Page 90 of Hexes and Exes

I look down at Ava, understanding and determination shining in her eyes. “Only for you,” I murmur and release my shadows.

Others are moving around us. Ambrose rushes to Piper’s side, ripping off his coat and pressing it to the still bleeding wound on her arm. Roman steps to the edge of the stage, his face serious as he looks out at the crowd.

“I know we’re all pissed and there’s a lot of confusion.” The wind whips at his hair and the vines decorating the walls twistand slither like snakes. “But we can’t tear people to pieces, and we can’t destroy this ballroom in anger or frustration. I suggest we keep the council members under house arrest until we can determine, as a coven, what to do next.”

“Fuck that,” someone shouts, and all hell breaks loose again. Half the coven runs out of the ballroom screaming. A handful of concerned witches come up front to help with the council, and the rest go back to fighting each other.

I pull Ava back into my arms and away from the closest fight. “I don't know what the bar for a successful night was, but I’d say this qualifies.”

Ava huffs out annoyed laughter as she surveys the room. It’s a mess, people are still fighting, but nearly two-thirds of the coven has left. I cup her cheek and turn her head to look up at me. The ink on my finger stands out like a beacon against her skin. How the hell did I get this lucky? It doesn’t seem real. Ava rests her hand on my chest, her eyes dropping to her bare ring finger.

A sad smile touches her lips as she turns and presses a kiss to my hand. I wish I was an empath like her just now, so I could know exactly what she’s feeling.

Two witches stumble into my side. I push Ava behind me and glare at the idiots. They’re not even using magic to fight anymore; they have each other in dual headlocks and are spinning in a circle.

“Crone help us all,” I mutter and break up the fight.

38

BRAM

The ballroom looks like a tornado came through it. The black silk cloth draped across the ceiling is hanging limply. Flowering vines have shriveled. Candles still flicker, but at least half of them have blown out. I could relight them but I don’t feel like making the effort.

The coven dragged their asses out of here looking exhausted, defeated, and many of them bloodied. I know the feeling. There’s nothing like learning you’ve been betrayed by someone who was supposed to have your best interest in mind.

Ambrose, Stellan, and Odie organized a group of witches to take the coven council to their respective houses. Once there, the plan is to put a spell on their homes, basically locking them under house arrest. The magic will need to be refreshed every few days, but until we can figure out what to do with the corrupt council, it will have to suffice.

Roman and Josephine are comforting Piper, who hasn’t recovered from whatever happened to her up on that stage. I still don’t understand why she robotically went to her uncle as if she couldn’t fight his command. Josephine found a first aid kit fromsomewhere and is cleaning Piper’s arm before she heals it with her magic.

Ava’s standing in the middle of the ballroom, staring down at her hand. I step up behind her and wrap my arms around her. Her head leans back against my chest. She’s kicked off her shoes and slots perfectly under my chin. I don’t know why I got the mark, but she hasn’t, because she’s my fated bond.

“You deserve so much better.” My statement is layered with meaning. Ava deserves more than this coven, more than the way she’s been treated by her family, more than me. “I don’t deserve you, but I will spend the rest of my life trying to prove that I’m worthy.”

Ava spins around, her mouth pressed into an angry line.

“Fuck off.” Ava sniffles, and then throws her arms around my shoulders. “I don’t know why you have a mark and I don’t, but you’re worth loving. And if your fated bond is some other witch who was here tonight, then tough shit. You’re not getting rid of me. I love you, and I’m never wrong, just so you know. Make of that what you will.”

I chuckle and cradle her cheek. “A mark doesn’t matter. It can’t begin to compare with how I feel inside. You are my partner in every way, my equal, a love fated just for each other. I love you, for now and for always, mark or not.” I level her with a steely gaze. “But if I ever find that creepy doll in my house again, I will get revenge.”

Ava snorts, and I capture her lips in a soul searing kiss. Ava pulls back, her eyes wide and lips parted on a gasp.

“What is it?”

She holds up her hand. Black inky vines are twining around her finger, a perfect match to mine. “What? Why now? Why not twenty minutes ago?” she snarls at her finger like it can answer her back.

A cane taps heavily on the ground. Fitz slowly makes her way over to the two of us. I didn’t even know she was here tonight. “Get out of my way,” she snaps at a few witches still lingering in the ballroom. She's wearing a jumpsuit, but there are sequins across the chest spelling princess. She’s not wearing a mask, but she does have a small tiara crookedly perched on her head.

Are those real diamonds?

Fitz whacks someone in the back of the knee when they don’t get out of the way fast enough and finally comes to a stop in front of us. She’s so short that even Ava has to angle her head down to look at the witch.

“That was your fault.” Fitz picks up Ava’s inked hand and waves it around.

“How is this my fault?” Ava snatches her hand back, pressing it to her heart.

“He was all in. Shocker. I thought he’d fight his feelings till the grave.” Fitz stabs her cane in my direction. I jump back out of the cane’s trajectory, pulling Ava with me.

Fitz watches with a piercing gaze. “You didn’t believe you were worthy. Literally self-sabotage. I hope that’s a lesson learned. Believe in yourself. If you don’t think you’re worth it, no one else will.”

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