Covet the Night, page 22
"What did you do, Gwen?"
"Who were the people on the tables?"
He closed his eyes and let out a noise of frustration.
Tonight had not gone as planned. Not at all. He'd been starstruck in her presence, wanting so badly to say the right thing and not muck it all up by saying something wrong. Not that it had mattered. She kept her guard up throughout dinner, her careful facade slipping only when she suffered her nosebleed and then again when he witnessed her pour something into Briar's goblet—and did nothing to stop it.
His stomach twisted.
The scent of her blood was overwhelming his senses, and the urge to lick it clean—and more—was making him fight for control of his better nature. What stopped him short was the knowledge of how she cut herself and the danger she now was in. The Vranas weren't enemies you wanted.
Gwen watched as William's face contorted with growing dread: lips thinning, forehead wrinkling, cheeks drawing hollow. Then his lashes fluttered open to reveal pure silver. She jerked her hand back, her mouth in the shape of an O.
"Tell me what you did." His tenor shifted from gritty anger to velvety smooth. "Tell me you understand the full consequences of your actions."
Gwen thrust up her chin defiantly. "Jax hasn't been away at all, has he? That was him in the room, along with someone else. Who was it?"
"He was farther away than you can imagine." William leaned forward and braced an arm above her head. "As for the other, he's none of your concern. Now tell me what you put in Briar's drink. And why?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," she insisted as sweat gathered at her hairline. Her head was pounding, her body aching. It was taking everything in her not to crumple to the ground. Whatever magic blasted through the Vranas’ private suites was apparently Gwen's kryptonite. She passed a frantic look beyond William to the shared antechamber space. Maybe if I scream….
William brushed his fingers along her jaw, gently guiding her attention back to him. "She'll have drunk it by now. Soon she'll be feeling its effects—whatever poison that I saw you put in her drink. You too, for that matter." Gwen gasped and looked at the glass embedded in her skin. "Tell me, and I can act as an intermediary for you. Sebastian will want your head, and Briar too, but if I step in…."
He let the words linger between them.
Let him step in and smooth things over, then owe him a debt? Gwen swallowed and shifted uncomfortably against the pillar at her back. Laurel's earlier words echoed in her mind, followed by Becca's remark at the fight. What's mine is yours.
Her gaze hardened. "Briar's a traitor. She got what she deserved."
William lurched back. Disappointment and disgust deeply lined his furrowed brow. As he took another step back, Gwen's heart trembled. She didn't like that look. She hated it—hated that it was directed at her and from him. Uncertainty barreled into her at the realization, and she quickly turned her back to it. Her guilt and shame rose in its stead.
What am I becoming?
William reeled back into her space, chest heaving, a finger pointing at her accusingly interrupting the sudden panic wrapped around her thoughts. "You're fuckin' better than that, Gwen. Don't be like them. Don't be a martyr for their cause. Don't be a sheep—"
"I am not a sheep or a martyr!"
"—and follow along so blindly. Didn't you learn anything from Briar? Anything at all?"
Gwen said nothing. She was overly conscious of the way her chest rose and fell in time with his. How a torrent of conflicting emotions raced through her as she battled her mounting guilt. She screwed her eyes shut in a desperate attempt to will them all away.
Desperation gnawed at William. Did she have to be so bullheaded, so stubborn? He’d heard the things Briar said to her and hoped it would shake her confidence in the Roux. Instead, she'd dug her heels in and damned herself for whatever crime she committed in the name of the Roux.
He knew he should have intervened, but the reality of the situation hit him too late. How could his soulmark be so callous and dishonorable?
William didn't know how he would convince the Vranas not to retaliate or how he would convince Gwen to be with him. He wanted her to choose him by his own merit, not their soulmark, but she was in deeper with the Roux than he'd thought. So how?
He licked his lips. All in. Let there be no doubt in her mind she’s my choice, and prove to her what I have to offer—what life has to offer—is far greater than being a vampyré of the Roux sisterhood.
Warm, calloused hands cupped Gwen's face, thumbs stroking up and down the apples of her cheeks, coaxing her eyes back open.
William's throat bobbed as he peered deeply into her eyes. "Would it be so terrible to forsake them? To be with someone who could love you better than all of them combined? I would never put you in harm's way like they have tonight. Never. I'd follow you to the ends of the earth. Show you everything it has to offer and more."
"Why are you doing this?" Gwen's entire body shook. All her self-assurance was slipping away, and she couldn't tear her eyes away from his. "Why do you keep saying things like this? What's the point?" She smacked at his chest and ripped out of his gentle touch. "I'm not going to give them up for you!"
Her voice cracked in too many places to count. It left her shaken and even more unsure because each crack felt like a physical blow to her heart for some unexplainable reason.
It was the dark magic. It had to be, she told herself as she pressed her palm flat against the length of her scar and breathed.
"You can't outrun fate, Gwen."
Her bottom lip trembled.
William reached out to her beseechingly, his mouth tilting open, but then he stiffened and growled. He whipped his head back in the direction of the Vranas’.
"Damnation," he swore, looking back at Gwen guiltily. "I'll watch over you. Don't worry. Trust me."
He brushed his knuckles reverently along her jaw, and in the next instant, he was gone.
"Gwen! What's the matter? What's happened?" Hazel cried as she spotted Gwen entering. She rushed forward in a blur, and the stinging touch of bile tore up the back of Gwen’s throat. Gwen squeezed her eyes shut to curb the sensation. She couldn't tell anymore if what she was feeling was a rebound of her cancer or the magic she’d experienced.
Her lashes parted weakly, and Laurel was before her.
"Clear for us, Hazel," Laurel ordered, sweeping Gwen into the cradle of her arms like she was a child.
In less than four blinks, Gwen was lying on the soft, downy mattress of her bed. She breathed in the scent of her pillow, pleased to find the familiar perfume of lavender there. It lessened the throbbing in her head—or so she told herself.
Fingers threaded in her hair, working deftly to unpin the ornaments that kept her hair partly up. They combed through her garnet locks with patience and massaged her scalp with care.
"Tell me everything," Laurel said.
Gwen winced, wondering where to begin before the night's events came out in a waterfall of words broken by occasional whimpers and groans of pain. Her clothes clung to her skin, damp with sweat yet shivering from irrational cold. Her right arm was extended toward Laurel, who knelt at the side of her bed, cleaning her palm. Gwen barely felt the bite of pain as Laurel dabbed a warm cloth over her glass-free hand.
"I did it, though," Gwen announced, lashes fluttering before coming to rest on the tops of her cheeks. "I would have gotten it all in if it wasn't for the pain. Stupid magic. Stupid mirrors."
"And the pain occurred when you looked at the mirrors? But it stopped after?"
Gwen nodded weakly and cracked her eyes open to look at Laurel. Her crimson hair was slicked back in a high pony, which swayed as she shook her head. Her jaw was clenched tight, prompting a little vein to appear next to her temple.
"Dark magic, no doubt. The Vranas are playing with forces they cannot begin to understand. That they would invite you into their home with such reckless behavior going on rooms away…." She carefully smeared a general triple antibiotic ointment over Gwen’s incisions. "I'm so proud of you for carrying out your task. I know taking up this mantle must have been difficult for you. There's little room for hate in your heart, but you've done right by the sisterhood and embodied her wishes to the fullest. Though I'm afraid you dosed yourself as well." Laurel made a tsking noise with her tongue. "Between the effects of the dark magic, the small dose of poison your body absorbed here"— she ghosted her fingertips over Gwen’s palm—"and your tincture wearing off… oh, my pet, you must be in tremendous pain."
Gwen closed her injured hand around Laurel's cold fingers before they could retreat. "There's more."
"Shh," Laurel soothed. "First your tincture. I should have given it to you once I set you down, but I had to get you to relax. Every part of you seized up while you were in my arms."
Laurel produced the green vial without fanfare and tipped the milky substance into Gwen's mouth. Just as before, Gwen was shocked at its ice-cold temperature. It coated the inside of her mouth and throat, rushing to defeat the searing pain racking her. After a minute, all pain receded. She was blissfully languid and rejuvenated at last.
"Thank you," she whispered. Fatigue still held her captive, but Gwen blamed the chaos of the night. She sat up slowly. Her thoughts lingered on the magic. Even now, a creeping, twisted unease settled inside her. What kind of dark magic are the Vranas meddling with?
"What's wrong?" Laurel reached for Gwen’s face, brushing aside the lone tear that traced down her cheek. "Did it not work? Oh, Gwen! What is it?"
Gwen opened her mouth, but instead of words, a sob exploded out of her. She slapped a hand over her mouth, confused yet overcome by the swell of dread in her stomach.
"What is it, Gwendolyn?" Laurel asked again, taking her by the shoulders and giving her a shake. But Gwen didn't know what was wrong. It felt like a battle was taking place inside her—dark magic versus that of her tincture. Her pain might have been gone, but their fight was dredging up new wounds.
Laurel held Gwen to her chest as she sobbed. "Please," Laurel begged. "Tell me. What is it? What can I do? Let me take your pain and bear it for you."
"The ma-ma-magic." The sputtered words were followed by a violent shiver. Gwen clung to Laurel, willing the words out she still needed to say. "He's awake."
"Who?" Laurel asked, words spiked with worry.
"Jax."
A fitful sleep claimed Gwen. Her dreams were filled with gray everything: walls, floors, plants, skies, blood. It was sterile and disturbing but somehow alive, pulsing a rhythm she was helplessly drawn to. She'd awoken a handful of times covered in sweat, but no worse for wear.
As dusk approached, she was awoken with a gentle shake. Lily and Hazel hovered near her side, vibrating with energy. They hustled Gwen from the bed and to the bathroom to prepare, unable to contain their excitement. Tonight was the second initiation test.
Gwen lingered underneath the showerhead as long as she could, letting the water wash away her nightmares and whatever vestiges of the dark magic dared cling to her. If the Vranas peddled in dark magic, her shower dealt vanquishing light alongside her tincture to claim victory. She felt wonderful as she exited and hurried to meet her soon-to-be sisters in the private parlor and boudoir.
Gwen smiled widely at them and took her seat in the throne-like vanity chair. Hazel and Lily zipped behind her, tugging at either end of a brush.
"Children, stop this nonsense." Poppy laughed. "I'll do her hair." Both women cried for fairness but received none from their sire and hovered nearby. By their grins, Gwen didn't think they minded.
A sigh traipsed from Gwen's lips as the first stroke of the comb ran through her hair. Lilac perfumed the air subtly. Gwen relished in the unabashed femininity of the room and its occupants, relaxing further into Poppy's ministrations.
"How are you feeling this morning, Gwendolyn?" Violet asked. She sat nearest the vanity in a low-back chair cushioned with pillows of pink crushed silk. "Laurel said you had quite the night."
Gwen glanced at Laurel, who reclined fully on one of the divans with her head propped up by a hand.
"It was far from the standard the Roux keep."
Violet's answering smile was gracious. She tilted forward; eyes keen to the subtlest movement Gwen made as Poppy twisted her hair up off her neck.
"And after dinner?" Violet inquired.
Gwen stalled with a smile and long breath, locking her sights on Laurel once more, unsure of what could be said.
"Dear Gwen, we're family in all but blood, and soon to be that as well. Laurel informed us of your bravery and how you took our cause to heart so readily. We couldn't be prouder."
"Oh." A bashful flush covered half of Gwen's face, flamed further when Poppy leaned over her shoulder to press a cool kiss to her colored cheeks. Gwen lowered her eyes as the sisters leveled her with praise while a knot of guilt built in her stomach over the action that earned their high regard.
"If my source proves truthful, I've every right to believe that Sebastian was in considerable pain all through the day."
Gwen cut her gaze to Violet. "Sebastian? But I put the poison into Briar's drink."
Laurel sat up and gave Gwen a reassuring smile. "With all the commotion, she undoubtedly shared her drink with him. You did say he came tumbling into the study."
"Yes, but—"
"Hurting him hurt her." The smile dropped from Laurel's face, but the conviction in her voice did not waver as she held Gwen's gaze. "You did most well, pet. This act of sisterhood will not be forgotten."
Gwen chewed on the inside of her cheek, eyebrows bunching. "They'll come after me, won't they?"
Malice and bloodlust flashed across Laurel's expression. "They'll have to get through us first."
Without words, the sisters communicated their agreement in slanted-eyed stares and proudly tilted chins. Violet's eyes passed over her daughters with admiration before landing on their newly chosen sister. She'd proven herself to be cunning thus far and sly enough to catch the eye of the formidable Beast. Though the sisters already whispered of his eyes lingering on Laurel's protégé, no one dared deny the opportunity to be found in his attraction.
Yes, they would protect her. Her potential was limitless if they played their cards right.
With the twist of a knob, music reigned. The sweet croon of Édith Piaf wafted in the air. Hazel and Lily waltzed informally, breaking the rising tension of the room as thoughts ran toward the future.
"Do you know what I was thinking, Lily, dearest?"
"What, my precious Hazel?" Lily giggled as her sister spun her dramatically, her skirts flaring out around her.
Hazel's eyes sparkled merrily, the picture of innocence. "I hope he choked on his blood."
"Hazel!" Lily gasped as she stopped her twirling. A wicked smile lit her features. "You little savage." Hazel giggled as Lily attacked her sides mercilessly with wiggling fingers. "I was just about to say the same!"
Both women laughed gaily at the dark sentiment and then continued in their amusements. Poppy chuckled as she twisted Gwen's hair high on her head and pinned it in place. Gwen offered them a grin as Hazel blew her a kiss.
Choked on his blood?
The turn in conversation coaxed the knot of guilt tighter in Gwen's stomach. A chill coursed through her veins. She'd never caused someone intentional harm like this before, but she'd poisoned Briar's cup without a second thought. Her throat constricted as she fought to maintain her serene composure against the tide of doubt rising inside her.
What was she becoming here?
Who was she becoming?
A loud gurgle and growl interrupted Gwen's bleak contemplation and the music. It was her stomach.
"I wish we could have brought you something to eat, Gwen," Poppy lamented, coming out from behind Gwen to view her handiwork from the front. "But all initiates must participate in tonight's test with an empty stomach," she explained, fingers mussing the tendrils of hair left to frame her face.
"Surely she can have something." Laurel's appeal was met with silent, scolding frowns. "After all she endured for us the other evening—not only us but for the entire sisterhood? Gwen should be rewarded."
Everyone turned their attention to Violet.
The matriarch considered Laurel with a downward tilt of her brow. Laurel sat straighter. Gwen watched as Laurel's shoulders shifted back, and she held Violet's gaze unflinchingly. Without realizing it, Gwen found herself mimicking her sire-to-be’s posture.
When Violet's assessment turned Gwen's way, she received a nod of approval.
"I'll support it."
"Excellent!" Laurel cheered.
She snatched something out from behind the divan, hidden out of sight. It was an enameled jug and tall glass, earning pleased cries from Lily and Hazel. Poppy laughed. Violet tsked and shook her head with affection. The matriarch tossed a look to the closed door of their private quarters, then back to Laurel as she approached Gwen.
"Nobody is to breathe a word of this to anyone, am I understood?"
"Yes, Sister Violet."
The glass was set near the vanity's edge and filled to the brim. Gwen sniffed the contents.
"It's merely water, pet. Drink up as much as you can, and fast."
"This is my reward?" Trace amounts of skepticism lined Gwen's voice that did not go unnoticed by the others. She drank to appease their scowls.
Laurel leaned against the vanity, her weight jostling it and the jug. Reaching out with a slender finger, she tipped the glass higher. Gwen swallowed as fast as she could, shrinking back as it threatened to spill out of her mouth. She finished with a gasp, and Laurel took the glass and refilled it.
"You'll see soon enough what an excellent advantage it is. Now, we haven't much time until we must leave. Drink up. That's a good girl."
By the third glass, Gwen was panting, her stomach rebelling. "I can't."
