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“You realize calling me a witch is not an insult, don’t you?” Willow taunts.
Grandmother sets her sights squarely on Willow but speaks to me. “Azrael,” she starts in that calm, quiet way she has. It is the very same tone that she used just before she administered her punishments when we were younger. “You should teach your wife some manners. Keep in mind you would not be the first Penitent to take a second Wildblood when the chosen one refuses to heel.”
Ah. There it is. She knows Willow’s Achilles’ heel, just as she knows mine.
Willow’s hands fist but before she can speak, there’s another sound. “I don’t feel well,” comes a small voice from behind Willow.
We all turn to find Rébecca has gone pale as a ghost. I rush to her and crouch down to hug her just as Emmanuel enters.
“There you all are. I’m starv… Bec?” He rushes toward us as Grandmother, her head held high, walks out of the library with her long black skirt whipping around her.
“I’m sorry,” Rébecca says, burying her face in my shoulder. “I found Willow outside and she was lost.”
“Was she?” I ask, glancing up at my wife.
“It’s not your fault, sweetheart,” Willow says, quickly averting her gaze from mine and setting a hand on Rébecca’s shoulder.
I glare at her and what she sees in my eyes has her pulling her hand away. “Emmanuel, take Bec to get dinner. We’ll join you shortly.” I straighten up and wrap a hand around the back of my wife’s neck. “Once I’ve had a word with my wife.”
Emmanuel glances between us, and one corner of his mouth curves upward as he leads our sister out of the library and closes the door behind them.
15
WILLOW
The door to the library closes with a sound of finality, sealing me inside the space with my new husband—a husband who’s currently glaring at me as if he can’t decide whether to throttle me or fuck me.
He steps closer, wrapping his fingers around the tender flesh of my neck as he forces my head back to bear the full brunt of his smoldering gaze.
“What do you think you’re playing at with Rébecca?” His voice is calm, but there’s an undercurrent of rage that slightly terrifies me.
I know that beneath the veil of his anger is fierce protectiveness of his sister, and right now, he sees me as a threat. I can only imagine how he’ll feel once he realizes I’ve given her a necklace for protection. He’ll probably believe I cursed the thing.
“I’m not playing at anything,” I bite back. “She enjoys spending time in my company, and I enjoy spending time in hers.”
His fingertips press deeper into my throat, and my heartbeat quickens as I consider how easily he could end me right now. “She isn’t part of your game,” Azrael growls. “I won’t fucking tolerate you toying with her.”
His words light a fire beneath my skin, and while it might not be wise, I can’t help the vitriol that spews from my own lips. “But you’ll tolerate her living in fear of Salomé?”
His eyes flash, his grip tightening even further. “You know nothing of our family.”
“I know what’s right in front of me,” I hiss. “How blind must you be not to have noticed that girl lives in abject terror of the woman?”
Azrael’s breathing accelerates, a storm raging in his eyes as he uses his grip on my throat to slam me back against the bookcases, rattling the contents behind me. “You know nothing,” he echoes, his voice betraying an edge of rawness.
I’ve hit a nerve, and now he’s manhandling me to prove his point. But I won’t back down, regardless of how much it pains him to hear the truth.
“You’ll stay away from her,” he orders.
At this, I can’t help the caustic laugh that bursts free. “What are you so afraid of, Azrael? That she might be influenced by the filthy witch? As if I could be any worse than your bloodthirsty lineage. How do you think she’d feel if she knew the truth about the violence that lives inside of you?”
He flinches unexpectedly at the insult, and his grip on me falls away, allowing me an unobstructed breath. When he notices the indentations on my skin from his fingers, it only seems to add salt to the wound.
I learn something about him at that moment: he doesn’t want to be a monster, but he was born one all the same, merely for being a Delacroix. As much as I want to believe in the power of our free will, I don’t know that the beast inside him can be slayed. I’ve only seen a glimpse of it, but that darkness haunts him. It may be dormant right now, but it won’t be long before it makes another reappearance.
“Shut your mouth.”
