Page 58 of Wicked Chains
My heavy boots leave wet prints on the stairs as I descend. By the time I reach the ground, Rose has made it halfway across the quad.
Students mill about in the freshly fallen snow, some making halfhearted attempts at snowballs, others taking photos of the winter wonderland for their social media. None of them matter. Only Rose matters.
I cut a direct path toward her, watching her face as she notices me approaching. Her steps falter just slightly, she still has some sense of self-preservation, but then she straightens her shoulders and continues forward. Defiant to the last. It's what makes her so worthy of breaking.
When we're ten feet apart, I stop directly in her path. Her eyes narrow, already on guard.
"Hello, sweet Rose," I say, letting my gaze travel slowly down her body and back up again. "Quite the busy week you've had."
She stiffens but holds her ground. "Get out of my way, Ash. I'm not in the mood for your games."
"Games? Is that what you think this is? A game?" I step closer, invading her personal space. "If so, you're playing a dangerous one with all your little pets."
A flash of anger crosses her face. "They're not pets. And who I spend my time with is none of your business. As I’ve made clear."
I reach out and trail a finger along her jawline, smirking when she flinches but doesn't step back. I lean in, my lips close to her ear. "I can smell the vampire on you. His blood mingles with yours now. Did you enjoy feeding him? Did it excite you to feel his fangs in your throat?"
She jerks her head away. "Fuck you."
I notice that we're starting to draw an audience. Students have stopped their snow play to watch the drama unfolding. "Yes, you've been very busy lately, haven't you? The ghost, the incubus, and now the vampire. Collecting the full set, are we? Should I expect you to add a werewolf next? Perhaps a banshee?"
Her cheeks flush red. "You're disgusting."
"I'm disgusting? I'm not the one spreading my legs for creatures of indiscriminate kind." The cruelty in my voice surprises even me, but jealousy burns hot. "Tell me, does it bother you that Drake might disappear forever mid-thrust? Or is that part of the excitement?"
Rose's hand comes up, ready to slap me, but I catch her wrist easily. "Careful now. You're already on thin ice."
"Let go of me," she demands, her voice steady despite the fear I can feel trembling through our connection.
I release her wrist but don't step back. "You think because you can share your body with these men that you have any power here? You think they can protect you from me?" I laugh. "They're temporary pleasures while you avoid the inevitable, Rose."
"And what's that?" she challenges, eyes flashing.
"That eventually, you'll come to me. That in the end, it's me you belong to." I gesture to her arm. "This binds you to me in ways you and your little menagerie can't begin to understand."
A crowd has definitely formed now, students watching with undisguised interest as the academy's strangest witch faces off against me. I spot Thorne among them, her cruel blue eyes alight with malicious glee, and Harry beside her, his beefy arms crossed over his chest.
"I don't belong to anyone," Rose says, loud enough for the onlookers to hear. "Not you, not the Blood Moon Coven, no one."
The dismissive note in her voice ignites something primal in me, a mixture of rage and desire.
"You need to be reminded of your place," I say softly, dangerously. "Follow me. Now."
She doesn't move, her stance widening slightly as if preparing for a fight. "No."
One word. So simple, yet so infuriating. Her refusal fans the flames of my anger higher, but it also excites me in a way I hadn't expected.
"No?" I repeat, my voice dropping low so that only she can hear. "You dare to refuse me? After everything you've learned about what I can do to you?"
"And I'm done being afraid of you."
A slow smile spreads across my face. "Oh, Rose. You sweet, naïve little witch. Let me show you what happens to witches who don't obey."
I focus on the blood mark binding us together, on the connection that allows me to feel her every emotion, to know her every action. I pull on that thread, sending my will through it like an electric current. The response is immediate—Rose gasps, her eyes widening as pain lances up her arm from the mark.
"What are you doing?" she whispers, gripping her forearm where the mark burns beneath her sleeve.
"Teaching you a lesson," I reply, intensifying my focus. "Kneel."
