I hate that I wish the ritual didn’t have to end.
I hate even more that I want her to mark me up again.
9
Julia
Isthebindingspellmaking Hannah more delicious and addictive? Or am I just now realizing how hard it is to have restraint?
She’s quiet as she shivers behind me, unaware of what I’m about to do. Fog clings to the surrounding trees, their gnarled branches dark splotches against the cloudy sky.
She was so pliant beneath my hands, responding like Charlotte did in the beginning. This sweet, innocent young woman has no idea what she’s inviting in. Perhaps I should feel guilty about the pleasure I take in watching her discover these desires. But a sanguine witch shouldn’t feel guilty about ruining what she touches, just like ivy doesn’t grieve for the tree it strangles.
The fresh power settles into my bones, warm and satisfying. It’s still pitiful compared to a full feeding, but it’s enough for some basic earth magic and a complex spell or two.
I crouch before Florence’s headstone, brushing my palm over the cold, wet grass. The faint remnants of her magic rise through the earth, still there after all these years.
“What are you doing?” Hannah asks in a high voice, shuffling her feet. I’m too aware of her after that feeding—her shivering body, her hands tucked into her sleeves, the breath misting from her lips.
I extend a hand toward the headstone, and with a sharpcrack, a jagged piece breaks off. “Necromancy.”
Hannah gasps. “Absolutely not.”
I look back at her, exasperated. “Your moral compass is exhausting.”
“Your lack of one is terrifying!”
I sigh and pick up the broken piece of marble. “How would you have me ask the dead about my coven, then? Perhaps send a formal invitation to commune? This is our only lead, and we need to follow it.”
“There has to be another way besides raising a dead body!”
I laugh, the sound carrying into the trees. “I’m not about to raise a corpse. This is a simple bone reading.”
“Oh.” Hannah crosses her arms. “But that’s not much better. You’re still desecrating a grave like some kind of—”
“Monster?” I finish, fixing her with a glare that silences her. “We’ve established what I am, pet. Either accept it or walk away.” I pause, letting the words settle. “Ah, but you can’t, can you?”
Hannah stiffens. “Don’t call mepet.”
“Would you preferdarling?Sweetheart?”
She looks away, and even the darkness can’t hide her flush. “How aboutHannah?”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
She snarls. “I hate you.”
“No you don’t. But you want to.”
Before she can protest again, I raise the marble and draw it sharply across my palm. Crimson wells up in the shallow cut.
The sting of the blade is strangely comforting—a sensation I can control, unlike everything else spiraling around me.
Hannah is frozen behind me. “But what if someone sees?”
“I’ll make haste,” I snap. “Now be quiet.”
She covers her mouth, hands still inside her sleeves. Her rapid breaths become muffled.
