Page 5 of An Oath at Midnight

“Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

“Not in the least, so instead of scowling, how about you enlighten me?”

He crossed his inked arms. “Bram will meet a female one day, a female the fates have chosen for him, one worthy of him, one who is willing to prove to him and his people that she’s strong enough for him.”

Pain shot through me like a barbed dagger, followed by pure undiluted rage. “Why are you telling me this?”

His hand shot out and he gripped my shoulder, his hold firm, unforgiving. Pain speared through the scar beneath his palm. I gritted my teeth.

“I don’t give a fuck that he’s your familiar. When that day comes, you will step aside. You’ll let him go,” he said, no, demanded, his voice sending shards of ice through me.

I stared at him in shock.

Bram called again.

“I need to get back.” I pulled away, dislodging his hold on me and rushed off.

As soon as I rounded the corner, Bram closed the distance between us, reassuring himself the same way I did after he’d been gone, and pulled me close, his face pressed to my throat. Bram liked to touch me, to be close, it’d always been that way since we found each other. He was the only person I could tolerate touching me most of the time, but sometimes, even that was too much, and now, under the weight of his brother’s stare and after the conversation we’d just had, I eased away in the guise of checking out the cake Talon and Rook were placing on the table.

“Is this what you were doing?” I asked Bram.

His lips twitched. “I’m the best with frosting.”

He was.

Payne joined us. I felt his gaze on me, and I did my best to ignore him.

Rook lit the seven purple candles, the flames glinting off his necklace made of fangs, demon mostly, but others as well, then Talon nudged Bram and we all sang happy birthday to a beaming Maeve.

I tried to relax after that, to enjoy the rest of the evening, but after what Payne said, it was impossible, and the anger stayed, no matter how hard I tried to shove it down again.

No matter how hard I tried not to think about why I felt this way.

* * *

“Land here,” I said to Bram when we flew over my family’s two-story, Victorian house.

He frowned but did as I asked. “You need something from your room?”

“I need some time on my own,” I said, shoving my hands in my pockets and balling them into fists.

Bram rocked back like I’d backhanded him. It fucking stung, knowing that I’d hurt him, but I was hurting as well, and with all this anger inside me, I didn’t want to take it out on him—and I would if I didn’t get away from him right now. His family knew what he was doing, where he was going, but not me. We were family, closer than family, yet he refused to tell me anything. The cut of that, after talking to his aunt, was deeper tonight, and I couldn’t hide it from him or hold it in any longer. If I didn’t get some distance between us, we’d fight. I’d say shit I’d regret, we’d hurt each other, and I didn’t want tonight to end that way.

He knew it as well, which was why he didn’t say anything, why he stood there with pain in his eyes, with a look that said he didn’t recognize me anymore. Well, he wasn’t the only one. His Adam’s apple slid up and down his throat, and he took a step back. “Whatever you need.”

“Night, B,” I said and rushed inside, shutting the door behind me.

“Drink?” Else asked from the kitchen counter, startling me. She was in her favorite fluffy pink robe and her soft, silver hair was still damp from her shower. She looked tiny tonight, and fragile. I wanted to wrap my arms around her and hold her tight, to let her comfort me and to beg her to never ever leave me, but my scars were alive, the pain more than I could stand. I didn’t know why, but I could barely stand my own arms against my sides, let alone someone else touching me.

I did my best to hide the way I was feeling when I turned to her, but I couldn’t hide shit from Elswyth Thornheart. No one could. I shook my head. “I’m fine.”

My great-aunt was seventy-four years old, and looked like a sweet, little old lady, but she was smart, sarcastic, and a powerful healer. She and I were alike in a lot of ways. We both had an aptitude for potion making, and though I was nowhere near the healer she was, my talent for it had finally shown up several months ago and was steadily growing.

“You look like you could use some cocoa,” she said, her brown eyes softening.

I forced a smile. “I just need a good night’s sleep.”

“Okay, pumpkin.” She shuffled past with her steaming mug. “See you in the morning.”