Page 17 of Blood Oath
"You don't enjoy attention from strangers," Crypt surmises, studying me.
He can surmise whatever he wants. I don't care what he thinks of me. Besides, I'm sure he’ll lose interest and stop tagging along if I don’t acknowledge him for long enough.
Resuming my trek through Everbound, I round a corner and nearly crash into Baelfire.
Godsdamn it. These men are like a bad rash.
I try to step around him, but his hand finds my shoulder, gripping it gently to keep me close. Even with my shirt’s buffer, the contact constricts my chest, and goosebumps ripple down my arms. I escape quickly from the contact, but Bael doesn't notice because he's busy glaring at Crypt.
"Is this DeLune bothering you, Mavie?”
Mavie? “Ew. Don't call me that.”
“How about…Spooky Boo? Or just Boo, since you’re my boo.”
I roll my eyes. “You're both bothering me. I don't want to see either of you.”
“As you wish,” Crypt murmurs before dissipating like a mirage. He must be back in Limbo, watching and listening in from there.
Bael's gilded gaze drops to me and immediately warms. “Alone at last, more or less. Wanna grab a bite together? I'm ravenous. Food is entirely optional,” he adds with a suggestive wink.
I stare at him. How blunt do I need to be for him to get the message? “Get lost.”
“I just want to make sure my adorably spooky little mate has eaten.”
That word sends a sensation pooling in my stomach that I can’t name.
Mate.
Absolutely not. I can’t be that to him—to anyone.
Before I can shut down that notion, Silas Crane also rounds the corner, slowing when he sees us. His attention skips down to me, and I swear his expression intensifies into something almost…possessive.
Which is insane. He doesn’t even fucking know me. None of them do, and yet here they are. I keep my face impassive, but irritation prickles along my spine. It seems none of my matches took what I said earlier seriously.
“I was magically tracking the Nightmare Prince. That led me here,” Silas explains, glaring at the hallway around us as if he suspects Crypt is nearby. “Maven, I’ll craft a custom dreamcatcher for you. You deserve your privacy and believe me, Crypt doesn't know the meaning of the word.”
Do I need a dreamcatcher? Yes. Am I a strong enough caster to make a functional one by myself? Not currently. But I can't accept anything from my matches, or they'll think I'm giving in.
“I already have one,” I lie smoothly and step around them to escape. Over my shoulder, I call, “From now on, leave me alone. Your time is better spent asking for another keeper.”
I hear them arguing quietly behind me until I turn and hurry up another set of stairs. But the tension doesn't leave me because I know I'm still being followed, unseen, by Crypt. His presence is a dark, alluring thing. Subtle enough to miss entirely if I wasn’t hyper-aware of all of them in a way I’m choosing to ignore, just as I once again choose to ignore that Crypt is following me.
Reaching one of the on-campus university stores doesn’t take me long. It's small and sells a laughable mashup of modern goods and shit only legacies need. There's a fridge stocked with sodas, energy drinks, and blood bags for the vampires in need of a quick fix. A lineup of nail polishes and cosmetics is on display beside a shelf stocked with heat and rut suppressants for shifters, jars of powdered unicorn horns, and other random potion ingredients.
While browsing the few aisles looking for what I need, Crypt's presence nearby finally vanishes. I smile smugly to myself. He must have finally decided to give up.
Along with purchasing a dreamcatcher that I hope is strong enough to keep the Nightmare Prince away, I buy a few essential ingredients to make another healing spell for my singed fingertips.
I'm not particularly gifted as a caster in the typical sense. I can manage minor, practical spells and potions, but most of my skills have nothing to do with day-to-day magic. Still, healing myself is necessary since I can’t go to the university healers.
Thirty minutes later, I arrive at my dorm room and pause outside the door with a frown. Hanging on the handle is a delicate rope chain necklace with Luka’s fang as its sole pendant. Directly beside it is a beautifully woven dreamcatcher, its feathers stained dark with what looks to be blood and sigils burned into the delicate web net. It's obviously the work of a skilled blood fae. And on the ground is a massive takeout box of Chinese food from a restaurant in Halfton, the nearest human town. It's still steaming.
Oh, my gods. They have no idea how to handle being rejected, do they?
If they don't respond to blunt rejection, how am I supposed to get out of this quintet? Grumbling to myself, I grab the unwanted gifts and slam the door shut behind me.
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