Page 31 of Blood Oath
He’s the most likely to sleep with her.
I try to smile smugly to myself since that was precisely my goal here. After all, the sooner they fuck up, the easier it will be to destroy any hope of our quintet getting along. I should be thrilled.
But strangely enough, my breathing feels tight as I continue down the hall. Emotions threaten to surface, but all it takes is repeating my mantra and remembering why I’m here.
“I am nothing but deadly,” I whisper to myself. “I feel nothing.”
As if the universe decides now is the perfect time to mock me, I freeze in place when I definitely feel something. Familiar pain blooms in the center of my chest, and I stumble to lean against the wall with a ragged gasp. The edges of my vision blur.
Fuck. I can not be found like this.
I already know Silas, Bael, and possibly Crypt might find me any moment since they’ve been following me all day. I’m too far from my room to make it in time, so I duck into the nearest women’s bathroom, trying desperately to pull air into my failing lungs.
The pain is spreading like wildfire now, agony like cold needles prying every vein open on the way down my torso and arms. I barely manage to make it into a bathroom stall and lock it before my world caves in on itself. I’m so far gone that I don’t feel my head smack the stone floor, but I know it’s hard enough to split me open somewhere.
That’ll leave a fun, bloody mess for later.
10
CRYPT
Obsession is fascinating.
I’ve never felt anything similar, but there’s no mistaking it. Every moment without her in my sight makes my bones ache. She’s in every thought, every pulse of my blood, and all my sick and twisted fantasies, which have had no end ever since I found her to star in them.
After feeling nothing for so long, this fixation is suffocating.
Addicting.
I’d forgotten how heady emotions can be.
So when I return to the eating hall from an unavoidable errand, still unseen in Limbo, and find not even a trace of Maven Oakley’s aura remaining here for me to follow, I’m taken aback by the slew of unmoored panic that floods my system. I don’t realize I’ve unleashed mania on the nearest students until I notice a couple of shifters are trying to rip each other’s throats out while their friends hold them back.
As entertaining as it would be to watch, I kick off the ground and leave the eating hall, intent on finding Maven.
Being in Limbo is similar to laying in a pool looking up through the water’s surface. Most of the time, I can hear and see the waking world, but it can sometimes be muffled and distorted. Here, I am unfettered by gravity, with free rein to drift and roam wherever I please, through walls or the thickest metal safes. Barring anywhere protected by a dreamcatcher, of course.
Most incubi can’t stay in Limbo for longer than a handful of hours at a time, but my relationship with this unstable subconscious realm is unique. I spend most of my time here out of necessity, and to date, it hasn’t driven me to madness.
More madness, rather.
After far too long of drifting through classroom walls and castle halls, gritting my teeth at the absolute lack of Maven anywhere, I realize I’m a fool. All I need to do is track down the auras of the others, and they’ll lead me to Maven. After all, they wouldn’t be so thickheaded as to leave our precious keeper without any protection.
It’s easy enough to track Crane down. He’s always had a singularly crimson aura, but when I follow his trail, he’s in the interim headmaster’s office, reading through a file with a frown. The interim headmaster happily gabs at him even though it’s clear the blood fae is only interested in whatever the papers in his hands say.
If it’s anything relevant—meaning about Maven—then I’ll hear about it at some juncture. I’m far more concerned about getting her back in my sights.
I come across Frost’s soft blue aura as I drift through a nearby hall, but I don’t bother following it. Whatever crock of shit she’s trying to sell about him being her favorite, it’s not like she’d be spending time with that reticent sap.
Finally, I find myself in the hallway leading to Maven’s dorm room after following Decimus’s obnoxiously bright aura. He’s standing outside her door, clearly debating knocking. She must be there, ignoring him in all her adorably stubborn glory.
I let my feet settle on the ground, attention pinned on the door as I wait for her to come out.
A few minutes pass before we both snap to attention when someone else walks into the hallway. But my eagerness to see Maven’s face turns to ash when it’s just a redhead whose attention is laser-focused on Decimus. Her aura is a sickly piss yellow.
“Well, hello, Baelfire,” she purrs, sashaying up to the agitated dragon. “Lucky me, running into you here.”
Her intentions toward him couldn’t be more obvious from where I’m standing, but I find myself curious to see how my quintet member will respond when he thinks no one is watching. I’m always intrigued when people show their true colors—and although I’ve sometimes observed Decimus, Crane, and Frost over the years without their knowing, I’ve rarely cared much about the outcome of their choices.
