Page 120 of Fated In Blood

“Aria?”Blake knocked again, louder this time, his knuckles striking the wood door frame with the same aggressive bullheadedness he applied to every other situation. “Come on, I know you’re here.”

“Maybe she’s not?” I gripped his hand harder and leaned out to get a better view of the perfectly tended backyard. “I mean, she could be anywhere.”

Witches were not exactly a known entity to me, more like a cautionary tale. I had spent the better part of my life walking the narrow line between the human world and the supernatural one, so I knew witches existed, but the Silverwoods, especially, shared a complicated history with the covens, at best.

At worst, we were at war. I didn’t know if we were still at war, and if that war applied to me or only my father and uncles.

“Blake, maybe we should leave. Try something else. The mark doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

“Why so nervous, little slayer?” he teased, following my gaze around the corner toward the backyard, where a strikingly ornate Victorian greenhouse was outlined against the blue of Long Island Sound.

“Uhm…there’s probably something you should know.” He tugged me down a cobblestone path then out onto the clipped grass. “My uncles…my father, they aren’t exactly on good terms with witches.”

“That’s not a surprise, given they’re a bunch of barbaric fucks.” Blake headed straight for the greenhouse, where the door stood half open. A trap, if I’d ever seen one, and I tried digging my heels in but only succeeded in tearing muddy furrows into the perfectly manicured lawn.

Yeah, somebody was definitely going to have to reseed that.

“Blake, I’m serious. My family’s been at war with the witches for centuries. For all I know, they’ll kill me the second they see me.”

“Nobody’s going to kill you, little slayer.” He finally stopped and gripped my shoulders, stooping down until he looked me dead in the eye.

“Shit. I’ve gone about this whole thing wrong. There’s so much I should have told you, and I will, but we don’t have time for an etiquette lesson. You’re not a Silverwood anymore. You’re part of the Nocturne Clan now.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” I tried to twist away but he held me tight.

He sighed and wound a strand of hair around his fingers, dragging his thumb down my cheek, his eyes never leaving mine. “You belong to us, Evangeline. You ceased to be a Silverwood the moment Rohr’s blood began flowing in your veins. After you left, he and I decided. Your name is Evangeline Marten Graves now.”

The name rolled off his tongue like he’d been waiting forever to speak it, and a shiver thrilled down my spine at the sheer ferocity of his stare.

A shiver of pure excitement, but fear, too, because the weight of that look felt momentous.

“I made myself a promise, Blake, a very long time ago.” I strung the words together carefully, not wanting to ruin this moment yet knowing there was a line I had to draw.

Now, before it was too late.

“I’vebelongedto someone before. So thoroughly I didn’t have a beginning or an end. They ruined me, and it took all my strength to crawl up out of that hole they put me in. I will never allow myself to be controlled like that again, to the point where my thoughts are not my own. I won’t be caged, not even by you. I need you to understand that.”

I expected him to stomp away in a fit of temper, but all Blake did was hold my stare, the golden flecks in his eyes flashing.

“I have nodesire,” Blake spoke, as carefully as I had, as if he, too, knew how tenuous this moment was between us. “To cage your body or your mind, or to take your free will away, Evangeline.” Nolittle slayerthis time, no nicknames betweenus, and another one of those full-body shivers hummed through me.

“I have no desire to possessanyof those pieces of you. However…” His smile turned his face into a work of art, the sun gilding one side in gold. “The only part of you I wish to possess is your heart.”

He laid a finger over my lips when I went to protest. “You can’t deny there’ssomethingbetween us. Something I won’t put a name on this soon, but all I’m asking for is a chance. One chance to prove I’m worthy of you. I’ve been a fool, Evangeline. A stubborn, jealous fool, but I’m not going to make that mistake again.

“Only when you ran did I realize what I’d lost. Only when I found you again and saw how badly Silas had hurt you”—his jaw clenched and a vessel in his neck began to pound—“did I realize true fear. And only when I smelled Malachi Draven’s scent on you did I know what true jealousy felt like.”

“I didn’t mean to,” I argued past his finger.

“I know that, but I’m old and cantankerous and it takes me longer than most to figure things out, Evie.” My head spun, not only from Blake’s blunt admission, but from his steady, serious tone. This was no game; he meant every word.

“In so many ways, I’ve fucked up. I have severed every tie that bound us with my hate, and broken every promise between us with my jealousy, but I will fix them all, if you let me try. I’ll crawl through fire for just one more chance. Tell me how and I will do anything you ask.”

His smile wavered. “Tell me I can still make things right between us. Tell me it’s not too late.”

I didn’t think I was breathing, completely lost to that consuming stare, shaken by his words and the strength of his declaration.

I wanted to say something.

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