I pushed myself up to a sitting position by my elbows, resting against the headboard as he held the straw for me and I choked down the disgusting, iron-rich sludge.
Every Magik gained a boost in power if they found and bonded to their mate, but also a weakness. For vampires, their strength came at the cost of their blood sources, because he could only feed from me from now on, and he needed a lot.
For witches, our spells became amplified but then tied to the emotions of our mate. If they were mad, upset, happy—all that was reflected in our work, which relied a lot on intentions. Not that I’d had a chance to even see the difference in my abilities, since Victor didn’t allow me to have a cauldron and runed the place against witch magic.
He didn’t allow me to have anything from my old life, in fact. I didn’t know if he’d thrown everything away or stuck it all in storage somewhere, but he wouldn’t even give me my old family photo albums or my gaming system, because he insisted on providing me with everything.
Not having my cauldron was awful, but a distant second was definitely the clothes. Victor wanted me in sexy little nightgowns and lingerie only. Twenty-four seven. There was not a single pair of pants, no underwear that covered my whole ass, andabsolutely no cotton—everything was silk, satin, or lace. I didn’t even have any shoes.
The smell of the Sanguis Vita was making me ill.
“You know,” I said, between gagging, “if you let me have my cauldron and some ingredients, I bet I could—”
“No.”
I bit the inside of my cheek in frustration, doing my best to keep my tone sweet. “Can I at least have my spell books? Maybe I could come up with a recipe and some other witch—”
“No!” he repeated, not bothering to hide his anger.
With that, his limit on my aftercare had been hit—it always hit faster if I made him upset—and he shoved the glass in my hands and headed towards the bathroom. “I want that finished by the time I’m done.”
My face heated as I stared at the sludge. Why did he have to make me feel like a misbehaving child all the time?
The door slammed shut and the shower turned on. I probably only had a few minutes until he came back out, and quickly downed about half of it. My face scrunched in disgust, and as I paused to convince my stomach not to send everything back up in protest, his phone lit with an incoming message from the bedside table.
My interest piqued. I hadn’t had access to a phone or a computer since that night we’d met. I wondered if it was at all possible to guess his passcode and just send a quick message to my parents. I always called them once a week, no matter how busy I was, so they must have been worried sick with my silence.
Victor’s paranoia surrounding the knowledge of our bond was over the top and suffocating, but I still didn’t know why he wouldn’t let me tell my parents I was alive and safe.
Well, safe-ish.
Curiosity got the better of me and I took a look at the screen.
Jessyka: Can’t wait to see you again tonight! <3
My stomach flipped like a rug had been slipped out from under me, and I was going to be sick for real.
I ran out of the bedroom and into the half-bath down the hall, puking up all the Sanguis Vita I’d just drank, tears rolling uncontrollably down my cheeks.
Who was Jessyka? And why did I care? I didn’t even like Victor, but he was my mate, my bonded alpha, and that relationship and the power he held over me was all I had. He was a star, too large for a small planet like me to avoid his gravitational pull, and I was hopelessly stuck in his orbit.
And he insisted that feeling was mutual, that I was all he thought about, but then…
Who was Jessyka?
Victor knocked at the door. “Sage? What’s wrong? You didn’t finish your drink.”
“Go away,” I groaned, hiccuping and crying.
I double checked that I’d locked the door, but I should have known better than to hope he would ever give me any privacy. He pushed it open with ease, fury rolling off him in invisible waves. “You don’t ever tell me to go away, understood? Now tell me this instant what’s gotten into you.”
I heaved again, and I could feel his rage begin to lessen just a fraction, as thought he was actually worried I might be sick, until I gathered my courage and spat, “Why don’t you tell me what you’ve gotten into? Or rather,whoyou’ve gotten into?”
He stilled, his expression unchanging. He didn’t even breathe, and you could have mistaken him for a statue if not for the one, brief blink of his eyes. “What are you even talking about?”
The temperature dropped in the small bathroom, and I shivered before feeling my stomach muscles contract again, trying to help the disgusting blood supplemental vacate the rest of the way. “Jessyka,” I finally said. “She can’twaitto see you again.”
I prepared myself for another round of his vitriol, some clever punishment to get me in line until I apologized to him, but instead he chuckled. “Those instincts are finally kicking in, I see.”
