Page 20 of Blood Oath
With a renewed determination to drive away my supposedly fated matches, I force myself to move, to sit at my desk, and pull out a paper and pen. I jot down a game plan—my Make Them Hate Me list.
Once it’s done, I reread it before nodding with satisfaction. Tomorrow, if any of my rejected matches approach me, I'll use the first tactic on the list:
Bore them to tears.
7
SILAS
Before sunrise, I arrive at the apartment reserved for my quintet. The only one who slept here last night was Baelfire since Everett was nowhere to be found after the Seeking and Crypt was likely out devouring dreams all night.
Myself, I stayed in my old private dorm room. I have no plans to stay overnight with my quintet until after our curses are broken at graduation. Otherwise, my curse won’t allow me to get a moment of rest around the others.
I set my hand against the apartment door, which I spelled to open only for my quintet members. When the door swings open, I raise a brow at the deer that Bael is skinning and cleaning in the large kitchen area to the left of the spacious entry.
“Delightful.”
“Please,” he huffs. “As if blood has ever bothered you. I haven’t finished draining it if you wanna sip on a vein or something.”
I don’t bother explaining for the umpteenth time that blood fae only feed on blood from magical beings. Whether my kind should remain in the House of Arcana or whether we’re more fit for the House of Craving has long been debated, given our similarities to vampires. But unlike other siphons, we don’t require blood for our sustenance. It just makes our magic stronger.
Deer blood is useless. I know because I’ve tried it.
“You’re up early.”
He shrugs and snaps the dead animal’s pelvis to remove more intestines. “Felt like getting an early start.”
Sometimes, I envy the ability others have to tell lies since fae like myself cannot. And I know Baelfire is lying. His early morning hunt likely had to do with his curse.
I’m one of the few who know the specifics of his.
The draconic brute is shirtless, only wearing dark trousers. The rest of him is smeared in blood, dirt, dead leaves, and gods know what else. At least he’s kept the apartment neat, keeping his mess in the kitchen.
“Clean this up before Maven arrives.”
His eyes flash to me, and the hopeful excitement that lights his face is almost childlike. “She’s coming? When?”
“I’ll convince her to.”
Mainly because the idea of my keeper staying in the tiny dorm room I identified as hers yesterday bothers me. It’s not safe enough. Keepers are considered the ones in charge, but they are also fiercely protected by their quintet because they’re the keystone, so to speak—the core of the group, without which the quintet would break and the curses would return. It makes keepers a target for other legacies hoping to climb the power rankings. Although the no-kill ban doesn’t officially lift until next semester when quintets train together, Maven is still in danger—especially considering how highly ranked the rest of our group is.
This apartment is layered with all kinds of protective spells that would reassure me that my keeper isn’t in any danger, and it’s stocked with almost anything she might need for her comfort. Which is why I’ll make sure she moves in sooner than later.
Baelfire grunts and returns to cleaning his kill. “I’m going to play hooky with Maven today. Take her out to Halfton for lunch and anything else she wants. My mate will accept me first, and after I spoil the fuck out of her in bed for a few days, I’ll collect on that wager you proposed. If Everett hasn’t joined the bet by then, I’ll make sure to demand something that’ll be a pain in your ass to pay up.”
Cocky bastard.
I didn’t make that wager lightly. Of course, it’s crucial for us to make progress with our keeper, but I also need quite a few of Baelfire’s dragon scales. He’s known for years that I want to use them in experimental spells and potions.
What he doesn’t know is why I want them. Certainly, they’re a rare ingredient many spells call for, but I have two specific purposes in mind for his scales.
The first, I wouldn’t dare breathe a word of to anyone I don’t trust. And I only trust myself.
But the second purpose, I can’t tell the dragon, or he’ll think I’ve gone soft.
I watch as Baelfire accidentally jostles the table while sectioning the deer. My eye twitches. That, combined with the scent of the carcass, the smooth glide of that knife through the flesh, the dim lighting of a cold dawn, and that familiar creeping feeling sliding like chilled oil over my spine…
How easy it would be for that knife to wind up in your back, a voice like my father’s whispers in my head.
