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Haven might seem irresistible, but I’m nothing if not defiant of any who attempt to bind me. I was for my father—though the old bastard won in the end—and I will be for this woman too.
I glance to the hearth and the candelabra that acts as a secret latch to the door of our inner sanctum. The Gods are cruel if they think her beauty will make me accept her and welcome her into the coven with open arms. If they wanted that, then they should have heard our pleas when we begged them for help as children.
Instead, we remained ignored. How dare they bless the coven with a priestess now.
I turn back to Haven as Reyes cups his hand over her shoulder and drops the bomb that’s been hovering over all of us like the sword of Damocles. Good, he’s better at kindness than I am. He’ll explain in better detail than I ever possibly could.
“Haven’t you figured it out yet?” Reyes chuckles lightly even as he strokes his fingers back and forth over her hand. “We are exactly what people think we are, Haven. We are the Sons of Salem, and we are the descendants of the witches that were killed in this place centuries past. The ability to repel spirits and specters alike is only one of the many powers we possess. The powers that you possess too.”
“What?” Haven stares at Reyes as if the man has grown a second head. Lyall turns his cheek and reaches up as if to scratch his jaw when really I know the motherfucker is hiding a laugh. Cameron sighs.
“You’re the same as us,” Reyes repeats, all laughter gone from his face as he gazes back at her solemnly. My chest constricts with a vicious twist, an ugly creature sinking its poison-tipped claws into my insides and tearing. I turn and walk away, needing to be as far from them as possible even if I can’t leave the room before he says the words. I don’t make it two steps.
“You are a witch, Haven, and you belong to our coven.”
CHAPTER 19HAVEN
I shoot to my feet like someone has lit a match under my skin. “Is this a practical joke?”
Reyes frowns and tilts his head. “No, of course not.”
I inhale, tamping down the anger slowly rising as well as the indignation. “So … you’re trying to tell me that you’re all … what? Warlocks?”
Cameron opens his mouth, probably to play mediator again, but Ezra speaks first. His voice is low, deliberate, the kind that slides along your spine and makes every nerve pay attention.
“We’re not warlocks.” He bites out the words, turning back to the room with a defined scowl. The reflection of the flames in the fireplace dance in his too-dark eyes as if daring me to defy him. “Warlocks bargain for their power. We were born with ours.”
Well, la-di-fucking-da.
My shoulders lock tight. He says it like it’s supposed to mean something, like it’s a gift. Dread bubbles in my stomach like bad takeout.
“We’re witches,” Reyes tells me again, and I wish he’d stop saying it. “And so are you.”
My laugh is brittle. “No, what you are is insane.” I glare from Reyes to Ezra. How can he stand there like nothing shakes him? His face is imperceptible and hard. Not monsters. Not magic. Not even me. “And you’re not fucking funny.”
“This isn’t a prank.” Reyes claims my attention as he reaches out and snags my hand. “Wasn’t Cameron right about what he told you? The dreams you have, the nightmares, the monsters—”
I yank my hand from his grip and spear it through my hair. “Those are just dreams,” I insist.
“And the specter in the woods?” The question is a low, taunting query from Ezra.
“It—it was probably an illusion.” My fingers dig into my scalp. “Yeah, that’s all it was. A projection or something. You—” I whirl on him again, jabbing a finger into the space between us. “You tricked me!”
“I didn’t.”
“Prove it!”
The words snap like a whip, louder than I mean, harsher than I want—but there’s no taking it back now.
The room goes still. No one moves. Ezra tilts his head slowly, his movements all restrained heat and predator smoothness.
“You want us to prove it?” His voice is quiet now, almost gentle. Somehow, it’s worse than if he were to yell at me.
I swallow hard, but I’ve already thrown the gauntlet down, and there’s no backing out now. “Yes,” I say. “Prove it.”
His stare drags across my face, like he’s memorizing every sharp edge, debating on the best way to sneak behind my defenses. “Fine.” He nods once, then looks to the side. “Lyall?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” comes a smug voice from behind me.
