Page 77 of For Dear Life

“Oh. You have a ‘type’ then, Rowan?” I ask, and keep walking.

“A type?” He snorts a laugh as he follows. “You’re one of a kind, sweet Violet.”

“One of three—don’t forget my parents. Now, tell me more about this Circle.”

26

GRAYSON

Although I sent Violet a message telling her I’m okay and would be back this evening, I’m still surprised to find her waiting for me. She’s sitting on the bench inside the main building, at the foot of the stairs leading up to Sheridan House.

I smile to myself as I watch Violet for a few moments, at how focused she is on her phone when the girl swore she’d never use one. Sure, Violet rarely uses the thing for anything apart from taking notes and photos—often she forgets to reply to or ignores texts—but like almost every teen she’s never without her phone now.

Yet she messaged me. Twice. Although the second one was in annoyance because I hadn’t replied.

The mouth-watering blood scent reaches me first, and I’m pissed because I prefer Violet’s scent from when I stand close—the subtle citrus of her hair, and how her skin’s warmth intensifies the smell of the ocean smelling soap she uses.

Violet lifts her eyes, detecting my blood too. Despite everything between us, I can never read this girl. Her startling gaze holds mine, face void of anything inside her mind, and as I walk over, our focus remains on each other.

Does the world retreat when I see Violet because every sense focuses on the blood union we crave, or because the girl overwhelms me by just being her? Thoughts of Violet engulfed me the whole time I spent with Josef, and to say I’m obsessed with her is a huge understatement. I could’ve scratched Josef’s eyes out for mentioning Oskar’s intention to kill Violet before she was born.

“Where’s the blood?” Violet asks, phone screen still lit in her hand.

“What? My blood?”

“Yes.”

Whoa. “You want my blood?” I ask warily.

“Good grief! Do you ever think about anything else when you see me?”

Oh yes, Violet. Plenty.

“I mean, you’re uninjured. What did Josef do to you? Hidden injuries?” She pauses. “You were away for some time. I hope he didn’t kill you. Death wouldn’t be pleasant—as I’ve discovered.”

“Right. No, he didn’t kill me. Or injure me. Just a threat or two.” I dig hands into my back pockets and look around. “What’s been happening?”

No other students move through the hallways at this hour. Most are out in town or in the different student houses by now, but Violet peers around her anyway, as if someone followed. “I discovered that Holly’s dance committee is a coven, and that the witches who’re connected to the shifters enjoy renovating houses.”

I close my eyes and shake my head. “The coven, right, we considered that. But witches… They do what? Do you mean the ones connected to Sawyer?”

“Can we talk about this elsewhere?” she asks and stands. “Your room?”

“Uh. Alright.” But my feet don’t move.

She points at my boots. “What’s wrong? Are you concerned I’m using this as an excuse to attack you for your blood?”

“I should be so lucky,” I mutter to myself.

“I heard that.” Violet presses her lips together. “And no, you would not be lucky.”

“Let’s not have this conversation while we’re both pretending blood isn’t in our minds every time we look at each other?” I raise a brow. “Come on.”

The last time Violet visited my room, she definitely wanted my blood, and her confusion and discomfort amused me. For once, I felt in control, not Violet, even if I’d just found myself beside another murder victim. This evening, Violet marches straight to the window, opens it wide and looks down at the path below, rather than at me.

“Rowan and I located a place where shifters labor for witches.” Violet looks back over her shoulder. “A demolition site that Oz and Rory both worked at. We visited, and I saw one of the witches from the hospital on the premises. Also, two shifters, but no Oz.”

I push my discarded blazer from the desk chair and sit. “Wow. Okay. Full story.”

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