Page 108 of Reckless Witch

That surprises me. I wait.

“He hasn’t forgiven her for putting the knife through his heart forty years ago.”

That should surprise me but doesn’t. “Vampires rarely forgive.”

Ethan looks sharply at me. “You don’t believe she betrayed him?”

I slow as we near the trees and Ethan follows suit. “It was bound to happen,” I say. “Raith incites a desire in others to put him in his place.”

“She would never betray any of us.”

“She isn’t the same person every lifetime,” I say. “Yet, she always loves us.” My heart swells with anticipation of seeing her. Even angry, Ciarah is magnificent.

“Still, we —” Ethan begins.

“You’re not naïve,” I cut in. “She hasn’t been a sweet lamb every incarnation.” I snort. “She has never been a sweet lamb—and, in truth, she was more reckless in her last incarnation than she’d been in centuries.” I smile. “But then, her parents were Greek and Spanish. A volatile combination.”

“I had no idea you felt this way,” Ethan says.

I look at him. “What way? That I see her for who she is? That doesn’t stop me from loving her.”

“Her volatility doesn’t mean she betrayed Raith.”

I shrug. “She stabbed him and left him for dead.”

“Vampires are nearly impossible to kill,” Ethan says.

We enter the trees and I veer right instead of staying on the pathway. Ethan shoots me a curious look.

“If Cordero had found Raith, he would have separated Raith from his head,” I say

Ethan shakes his head. “There has to be something we don’t know.”

“Raith made his own bed,” I reply. “Half the bloody time I want to kill him. We have never been able to control Ciarah. Raith goaded her by forbidding her to see Cordero.”

“She doesn’t deserve to be punished in this life,” Ethan growls.

I laugh. “You think you can control Raith any easier than he can control her?”

“He’s never been like this,” Ethan says.

He’s right. “Raith must work through his anger.”

Ethan turns his intense green eyes on me. “You’ll stand by and let him hurt her?”

I blurt a dark laugh. “Raith is powerful, but no vampire has ever controlled magic like the witches.”

“Magic can’t save a witch from everything,” he says, and I know he’s remembering the damn spear.

I shudder at a flash memory of Leilah lying on Raith’s couch, the cushion and her shirt soaked with blood, and Raith drinking from the wound.

“She didn’t have her magic when the spear wounded her,” I murmur. “She does now—and that bloody familiar. The animal is worth an army of bodyguards. And she has us.”

Already, I sense the magic of the pact invading my system—even my dreams. That is unexpected. Ethan makes no reply and I would wager he’s feeling the connection, as well. grimace. The last thing I want is to be closer to the vampire. How is it possible for the blood pact to be drawing Ethan, Raith, and I closer? We made no blood promises to one another, only to Leilah.

“We should have insisted she stay in her room during the games,” Ethan says.

I snort. “Because that’s worked so well for us in the past?”