First, and always, at her naked, exquisite body. Then, once she mutters beneath her breath—a revealing spell, I expect—I see it.
Across her lower back, curling up and around her spine and disappearing beneath her hair. It’s a pattern of sigils burned into her skin, faded, yet still faintly glowing like embers under her flesh. Ancient runes. Binding magic of the highest order.
I recognize some of the words:vow, silence, sacrifice.
“They sealed me in,” she murmurs. “A spell of stillness and sleep. My body was preserved and my magic was drained to keep the veil intact. I slept and dreamed but I only half-woke when the wards weakened. The seal needs seven witches to strengthen it every seven years but two elders of the coven perished in the last six months and they haven’t found powerful enough replacements.”
I reach out, trace a finger along one of the sigils before I can stop myself. Her skin is cool, smooth, and when she shivers, I feel the tremor in my bones.
“What freed you?”
Then she looks over her shoulder, her gaze meeting mine. “You did.”
My head jerks up. “Me?”
“Would you know anything about the death of two witches in New Orleans recently?”
I shrug. “I told you, sweet witch, every corpse beneath my feet deserved it.”
“Well, the night you destroyed two powerful witches, the circle grew weaker than it’s ever been in centuries. Their spell won’t remain weak for very long. But when it faded enough to wake me properly…” She swallows. “I did a blood location spell. I didn’t know if it would work because I didn’t know if you were alive or dead. But… I followed when it led me here. To you.”
My mind reels. Every act of vengeance I committed—all of it—was the reason she’s standing here now. My hatred resurrected the woman it was born from.
The irony cuts so deep I almost laugh.
Instead, I step back, letting her shirt fall. “So, you were my punishmentandmy salvation.”
She nods. “Seems the gods have a sense of humor.”
I pour another glass of blood and drain it in one swallow. “And what do you expect me to do with this truth, Elara? Fall to my knees in gratitude? Pretend over two centuries of hell never happened?”
“No,” she says softly. “I expect you to decide if you still love me enough to have choose to forgive me for saving you.”
The words hang between us, sharp and impossible.
Love.
That old, unkillable thing.
I can’t answer her. Not yet.
Instead, I cross to the window and stare down at the city. The morning mist rolls in from the river, softening everything—statues, rooftops, even the gravest sin.
“I can’t lose you again,” I say finally, without turning.
“The coven won’t kill me. They need me. And for as long as I have breath, you won’t lose me.”
It’s too roundabout of a promise. And I’ve gambled long enough not to trust it. “Don’t promise what you can’t keep.”
“I never have.” Her voice trembles slightly, but the steel beneath it remains. She turns to leave, then pauses at the doorway. “There’s more you need to know. About the nunnery. About what’s coming.”
“What’s coming?”
Her eyes darken. “They know I’m free and they’ll come for me. They’ll come for you, too. The coven that made the spell wasn’t destroyed, Lucien, only the chapter you burned.”
A chill moves through me.
“Let them come,” I say, quiet but lethal. “I’ve never hidden from them. I’m not starting now. And this time I will destroy every last one of them.”
