“No, she wouldn’t, Fynn, and you know it. That’s all thanks to your lovely sister who defied the curse in the first place. Besides, what you two shared wasn’t even real.”
I wave my hand at him dismissively, annoyed at his attempt to pin her death on me. “You were the one who decided to open up your heart to me,” I continue.
“You’re a snake,” he hisses.
“And I strike when provoked,” I snarl.
He flinches briefly, and my shadows coil around me dangerously, poised to attack if he makes one wrong move. I narrow my eyes at him, and it dawns on me that I no longer sense the depravity within him, despite his anger at me. Carefully, I allow one of my shadows to sneak up behind him. A smoky tendril curls around his lower arm, and he gasps loudly at the invasive sensation. He tries to pull his arm back, but nothing happens; he stays put in a vice grip. I start to cackle, the sound loud and obnoxious. He's pure, his blood a well of unknown magic for us to experiment with. I call out to Reiner, who hastily runs down the stairs.
“What’s wrong?”
When he spots Fynn, with his eyes wide open and a snarl on his face, struggling against the constriction of my shadows, Reiner turns to me. Worry etches on his features as he steps toward me and examines me.
“Are you hurt?”
Reiner holds out my hands, palms up, and twists and turns them to see if he can spot any burns.
“I’m fine, my love.”
I stand on my toes and pull him in for a kiss. Then, I whisper in his ear, spilling what I just learned, our little secret. “His blood is pure; the curse is gone.”
I watch Reiner’s mismatched eyes light up as he digests my words, what this means for us, for our magical practices.
“Oursanguinespells will become a lot stronger, and our necrotic magic… I can’t wait to test it out.”
He nuzzles my neck in excitement. All of it was worth it, every whispered torment: every agony, the revulsion, every shadowed trial. Now we stand here, and despite how the misery carved me hollow, what it offers us now makes that hollowness sacred and worth the sacrifice. Reiner and I shall be the most powerful witches to live, and every coven will bend to our will.
“Caria.” Reiner gently lifts my chin, and I meet his gaze. “There’s no way I can ever repay you for every bleeding step you took, the tithe you offer. You know I was worried sick for you, for the toll you paid to maintain your sanity throughout this entire ordeal.”
I push away a strand of hair behind his ear.
“The toll was worth the path it opened. If I had to, I would do it all over again. For you, for us. It was a burden I carried and surrendered to, and now, we reap what we sowed.”
“I don’t deserve you.” He kisses the tip of my nose.
I know how difficult this was for him; perhaps it was even worse, as all Reiner was able to do was put his trust, our fate, in my hands, without any possibility of intervening, of relieving me. All he could do was watch me execute our plan through unwilling eyes and stand by in silent torment. While I had to pretend to genuinely enjoy the human’s presence, to call to his young ego, seduce him. Bile rises in my throat at the mere thought of those vile fingers touching me.
I glance at Fynn, still strained in my shadows, and pitch-black smoke billows from his mouth, rendering him unable to speak any words. Good. His voice is the last thing I want to listen to in this moment, unless it is because I tear a scream from his lungs. All I want right now is to feel Reiner claim me, to suffocate him between my thighs, but simultaneously, I, too, feel giddy about what possible wonders the purified blood will do.
“Every fiber in my body wants to smother you in my arousal, to roll my hips against you, while you’re filling me completely,” I say, as I lick my lips and stare up at him with half-lidded eyes.
Reiner swallows hard. I know how much he loves it when I express to him that I need him as badly as he wants me.
“But,” I say teasingly, “Let’s play with some sacred blood first.”
“I should fuck you in his blood,” he growls, and a delicious heat begins to spread between my thighs.
He grazes my neck with his teeth, then steps away, letting out a heavy breath, adjusting his cock.
“Blood first, playing later,” Reiner says with a raspy voice.
He moves to the kitchen, leaving me standing there, as I take in his shoulders, that perfect ass of his. When he comes back, he holds a ritual sickle in one hand, the blade dotted with old brown stains.
“I’ll get some vials!” I offer.
I quickly dash to the back of the house, rummage through an old wooden cabinet, and return with six medium-sized glass vials.
“You want him dead that badly, huh?” Reiner laughs.
