Page 55 of Break Her Heart
I stood quickly, faster than I intended to. “It was forged by the leader of a coven on a small island west of here. He spelled it to seek out vampires—to make the hunt easier.”
Benedict grunted from the shadows. First sound from him in hours. He watched her with something between awe and fear. Not like the others did, drawn by her scent. He watched her hands. The way they moved. How gracefully she moved with a sword. And yet her bare hands were far more dangerous.
“Carrow heard of it and slaughtered the entire coven to claim it,” Benedict said. “It’s on the far end of that shelf. That was when he still wore our grandfather’s body.”
Winnie followed Benedict’s direction before stepping onto her toes to reach the blade. I clenched my jaw, resisting the pull to help her.
She’d spent the last hour drifting from artifact to artifact, touching each one like she owned them. Benedict winced every time. He’d spent decades preserving this room like a sacred tomb, and now a young, temperamental witch treated it like a market stall.
Winnie studied the sword in her hand, turning it slowly, watching how the runes shimmered beneath her fingers. She pointed it away from us at first, thoughtful. Then, without a word, she turned it toward Benedict.
The engravings glowed, pulsing like they recognized the blood in his veins.
She smiled. “I could’ve used this hunting.”
Hunting. My vision swam.
The humid night air had clung to her skin, and when she lowered her hood, I remembered how my body reacted. The moment I caught her scent—sharp, maddening, unlike anything I’d known—I had moved without thinking, standing before her in a blink. She didn’t cower. She lifted her chin and met my gaze like she was the threat, not me.
When I brushed her hair back, exposing her neck, I thought she would run. She didn’t. I inhaled, trying to place what she was. Human, yes. But there was something ancient in her blood. Something wild.
I bit her.
Her blood hit my tongue like lightning. The world narrowed to just that taste, that moment. But then the pain came, the tearing sensation when she pulled the magic from me, her hand around my throat like a vice. It gutted me. And gods help me, I loved it. She stood looking down at me, victory carved across her face like a crown she thought she’d earned.
Then it shifted. Her arms wrapped around me, kissing me like it was the last time she would. That was the night she tricked me. The night she kissed me to steal from me again. I remembered the feel of her lips on mine, the way she pulled me closer like she needed me, like this was something real. I let myself believe it. I carried her to my bed. I touched her like she was something sacred.
I moved inside her slowly, memorizing every sound she made, every tremble of her breath. I thought I was giving her something. I thought we were sharing something.
Then she pulled the magic from me again.
Her hands in my hair as she ripped the power from me. I saw the tears in her eyes like it hurther. She took my strength and my trust and yet she looked upset.
I looked at her now and all I felt was rage.
Not just rage—something worse. Something festering. Something alive. It curled inside my ribcage like a living thing, slithering up my spine and coiling tight around my thoughts until they weren’t thoughts at all, just noise. White, buzzing, blistering noise.
How dare she stand there, radiant and unbothered, when I was the ruin she made? How dare she look at me with those eyes—green and glinting and full of secrets—and act like she didn’t know exactly what she did to me? Like she didn’t carve her name into every breath I took?
I wanted to rip the memory of her from my mind. I wanted to strip the want from my bones. But she was in everything. In the way the candlelight moved. In the smell of dust and blood. In the throb behind my eyes.
My jaw ached. I didn’t know when I started grinding my teeth.
I hated her. Gods, I hated her. And I wanted her more than I had ever wanted anything in my life.
I blinked hard and forced myself back to the table, lowering into my chair with a stiffness I hadn’t noticed settling into my limbs. I grabbed another tome at random, anything to distract myself. But the letters swam before my eyes. The words twisted, refused to make sense. I reread the same paragraph three times before realizing I hadn’t retained a single line.
Her scent still clung to the air. Her voice echoed in my skull. Hunger was eroding every thought that wasn’t her.
I rubbed at my temple, frustrated, furious with myself. I couldn’t afford this. Not now. Not when every second mattered.
* * *
We dined alone that evening.
The dining hall, usually filled with sharp-tongued siblings and sharper glances, sat eerily quiet. Lavina had kept her distance since Winnie nearly set her aflame with a single thought.
Halston was nowhere to be found, which I found to be odd considering he always waited for us at dinner as if he was hopingwe would compliment how well he put it together. It was always exquisite, but I’d never tell him that.
