Page 4 of Blood Witch

“Why doyou say things like that, Mabe?” Jade asked, and I wondered when she arrived.

The earth witch offered me her hand, and I took it, standing up slowly. Her concerned gaze struck me somewhere deep, and I glanced down to avoid her overflowing emotions. Releasing her hand, I nodded at her, closing my eyes at the familiar wave of dizziness that rushed over me. I usually got those after drinking so much blood so quickly.

“You drank too fast,” Arlo observed.

He had his hands on Jade’s hips, and for a moment, I imagined he was simply acting the romance hero, like in the books I read late at night on the secret eReader app I’d added to my school tablet. The bit of techy hacking abilities I had served me well in that endeavor.

I would hate for it to get out that I had a secret romance fetish.

But what could I say?

I loved reading what normals wrote about us supes. Paranormal romance authors had a lot of it surprisingly correct from their guesses about what kinds of supernatural creatures actually existed—no Big Foot though, folks, sorry—to their take on fated mates.

But Arlo wasn’t acting like any of my favorite book boyfriends. I knew that the second he tugged her backward, moving to stand in front of Jade protectively. I was sure he thought he was acting on the down low, all slick and unassuming.

But I knew the truth. Arlo was afraid of me like this. At least, he was afraid for Jade. And the truth of it was, I didn’t blame him. Not one itty bitty bit. Emphasis on thebitpart, as in, the hot boy healer didn’t want his pretty mate to get bit by the evil blood witch, aka me. I was the evil blood witch.

“Mabe? Are you okay?” Jade asked, concern ringing in her voice as she peered around her mate.

He stood firm, keeping her behind his body, and in a way, I respected him for it. Jade was good and kind. I would hate myself if I hurt her, and everything we knew about blood witches said it was possible.

I was a fucking monster.

The old tomes we’d found with passages concerning blood witches were mostly recorded accounts of unprovoked attacks. According to the Memoirs of Headmaster Ulrich McSorley back in 1822, it was dangerous to approach a blood witch before, during, and immediately after a feeding.

“Fine. I’m fine,” I said, offering the couple a weak smile. “I have to get back to work,” I mumbled, ignoring their concerned glances.

“Mabe, you should take the rest of the day off—”

“Can’t afford to do that, hot boy healer,” she said.

Purposely using the nickname Jade had given him, I snorted when the earth witch blushed hot pink. It was just the distraction I needed to slip into the hallway. There was an hour left of shift before I needed to get to my first class, and I had things to do.

“Thanks for that, Mabe,” Jade muttered after me.

I noticed her turning in Arlo’s arms and placing her hands flat against his chest. The male held his mate and nuzzled her nose while she said something that made them both laugh.

Whatever.

I was used to their PDAs by now. It shouldn’t have struck me the way it did, but I felt a hollow in the middle of my chest, and the dull ache there made me wince. She was so pretty. Jade was the perfect combination of cute and curvy. The polar opposite of me. Where she was soft and enticing, I was too skinny, all angles and flat-chested to boot.

But it wasn’t just her body that made her pretty. Jade had the friendliest smile and the most optimistic outlook on life than anyone else I had ever met. Sure Rio, Maia, and Enid were all pretty. Hell, even Tana, with her red mane of hair and resting bitch face, was gorgeous, but Jade was special.

Maybe it was because she was the first female friend I had. Or maybe it was just her. The point was, I would do anything to keep Jade safe. Trying not to react as Arlo put himself in front of her, like I was some kind of mindless monster, hurt me in a way I was not prepared for.

I’d known Arlo for months. He’d helped me manage my hunger before I ever told Jade or the rest of my roommates. But times like these reminded me of the one thing I could never forget.

I was not like the rest. I wasother. An outsider. Forever looking in on what the others shared.

Friendship. Love. Trust.

Fuck this.

I had enough to do without wallowing in my own dark thoughts. So, I put my head down and got back to work. Bed pans weren’t going to empty themselves.

* * *

Sixty-seven minutes later…

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