I set the cylinder on the silver tray. My knees were shaky. My mouth was bruised. My heart was a drum desperate to run.
Max’s hand found mine and curled, a quick squeeze hidden by the angle of the chaise and the careful theater of the moment. Not proprietary. Not pleading. Just there. A point of contact that said, "I see you."
“Thank you,” he said, barely audible.
I didn’t trust my voice.
Lucy entered, clapped twice, slow and delighted. “Show’s over, darlings. And what do we have here?”
Of course.
My aunt’s mouth curved. “I am not quite sure all of the rules of protocol were followed.” Her eyes gleamed. “I don’t suppose that matters though, does it?”
“ I didn’t mean to,” I said, and didn’t try to hide the tremor in my voice. Heat still pulsed under my skin in greedy waves. “Was that why you were called in?”
“What I wanted,” Lucy said, amused, “was to see what if what Agnus reported was true.”
Agnus muttered, “It was reckless,” and then, after a beat, as if the truth had to be pried out with pliers, “—and effective.”
Lucy angled her head at the lab. “Half the demonesses will be talking about your technique for a week. The other half will be talking about your nerves for a month. The bulls? Well.” She smirked. “Your name is going to cause some trouble in the dorms.”
My cheeks burned, but I couldn’t bring myself to apologize for a single thing.
“And Max?” Lucy asked, voice softer.
I swallowed, tasted clove and salt and him. “He said my name like he meant it.”
“Of course he did,” Lucy said, pleased. “He’s a good bull. And you, dearest, are finally hungry enough to stop lying about it. Now then, it would appear that we have a little problem regarding our contest.”
CHAPTER NINE
MAX
The air in the stall still felt charged, humming under my skin. My pulse hadn’t caught up to the fact that the trial was over. Ivy stood beside me, flushed, hair a little wild, eyes dazed in the kind of way that made it hard to breathe. I’d never seen anyone look more alive.
She was calm,dangerous, and entirely too pleased with herself. Her heels clicked once on the tile before she smiled, a slow curve that promised trouble.
“Well,” she said, drawing out the word like a toast. “That was quite the display.”
Ivy stiffened. I straightened, not sure if I was supposed to salute or run.
Lucy stepped closer, her gaze sharp and amused. “Congratulations, my dears. Take a look at your wrists.”
I frowned and glanced down. A thin band of light circled my skin, gold and faintly pulsing, like it had a heartbeat of its own. I turned my hand, the glow steady, then saw the same mark on Ivy’s wrist.
The realization hit instantly. “We’ve imprinted,” I said.
Ivy blinked. “We’ve what?”
Before I could answer, Lucy clasped her hands. “Imprinted,” she repeated, delighted. “A bond beyond contracts or ceremony. One soul recognizing another and deciding they’re stuck together forever. Quite romantic, if you like eternal consequences.”
Ivy’s voice faltered. “You mean… he’s tied to me?”
Lucy’s grin was wicked. “Oh, darling. You’re tied to each other. Welcome to the rarest union in Hell.”
Ivy’s face went pale. She stared at me, guilt clouding her features. “I didn’t mean to trap you.”
That hit like a punch. “You didn’t.” I took a breath, finding my words. “The last thing I want is to clip your wings. You’ve already had that happen once, and I don’t ever want to be part of that happening to you.”
