Page 9 of Bloodween

“In the boonies,” he answered. “About forty minutes from Marlowe.”

Perfect. Just freaking perfect.

“What are you wearing?” he asked suddenly, rubbing at his nose.

“Ren’s perfume. She sprayed me down.” And now I knew why. “I guess so that your wolf couldn’t sense me.”

“When I—you know⁠—”

“Kidnapped me. You can say it.”

He sucked his teeth. “Yeah that. When I did that, I noticed you smelled off but yet the same.” His biceps twitched. “But I’d been drinking so I wasn’t really paying attention because why the fuck would y’all switch costumes?”

“Valid point.”

“But now, I don’t smell her. Only you and...” He let the words die in his throat.

I didn’t press him to continue, instead I wiggled my body. “Are you gonna free me or not?”

He laughed. “You can’t get yourself out?”

“I can, but I thought you’d be a gentleman and let me out. You did put me in them against my will.”

He smirked as he walked towards me. The silence of the cabin was interrupted by the crackling fire. I looked at the fireplace, catching the time on the analog clock above it: 1:42 a.m.

Nine hours and forty-seven minutes left.

As he kneeled in front of me, the elixir churned in my stomach, needy and hungry. It pulled towards him, recognizing what he was.

Prey.

the seduction

"ONE THING ABOUT MEN, THEY WILL FOLD."

I’d been waiting eight years for this day—seven of them spent hunting for the perfect prey. And for the past fifteen months, I thought that prey was Renna.

She was what my coven would consider a perfect Bloodween sacrifice.

Not only was she a werewolf I knew—a basic requirement—but she also was my best friend.

We’d been friends since college and best friends for the last two and a half years. Though I’d really put in work to hone the friendship once I realized last year that she’d been turned.

She trusted me completely, and that trust would’ve made her sacrifice potent. Would’ve guaranteed the ritual took. Would’ve given me enough power to skip straight past the Lesser Crimson and land where I belonged, with the Bloodborn.

The Bloodween ritual didn’t work on strangers. It required betrayal—real, raw, intimate betrayal. The kind that came from trust. From friendship. From love.

I had no intention of falling for a werewolf, but close friendships I could do. The closer the relationship, the greater the power gain. The higher the success rate.

And I refused to be the witch who failed. That’s why I took my time and waited for a Bloodween I could be part of.

As a Crimson Witch, Bloodween could be one of the most important days of your life. It only happened every three years, and only three witches could participate.

Three Bound Witches.

Bound Witches were Crimson Witches who were descendants of the Blood Coven’s bloodline.

A bloodline with dormant vampire genes.