Page 113 of The Witch They Fear

"I haven't,” I blurt out.

"And he hasn't asked?"

"He… offered. But I declined."

"Then it'll fade. Margo can speed it up with an unbinding, which I'd recommend, because active fade is more reliable than passive. But if you did nothing else, it would go on its own,” Shandy says.

Margo: "I would strongly recommend the unbinding regardless."

"Cosigned," Tess says.

God, this is all too much. I knew the blood had something to do with it, but a bond? A blood bond? Kage is certified insane if he thinks I’ll drink his blood again. “All this and I didn't even, technically, choose to drink it," I mumble.

The room goes very still.

"…what?" I don’t even catch who asks the question.

"I didn't exactly—he sort of—"

"Excuse me?" Nellie leans forward, forcing my eyes to meet hers.

"I was hurt and he—he pinned me and put his wrist over my mouth and made me drink–

"Calypso Marie Dellaby,” Margo barks.

“That’s not my middle name.”

“It is now!” She shakes her head like she’s disgusted. “CAL."

Tess has stood up. Margo is no longer in her armchair. She’s standing also.

Shandy, this time, doesn't move. She has gone very still in a different way. Watching me. Listening.

"He forced a blood-bond on you."

"He—I mean—"

"He forced a blood-bond on you, Cal,” Nellie says.

"I—when you put it like that—"

"There's no other way to put it. He held you down and put his blood in your mouth."

"Margo—" I say, trying to think of anything to make the situation sound less horrible.

"That is a reportable offense, Cal. That is a council matter. You can have him removed from campus, you can have him brought up on charges, you can—"

"Margo,” I snap. I realize it’s insane that some part of me is trying to protect him. Again, by the way… What’s wrong with me? Maybe that’s exactly what having a vamp’s blood in your system does. It makes you sympathize with them. Gives you fucked up supernatural stockholm syndrome.

"What?" Margo sticks out her neck like she’d be delighted to hear what kind of battered-woman excuse I’m about to give.

I blow out a breath. "Look, he's not—he's not a student. He's not faculty either. He's—it's complicated."

Margo: "Complicated." Her eyes narrow.

“I don’t think he’s in a position where any of those things would happen to him, Margo, they would happen to me. I bring it to the council, I’m the one who gets evaluated. I’m the one who gets asked why I let it happen. I am the one whose parole gets reconsidered. He gets a write-up at worst. A slap on the wrist."

The room digests this.