by Sadie Moss
Carrick laughed, the sound grating in my ears even more than usual. “You three are free to do whatever you like. As I said, you’ve passed your trials. You are free to leave the Penumbra anytime you like, Miss Tate.”
Willow exhaled a soft breath, but it was cut off by Carrick’s next words.
“However, I won’t risk anymore of my people on this hunt. Too many have died already. If you wish to gamble on this fool’s errand, go ahead. But you’ll have no support from me.”
Now her muscles tensed under my grip, though it wasn’t out of fear, but anger. “Too many died already because you never took the hunt for the sisters seriously in the first place! Because you let them infiltrate the Penumbra and hid while they struck down your people and ransacked the castle. Because you’re a fucking cowa—”
“Oookay, Will. Time to go.” Jerrett grabbed Willow’s shoulders, tugging her away from the king.
I tightened my grip on her arm slightly, and the two of us steered her toward the doorway. Turning back over my shoulder, I said, “We understand, Carrick. We never expected your help.”
That subtle jab didn’t go unnoticed, but Carrick dismissed us with a grumble. Just in time too. Willow’s aura churned with anger, and Jerrett’s body was tense as a taut bowstring as we escorted Willow out into the corridor. If we’d stayed any longer, one—or all three of us—would’ve ended up going too far and antagonizing the king beyond what his thin veneer of self-control could stand.
The double doors closed behind us with a thud, and I relaxed slightly. Jerrett and I both kept our grips on Willow though, as if we suspected she’d run right back into the room and challenge Carrick to a duel if we let go.
As we walked up the stairs toward our rooms in the northwest corner of the palace, Willow finally drew in a deep breath and let it out in a heavy sigh.
“Sorry. He just makes me so furious.”
“Hey, sweetheart. You never have to apologize for putting a fuckstick like Carrick in his place.” Jerrett leaned down to plant a kiss on her hair. “We’re just trying to keep you alive. We kinda like you.”
“Yeah?” Her voice softened. “I kinda like you too.”
I ran my hand down her arm, feeling goose bumps rise in its wake, and threaded my fingers through hers.
Like was hardly the word for what existed between all of us.
I loved this woman. I was certain of it. Although I’d known her for a relatively short time compared to the full length of my life, it was those hundred and fifty years I’d lived that made me so certain of my feelings.
In all that time, I had never felt about another woman the way I felt about our Willow.
But I hadn’t said those words to her yet, and neither had Jerrett—I was sure of it. Everything between us felt like it was on hold until Malcolm returned. As if Fate had always meant for it to be the four of us, and without him, something was broken.
Although Willow had slept in our arms the past two days and always found ways to stay physically close to us, she hadn’t initiated anything more. She wasn’t pulling away, exactly, but there was a wall around her heart that I knew would only come down when Malcolm returned to us and our group was whole again.
If he returns.
I silenced the small voice whispering in my head, not wanting Willow to pick up on my concerns.
In truth, I had assumed he would be back by now. I understood why he’d left, knew the torture his memories must be putting him through. Jerrett and I had been so concerned with Willow after the shade attack that we’d barely noticed Malcolm slip out the window, dropping into the shadows of the trees below. We hadn’t pursued him because we both knew how our brother could be when he got lost in his own mind.
I’d never known anyone who was as hard on themselves as Malcolm. His inner demons screamed so loud that sometimes I wasn’t sure if he’d ever drown out their voices. So I’d understood his need to escape for a while, to come to terms with what had happened—to process the fact that he’d almost killed Willow.
But it wasn’t like him to stay gone this long. Not when danger threatened his people. Not when there was work to be done.
“Are you all right?”
Willow’s soft voice pulled me from my thoughts, and I felt her attention on me like the bright glow of a fire. She radiated warmth, and when she cast her gaze on me, I felt like the luckiest damn man in the world.
“Yes, Willow tree.” I squeezed her hand. “I’m just anxious to get out of here.”
I’d sensed other vampires watching us as we walked, and although their stares didn’t hold the same hungry malice they once had, I didn’t want to push our luck. Willow was still a half-fae confined in a castle with hundreds of vampires—the very race who had wiped out her people long ago, bingeing on their addictive blood and the power high that came with it.
“Me too,” she whispered softly as we reached the door to her room. “But… should we leave? What if he—?”
“Mal won’t be coming back here, Will. I’m sure of it.” Jerrett’s voice was sharp. Then he sighed, pushing the door open. “When he wants to find us, he will. His trail disappeared into the woods. He’s nowhere close. We’ll go back to New York, and he can meet us at the house. Hell, maybe he’s already there.”
Willow’s aura brightened as we entered the large room. It was technically hers, but since Malcolm’s disappearance, Jerrett and I had as good as moved in. “Do you think so?”
“Yeah, sure.” Jerrett laughed, though it was strained. “The fuckwaffle is probably sitting on the couch watching entire seasons of Pretty Little Liars and making Yuliya feed him bon-bons.”
Willow snorted, walking over to the large wardrobe along one wall. “Does Malcolm really watch Pretty Little Liars?”
“Eh, we have no definitive evidence of it, but I wouldn’t put it past him.”
She chuckled, her aura brightening a little more. The wardrobe doors swung open, and my ears caught the soft swish of fabric falling to the floor.
I froze, my head turning toward Willow. Jerrett groaned.
“Motherfucking goddamn, sweetheart. Warn a guy first.”
“You’ve seen it all before,” Willow shot back, a smile in her voice. “Pretty up close and personal, if I remember correctly.”
My hands clenched into fists, my cock twitching as my heartbeat picked up. I couldn’t see Willow like my brother could, but I didn’t need sight to know that her round, firm breasts rose and fell gently with each breath she took. Or that her sweet nipples were pebbled into hard buds—not from cold, but in response to our attention. I knew her waist dipped inward in a soft slope, and the swell of her hips led down to strong, lean legs. And between those legs… I could smell her arousal, a scent I had come to crave even more, perhaps, than her blood.
Willow sucked in a breath, her aura churning as a wave of desire washed over her. “I… God, I want you both. So much.”
“Oh, fuck a holy angel.” Jerrett’s voice was tight.
“But I don’t… I don’t think I can yet.” Willow shook her head in frustration, a soft cherry-almond scent wafting up from her hair as the strands moved against each other. “I want to. But without Malcolm here… I don’t know. Nothing feels right. I’m so worried about him. And mad at him. And a million other things at him.”
“We know, sweetheart. We get it. Believe me.”
“We truly do, Willow tree.” I stepped forward, tugging a small lock of her hair between my fingers. I could practically feel the softness and warmth of her skin, but I resisted the urge to pull her into my arms. Instead, I reached into the wardrobe, pulling out a pair of pants and a simple top. She would have no need for dresses for a while.
“Thank you.” Her voice was quiet, heavy with unspoken words.
She took the clothes from me, slipping them on quickly, and I relaxed. It was hard to maintain focus around a naked Willow.
Jerrett cleared his throat, bringing us back to the topic at hand. “So it’s decided. We’ll leave tonig
ht. It’ll take us a few hours to shadow run back to the car, and a few more hours to drive back to New York.”
“Will we make it by dawn?” Willow asked.
“Maybe not. But my car is enchanted to repel sunlight, so we’ll be fine.”
“Okay.” Willow pulled on her boots before crossing to the bedside table to retrieve the small dagger she’d kept there since the attack. It made a soft snick as she slid it into her boot sheath. She straightened, turning toward us. “I’m ready.”
“You travel light. I like it.” Jerrett chuckled.
“I’d rather not take anything of Carrick’s.” Her voice darkened.
Amen to that.
We left the guest wing and trooped down to the castle entrance. Carrick had put more guards on duty at all the doors, though I had to wonder how effective they’d be in the event of another shade attack. At least he was making some effort to keep his people safe, even if his motive was purely self-preservation.
We passed through the large entrance doors and down the path that led to the dense forest surrounding the castle. As we stepped into the woods, Willow let out a small sigh of happiness and relief.
“What do you say, sweetheart?” Jerrett asked. “Ready to fly?”
“Oh, hell yes.”
Jerrett’s answering laugh was left in our wake as the three of us ran from shadow to shadow, moving like the wind.
It took us several hours to reach the small country road in upstate New York where Jerrett had left his car. The speed of shadow running wasn’t conducive to conversation, so our run was quiet. I usually found it quite peaceful to travel through the night like this—the faster I moved between the shadows, the more they seemed to pull me into their depths, until the action became less like running and more like flying.
But a few hours into our journey, I began to sense nerves and tension radiating from Willow, who ran ahead of me. With too much time to think, her worries were taking over, and I could feel her spiraling.
She and Malcolm have that in common. They both get too lost in their own heads. I hope someday they can draw each other out.
Jerrett slowed our pace as we neared his car. When we reached it, we piled inside, Jerrett in the driver’s seat, and Willow and me in the back. As soon as the doors closed, the tension inside the car seemed to build like a pressurized cabin. My brother pulled onto the highway heading south, and we drove in silence for ten minutes before Willow exploded.
“Why did he just leave?” The words burst out of her like they’d been trapped in her soul for days.
Jerrett sighed. “It’s complicated, Will. Malcolm is—”
“Is what? What excuse does he have?” she ranted. “I saved his life. He saved mine. Or at least, he spared mine—which, considering what I made him do, is pretty much the same thing—and then he just disappeared. Why?”
Silence filled the car.
I was angry at Malcolm too, which made it hard to defend his actions to her. But she didn’t know what Jerrett and I knew. Maybe if she did, she’d understand.
“We need to tell her, Jerrett,” I said softly.
“What? No! That’s not our secret to tell!” The car jerked slightly as Jerrett looked back at me.
“Malcolm may never tell her. He’ll let the shame eat him alive from the inside out instead. And she needs to know. She can’t forgive him unless she knows.”
Willow pulled her legs up onto the seat, tucking them under her as she turned to face me. “What are you talking about? Forgive him for what? What do I need to know?”
I could feel her curiosity burning like an ember. She wanted to understand Malcolm. She wanted to forgive him. And that stubborn jackass would never give her a reason.
“Malcolm hasn’t drunk anything but animal blood or bagged blood for years. In solidarity, Jerrett and I have done the same,” I began, and Willow nodded along with my words. She knew this part already.
Jerrett gave a grunt from the front seat, but he didn’t object again. I knew he would have if he thought I was truly betraying Malcolm, so I accepted his tacit approval and continued speaking.
“The last person he drank from was a woman named Ariana Warren. She was a human who was brought into Carrick’s court after her family died. This was over a hundred years ago, during a period when more humans were aware of, and believed in, the existence of vampires. Small towns would sometimes offer up volunteers in exchange for protection, humans who would willingly live with us in the Penumbra.”
“A hundred years ago?” Willow twisted her hair between her fingers. “I never read about that in the history books.”
“Yeah, well, it wasn’t like our existence was common knowledge.” Jerrett snorted. “People from those small towns wouldn’t admit to outsiders that they knew about us. They’d have been branded witches or infidels and burned at the stake.”
“Oh. Right.”
“I was a newly turned vampire, only about twenty years past my transformation at the time. Malcolm, Jerrett, and I were already closer than brothers. We would often escape the castle for several days, hunting deer and other animals. Malcolm had always struggled with his vampirism. It wasn’t something he ever wanted.”
“You know by now that Carrick was the one who turned him,” Jerrett added. “Mal never really forgave him for it.”
“I don’t blame him.” Willow’s voice was sad. She scooted closer to me on the seat, and her warm cherry-almond scent tickled my nose. “It wasn’t something I thought I wanted either.”
“Believe me, Will, Mal didn’t want to turn you. It’s probably still on the list of things he beats himself up for daily.”
Willow’s head snapped toward the front seat. “But I want it now! I’ve told him that. I don’t blame him!”
“I know.” I rested a hand on her knee, squeezing gently.
“So what does that woman, Ariana, have to do with this?” she pressed, a note of unease in her tone.
“Malcolm fell in love with her,” I said simply. “Before Carrick turned him, all Malcolm wanted was to start a family and build a simple life for himself. He never really let go of that dream. It made his father furious.”
“Why?”
“Shortly after he turned Malcolm, Carrick challenged the old vampire king and won. I think he had grand ambitions of the two of them ruling together, creating an empire. But Malcolm wanted no part of that. He didn’t want to be a vampire prince, much less a king one day. He didn’t revel in his supernatural power like Carrick did.”
“So he fell in love with a human?”
“Yep. And you can imagine how fucking well Carrick took that,” Jerrett confirmed, his tone hard.
“Oh.” Willow’s voice was small and quiet.
I knew it must be difficult for her to hear about Malcolm with another woman. I was fairly certain none of us had ever loved anyone the way we loved Willow, but I’d leave that admission to my brother. Malcolm would have to tell her that part himself.
“Did Carrick… kill her?”
Jerrett made an angry sound in the front seat, and the car jerked again. I took a breath, turning my gaze toward Willow.
“No. Malcolm did.”
“What?”
I could feel her shock and horror like a blast of icy wind, and I braced myself against it.
“Carrick tricked him. Malcolm had forbidden anyone to feed from Ariana—not even he would do it. He wanted to have a normal life with her, as human a life as possible. But he craved her blood. Craved it even more because he loved her.”
I hesitated, memories of that awful night flashing through my mind. Carrick’s sharp laughter. Malcolm’s harsh, heaving sobs. The smell of Ariana’s blood.
“Carrick got Malcolm very drunk at a feast one night. We don’t respond to alcohol the same way humans do, but enough of it in a short amount of time will have a similar effect. It starts to break down our barriers.”
“Yeah, and the slimy motherfucker had been working on Ariana for weeks. Telling her that if Ma
lcolm truly loved her, he would feed from her. Enticing her with how good it would feel, the bond it would forge between them,” Jerrett snarled, and Willow let out a soft gasp.
“What you saw at the feast Carrick threw in your honor was tame, Willow tree,” I went on. “The night of Ariana’s death, a blood orgy was raging all around them. Malcolm was drunk, and Ariana begged him to feed from her. He gave in, and he lost himself. Bloodlust took over.”
“He killed her.” Willow spoke on a whisper.
“Yes.”
“Just like he almost killed me.”
“Yes.”
“After that, we left the Penumbra. We’ve barely been back since,” Jerrett finished. “And none of us have fed from a human since then.”
Silence fell in the car again as Willow processed everything she’d just learned.
“Why didn’t he tell me?” she murmured at last.
“He’s ashamed, Will. He’s convinced he’s a monster deep down, and he hates himself for it. He never forgave himself for what he did, and now, with you…” My brother trailed off.
A warm, wet drop fell on my hand, still resting on Willow’s knee. A tear.
“I… didn’t know. I never meant to make him relive that.” Her voice was choked with emotion, but it gained strength as she spoke. “But it doesn’t change anything. Even if I had known, I still would’ve let him feed from me. He was dying.”
I cupped her cheek, feeling fresh tears spill over my thumb even as I wiped the old ones away. She grabbed my hand, squeezing it hard. Her voice held a note of challenge when she spoke next.
“And it’s not the same. Ariana was tricked by Carrick. He used her to hurt Malcolm. But I did know. Maybe not about Malcolm’s past, but I knew what my fae blood would do to him—that he might not be able to stop. I went into it with my eyes wide open. I chose to let him feed from me. And I’m not. Fucking. Sorry.”
