“I haven’t claimed her.”
A long, heavy pause fills the line. Then Draven exhales—slow, sharp, like he’s bracing himself. “Good,” he says quietly. “That would’ve been… premature.”
Newt flicks his ear, unimpressed. Draven continues, voice cooling into something more controlled. “Slade… you don’t claim someone when you know nothing about the curse wrapped around her blood. You wait. You assess.”
I roll my eyes. “Iamassessing.”
“You’re terrible at assessing when you’re emotionally compromised.”
“I’m not emotionally—”
“Yes, you are,” he cuts in. “Which is why I’m asking this next part very carefully.” A beat passes before he speaks again. “Is there another reasonwhyyou’re waiting?”
I rub the back of my neck. “Because claiming her binds us permanently. She’s terrified. And barely tolerating me.”
Draven mutters, “So she’s sensible.”
“Shut up.”
He snorts softly. “I’m not judging you. I just needed to know you weren’t hesitating because you’re injured or poisoned… or controlled.”
“I’mfine.”
“You say that like it means anything.”
“Do you at least know whatkindof curse it is?” He asks with another long suffering sigh.
“I don’t know all of it yet. It’s old. Older than her coven records. Older than her bloodline, maybe.”
Draven curses under his breath. “So you walked into a mate bond and an unidentified hereditary curse? Do you even LIKE surviving?”
I flex my jaw. “I didn’t choose the timing.”
“No one does,” he mutters. “But a curse tied to a witch’s bloodline? That’s messy. Dangerous. Probably comes with expectations. And enemies.”
He hisses a breath. “Slade. You need backup.”
“No.”
“You need information,” he says, trying a different angle.
“I’m getting it.”
“How?” He asks.
I glance at Newt. He stares back, entirely unimpressed. “…carefully,” I say.
Draven groans. “Which means recklessly.”
“I didn’t ask for advice,” I say flatly.
“You never do,” Draven fires back. “You just brood until someone calls you and forces you to talk.”
I grit my teeth. He’s not wrong.
“I called because you disappeared,” Draven continues. “Because something changed and I knew it was something delicious. You always did keep secrets better than me. You sound—different.” Newt headbutts my hand again like a tiny traitor. I pet him anyway. Draven lowers his voice. “It’s because ofher, isn’t it.”
I don’t answer. Which is answer enough.
