tingles. The water shifts as he moves closer. His steady breaths land on my neck as he sweeps my hair over my shoulder.

‘Have you looked at them yet?' he asks.

‘A little.'

They're a map of lies, pain and suffering. My father is a difficult man. A harsh man. But I thought, deep down, he loved me. That he never hit me hard enough to mark me. To permanently scar me.

Clearly, I was wrong. Those brief moments of kindness came so rarely, but they were everything to me when they came. And I daren't look in a mirror.

Not with the shadows.

Archie runs his fingers across my skin and down my spine.

‘Are they hideous?' I ask.

‘I don't think anything on your body could ever be hideous,' he says. ‘But I guarantee you, your father will pay for every single one of these scars.'

He moves closer. Then he kisses my shoulder.

I let out a jagged breath as his wandering hand glides down, across my hip, and onto my belly. He pulls me back into him so his chest is flush with my back.

His erection presses into my backside.

I'm instantly on my feet, facing him as he kneels in the water.

‘Coward,' he teases.

My fists are clenched as I look down at him, still smiling up at me with a sly half-smile and a slightly raised brow.

‘Go on then. Run off.'

I frown. Arrogant prick.

I take a step towards him. He doesn't move. He's daring me. Seeing if I have the balls or not. Will I run? Be angry and outraged?

He wants to see.

And if I'm honest… so do I.

I've only ever climaxed when I've pleasured myself. Cole never made me finish. Not once.

But Archie has, as well as Shaw and Dorian.

I thought I knew my body and what it could do.

But when they had me surrounded… that was an orgasm. A real fucking orgasm.

And if this is to be my life now, if I'm trapped in this place, then why the fuck not?

I reach out and run my hand through his white hair. He leans into my touch ever so slightly, not breaking eye contact with me.

Fuck. He is beautiful. An unbearably gorgeous face and a body built to perfection. And he knows what he's doing. Every touch. Every caress. He's a master at it all.

The wolf knows how to please a girl.

I look at his lips.

I know what that mouth can do. That tongue.

Fuck… that tongue.

He sits back on his haunches, lifts his hand, and slowly wags his finger.

I take a shaky breath. My body and mind are at war. My head screams, "Don't you fucking dare!". But my body wants him on me. Inside me. Wrapped all around me.

He takes that slowly wagging finger and places it between my legs.

I gasp as he eases it inside me, hooks into my inner wall, and pulls me closer.

He fully raises his brow and waits, his finger buried deep but perfectly still.

‘If you want it,' he murmurs in a velvety smooth tone made of pure seduction. ‘You gotta take it, Pixie.'

My fingers knot in his hair, and I pull him into my pussy.

His lips seal around my clit, and his free hand grabs my backside, keeping me pressed into him.

‘Shit…' I hiss, doubling over as he sucks and licks my bundle of nerves. ‘Oh… God…'

His buried finger slides in and out, massaging and caressing. He adds a second finger and pulls his face away to look up at me.

‘You are so fucking wet,' he whispers. ‘And I've barely started.' He pulls out his fingers and puts them in his mouth, sucking them clean before returning between my legs. His fingers fuck me slowly, and his mouth fucks me mercilessly.

With the sound of his moaning and the water cascading behind me, I fall into nothing and no one. All I am is pleasure and heightened senses.

He adds a third finger, stretching me as he swirls them.

‘Oh God…' I moan, knotting my fingers tighter in his hair.

More. It's all I can think of. I need more pressure. More speed. More force.

He meets my needs instinctually, knowing what I want and giving it in utter perfection.

‘Oh God…'

He pulls away and glares up at me.

‘Quit giving him all the credit, would you? If it's my fingers and tongue making you cry out in pleasure, you better say my fucking name.' He flicks my clit, making me cry out as pain and pleasure battle for dominance.

‘Sorry… I'm sorry… please…'

‘Please… who?'

‘Archie.'

He shakes his head.

I blink and say it before I comprehend it.

‘Master,' I breathe. ‘Please, Master.'

‘Good girl.'

He plunges his fingers back inside me and slams his mouth back between my legs.

In seconds, I'm coming around him, convulsing as powerful waves of pleasure rip through me, one after the other after the other. My cries echo around us, bouncing off the slate and stone. I don't hold back. I couldn't, even if I wanted to.

Which I don't.

When I was alone, I smothered my little whimpers, terrified my father would hear.

With Cole, he never got close to prising out any noise whatsoever.

I've barely finished when Archie has gotten to his feet. He has hold of me and pushes me back. We go beneath the cascading water and stop when I meet the cold, moss-covered stone behind the waterfall.

Archie lifts me. My legs wrap around his waist as he pins me to the wall.

Then he kisses me, claiming my mouth with skill and hunger. His hand glides into my hair and grips it at the roots, tugging hard as he keeps me close.

His other hand grabs at my backside, digging into my flesh hard before he lowers me a little.

Low enough so his hard cock can rest at my entrance.

‘Wait,' I pant, utterly breathless but so fucking turned on I'm struggling to get my thoughts in order. ‘Wait…'

‘You want me to stop?' he asks, his heavy breaths landing on my lips as he looks up at me. ‘Say the word. I'll stop. No questions. No anger. It's completely up to you, Pixie.'

‘I've never…I mean…'

‘I know you're a virgin. If you want me to stop, I will. Your first time is important.'

The strange thing is he's being serious. He's taking me seriously, and I know he would put me down and carry on as if nothing happened if I said stop.

But that's not what's holding me back.

‘I don't exactly… know… I mean… I just…'

His brow remains raised.

‘I just had my tongue in your vagina. I think we can skip being delicate. Spit it out, Pix. What's on your mind?'

‘I don't know what I'm supposed to do,' I whisper, feeling my face burn hot. ‘It feels nice now. But when it goes further, females always scream.'

Images of Thalia and the other girls come to mind.

‘Will it hurt?' I ask.

‘It fucking better if I'm your first. Not exactly small here,' he laughs gently.

His fingers tease my opening, slowly trailing back and forth as he looks up at me.

My head falls back, and his mouth teases my nipple. He sucks and nips, making it pert and full of nerves.

‘But it will only hurt for a second, and then you'll be begging for more,' he says, easing his fingers inside me. ‘I like to be in control, so just do as I say. If you need me to slow, say so. If you need me to stop, I will. Listen to your body, and if it's telling you something I should know, then fucking say so. Shame, embarrassment and sparing my feelings have no place in fucking. I want to make you scream in pleasure. Not scream in pain or terror. I don't get off on making girls cry. I get off on hearing them moan.'

I look down at him, my fingers gripping the mess of wet hair atop his head.

‘You'll make my first time memorable?'

‘I'll make your first time fucking unforgettable in all the best ways, Pixie.'

I reach down and take him in my hand.

My eyes widen as I feel the sheer size of him.

‘Oh. I like that look on your face,' he smirks. ‘Shock. A little bit of fear. It suits you. Now. Move your hand back and forth,' he urges. ‘Stroke me.'

When I go to look down, he slams me into the wall.

‘Eyes on me, my little blood whore. Now do as you're told and stroke my fucking cock.'

I slowly start pumping him as his tip rests at my opening.

His head falls back, and his mouth falls open.

‘Good…' he whispers. ‘That's fucking beautiful.'

All the warnings are ringing in my ears. But Archie doesn't seem unstable. He nudges himself into me a little, making me gasp.

‘I've been thinking of nothing but this since I first saw you.' He nudges a bit deeper, making me let out a little moan. ‘Oh no. That won't do. Not by far.' He grips me firmly and goes deeper. My heavy moan echoes off the wall as I adjust to him.

‘That's a beautiful noise to come from such sweet lips. More?' he asks.

‘There's more?' I pant.

A few more inches fill me.

A deeper moan comes out as I grip his shoulders.

‘More?'

‘All!'

He slams into me. I scream as he drives his cock in deep, right to the hilt.

‘FUCK!' I scream as I slam my fist into his chest.

‘You said all!' he argues.

‘I told you I was a fucking virgin!'

‘Not anymore, you're not,' he chuckles. He looks down between us, leaning back so he can see his buried cock. ‘You take me so well, my sweet little blood whore.'

I yank his hair and pull his head back.

‘Don't call me that, Mutt,' I warn.

He responds by pulling out and then thrusting into me hard, slamming my back into the wall and making me yell.

He waits, looking up at me excitedly, desperate to see what I'm going to do.

‘Give up?' he teases.

‘Why? Is that all you've got?' I grind out in reply.

‘Hold on tight,' he warns before slamming his mouth onto mine and fucking me hard. Our lips never part. His breath mixes with mine, and his tongue claims mine with fiery need. I cling to him as he slams into me. His kiss moves down my neck to my nipple, which he takes in his mouth and sucks hard. When his teeth nip my peak, I feel another build of pleasure.

I reach between my legs and work my clit.

‘So greedy. You want to scream for me again?'

‘Yes!'

‘Yes, what?'

I growl.

He pulls out and submerges me in the water, holding me down as I thrash and kick. What the hell is he doing? I can't fucking breathe! He hauls me up, and I gasp in some air.

‘Yes, what?' he repeats calmly.

‘FUCK YOU!'

‘Nope.'

He plunges me down again, holding me under with ease. He pulls me up.

‘Yes, what?'

‘Yes, Master!' I scream, coughing and spluttering.

He spins me, rests his hand on the back of my neck and presses my face into the moss of the wall. He's back inside me in an instant, fucking me from behind. With his right hand clamped down at the base of my neck, he places his left one between my legs. He circles my clit and fucks me with animalistic passion.

He growls and groans.

‘You'll cum for me,' he warns. ‘Do you hear me?'

‘Yes…'

His hand seals around my mouth and nose.

‘My little blood whore keeps forgetting her manners. Yes, what?'

His thrusts are relentless and unforgiving, but mixed with the skill of his fingers, it's perfection.

My pleasure builds. My toes curl. I slam my hand into the wall and would be screaming if I could. The edges of my vision blur. He moves his hand.

‘Yes, Master!' I cry, my orgasm tearing through me like an explosion.

He's back on his knees, his face buried between my thighs as he hungrily licks. A deep moan resonates through him, and when I look down, I see blood on his lips. My blood, coming from inside.

I'm bleeding. Oh gods… how embarrassing! When I try to move away, he glares up at me.

‘What the fuck do you think you're doing?' he demands.

Shame holds back my words. I look from him to the blood.

‘You're embarrassed?' he grins. ‘Just wait until you're on your monthlies.'

Unblinking, he spreads me as wide as I can go, holds out his tongue, and slowly drags it over my pussy, leaving a trail of red behind.

‘Oh gods…' I whisper, flooding with shame.

‘A first blood is a delicacy, little blood whore. Nothing tastes finer. Want to taste?'

I shake my head, mortified.

He eases his tongue inside me. Right fucking inside. In and out. In and out. All the while, he keeps me held wide open and never looks away.

He stands, cock in hand, as he slowly strokes himself.

‘Want to stop?' he asks.

I'm frozen in shock, utterly lost in pain, pleasure, shame and lust.

I shake my head, and he eases himself back inside me.

‘Oh fuck…' I half moan, half sob the words. That makes him smile even more.

‘One more,' he breathes. ‘You can do it. One more.' He waits, holding himself steady. ‘Tell me to stop, and I will. Or beg me, and I'll have you seeing the stars again.'

I've come this far.

I nod.

‘You call that begging?'

‘P-please… Master,' I whisper.

He secures my legs around his waist and clings to me, screwing me with skill. He's far from gentle, far from slow. But within minutes, I'm almost sobbing as I come apart around him again. Shit. I do sob. I scream.

He grunts heavily and bellows out a mighty cry as his cock pulsates and jerks inside of me.

He slows and stops, looking up at me through some seriously dishevelled hair and lust-filled eyes.

‘Not a virgin anymore, are ya?' He takes my chin, pulls my lips to his, and kisses me deeply.