Page 37 of Blood Oath
“Oh my gods! You already call her your mate? That is so fucking cute,” Kenzie croons, ignoring the daggers I’m hurling at her with my eyes.
“She is cute, isn’t she? I keep telling her that myself,” Bael teases, tossing me a smug grin. Then he perks up. “Hey. You’re her friend. You probably know her favorite ice cream flavor, right? She wouldn’t tell me what it is.”
Kenzie tips her head. “Shit, maybe I’m a bad friend because I have no idea. What is it, May?”
I’ve never had ice cream.
But if I tell them that, they’ll have follow-up questions. More questions about my past means more lies. And it’s far easier to maintain a false identity with as few flourishes as possible.
I’m just here for my mission. Keeping things simple is best.
“Vanilla.”
“There, see? That wasn’t so hard,” Baelfire grins triumphantly down at me. One of his hands lifts to adjust the hair that’s fallen over my temple, but he checks himself at the last moment and pulls it back. “All right. What else does she like?”
This time, when I give her a meaningful look, Kenzie rolls her eyes and chooses to back me up. “You’ll have to figure it out yourself, guys. I’m not a snitch.” She lowers her voice to a stage whisper. “But a little birdie did tell me that she likes a certain sexy, rich, ex-model professor.”
Helping to stir the pot? Not bad.
I fight a smile when Baelfire’s amusement immediately drops away, and Silas glares out the window. They say nothing, but I can take a wild guess as to what they’re thinking. Legacies aren’t human, but they have the same emotions. As much as legacies tote this idea of perfect groups who complete each other, there’s no way that jealousy simply ceases to exist among quintets.
If I focus all my attention on Everett, it’s just a matter of time before they all snap.
And the sooner they give up on me, the sooner I can focus on fulfilling my oath.
12
SILAS
I’m unwell.
That must be the only explanation because as I sit in my private dorm room preparing components of a tracking spell for my keeper, I can think of nothing else but the scent of her blood from earlier.
She lied to us. I’m sure of it. That scent was all over her, lingering in her hair, taunting me as she brushed off any concern about her safety.
But something happened to make her bleed.
Setting down a vial of banshee tears, I rub my face. Blood fae are not vampires. We aren’t blessed with immortality or an array of heightened senses—except for the ability to perceive magic. We smell it, sense it, and crave the taste of it, which can only be found in magical bloodlines. Blood powers our magic, whether we drink it or infuse it into our spells. It’s what makes us the most powerful class of the fae.
I’ve never actively craved the scent of someone’s blood before.
But Maven’s…
My mouth waters and I suddenly feel feverish. My damn erection won’t go down.
Trying to refocus, I flip through the blood-stained grimoire on the table in front of me, my knee bouncing restlessly. The silence of my dorm stretches on, broken only by the grating ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
My breathing feels wrong. Too shallow. I straighten to try to inhale fully, but that’s when my eyes snag on the dark curtains covering my window. The way they’re bunched sends my pulse pounding behind my eyes. The ringing in my ears muffles every other sound as I get to my feet, clutching my bleeding crystal in my hand so hard that it pierces my palm as I move toward the curtain.
Anyone could be in here. Watching. Laying in wait, the voices in my head whisper.
Logically, I know my dorm is the most secure place in Everbound. I went to exhausting lengths to ensure that before I enrolled. Thanks to my magic wards, no one but myself can be admitted to this room.
But right now, I’m not thinking straight. My curse hums in my veins, turning the air thick as sludge and stringing my muscles like a thread. My heart pounds painfully against my ribs.
Not safe, the voices chant. Not safe. Not safe. Not safe?—
