BLOOD OATH

A PARANORMAL REVERSE
HAREM ROMANCE
CURSED LEGACIES
BOOK 1

MORGAN B LEE

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Copyright © 2024 by Morgan B Lee
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 CONTENTS
Read Before You Read
1. Maven
2. Maven
3. Maven
4. Baelfire
5. Maven
6. Maven
7. Silas
8. Maven
9. Maven
10. Crypt
11. Maven
12. Silas
13. Maven
14. Maven
15. Baelfire
16. Maven
17. Everett
18. Maven
19. Maven
20. Silas
21. Crypt
22. Maven
23. Maven
24. Crypt
25. Maven
26. Maven
27. Maven
28. Everett
29. Maven
30. Maven
31. Crypt
About the Author

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This series is for all the ladies who think STFUATTDLAGG is great…
but BAGBALTPTICOYF is better.

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 READ BEFORE YOU READ

This series is a dark academy paranormal why-choose/reverse harem

romance, meaning the leading lady ends up with more than one fated mate.
It gets spicy and kinky, but starts off slow. Mind the cliff.
Series trigger checklist:

attempted SA of main character (brief and the perpetrator is quickly

unalived)
BDSM
death (on page)
death of main character (don’t worry, it doesn’t stick)
strong language
female dominant/switch
group sex scenes (no M/M)
graphic violence
loss of a loved one (past tense)
 mentions of childhood abuse
PTSD
somnophilia (with prior consent given)
stalking (of FMC by MMC)
torture

Never fear, this series will have an HEA. Enjoy, lovelies <3

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 1

MAVEN

L epidoptery is a beautifully morbid hobby .

I come to this conclusion after several minutes of staring at the
extensive collection of gossamer butterfly wings pinned to the wall behind
the faculty member’s desk. He’s been making one-sided small talk the
entire time, unaware of my growing appreciation for impaling insect
corpses up in such a macabre display.
He laughs at one of his own jokes and raises his bushy eyebrows at me
expectantly. When I offer no change in expression, he clears his throat,
tapping one finger against a file resting on the mahogany desk in front of
him.
“Well, now that introductions are out of the way, I suppose we should
get down to business. Welcome to Everbound University, Miss Oakley. I’ve
read all your student records, and it seems you are what we would call an
atypical caster—the magic in your blood manifested of its own accord
despite your completely human pedigree. There aren’t many atypical
casters, so I’m sure this world is probably all a bit overwhelming for you,”
he smiles apologetically.
You have absolutely no fucking idea.
He goes on, opening my file. “It says here that after you manifested
your magic a week ago, you immediately turned yourself in to the proper
authorities. As required by law, they, in turn, registered you to attend this
semester, although we only have a month left. Turning yourself in must
have been difficult, but you should be proud. I’m sure that if you work hard
and watch your back, you will thrive here at Everbound University.”
His smile is sickeningly optimistic.
My attention drifts back to the dead bugs on the wall. “The headmaster.
Where is he?”
That catches him by surprise. “Professor Hearst? I’m not sure how
much you know about the world of legacies, Miss Oakley, but I’m sure
even the humans teach about the Immortal Quintet in their schools. They’re
an integral part of history between humans and legacies, and they put the
Divide in place to protect the mortal world. Professor Hearst is a member of
that vital quintet and, as such, had some important business to attend to that
required him to leave Everbound. Until further notice, I am the interim
headmaster—Mr. Gibbons, at your service.”
Damn it.
As usual, I refuse to let emotion of any kind show on my face as I look
out the window of the ornate office. He’s right about one thing: this
atmosphere is entirely foreign to me. Two stories below us, stone courtyards
illuminated in bright winter morning light give way to the expansive
training fields on this side of Everbound Castle.
Because of course legacies are mandated to study in a godsdamned
castle.
It’s fitting—a bunch of descendants of monsters housed in a gothic
behemoth surrounded by thick forest, miles away from the nearest human
civilization. Every inch of this place radiates prestige with an undertone of
danger, like a rose perched at the tip of a bloodied knife.
On second thought, maybe I will enjoy this place after all.
Mr. Gibbons clears his throat. “You’ve undoubtedly heard the rumors
about how dangerous Everbound University is. I’m afraid those rumors are
true. We are preparing legacies to become weapons to protect the mortal
world, and while we try to enforce a no-killing rule for unmatched legacies,
sometimes they do get carried away, and…” He shrugs uncomfortably. “At
any rate, we send out emergency notifications in the event of a student’s
severe injury or untimely death. Who should I list as your emergency
contact?”
“Leave it blank.”
“Are you certain?”
I meet his gaze. “Depends. Are you a necromancer?”
 He rears back, almost choking. “Of course not!”
“Then I’m certain.”
“Good gods,” he huffs. “Why would you even ask such a thing?”
It’s amusing how scandalized he is that I even dared bring up
necromancy. He rearranges the two papers in my file several times before
rising from his chair with a haughty sniff.
“Miss Oakley, the Nether and all things pertaining to it are not to be
spoken of lightly. It is a parasitic hellhole full of the worst horrors
imaginable, and the only things keeping it from gaining a foothold in this
world are the Divide and the blood, sweat, and sacrifice of us legacies. Only
mere weeks ago, a surge of shadow fiends escaped and slaughtered
hundreds of innocent humans in a small town in Maine. Just think of that
before talking about the creatures there with such levity again.”
Touchy subject.
I study the office around me once again, memorizing the setup. The
other faculty offices likely have a similar layout, so it’s valuable
information.
“Is that the reason Headmaster Hearst left?”
Mr. Gibbons shakes his head as he puts my file away, withdrawing an
envelope that appears to be overfilled with my student ID, introductory
papers, and a key.
“That’s not our business, but I’m sure he’ll be back by the end of the
semester for First Placement in about a month.”
One month here. I can do that.
“Now, then, about your dorm room. You’ll be rooming with a lion
shifter in the upper northeast wing. She’ll be⁠—“
“I requested a private dorm.”
“They’re all occupied at the moment. But that shouldn’t inconvenience
you much, considering that the Seeking is in two weeks. At that time, so
many legacies will be moving to the quintet apartments that I’m sure
something will open up for you by then.” Then he tips his head. “Do you
know what the Seeking is?”
Right. The Seeking. When the gods reveal which quintet a legacy is
meant to belong with.
In other words, total bullshit.
I opt to ignore the question entirely, since I couldn’t care less about their
precious Seeking. If everything goes smoothly, I’ll be done with Everbound
quickly.
“I’ll pay extra for any private room.”
He sighs heavily. “Legacies may be in the minority compared to
humans, Miss Oakley, but there are still enough attending this semester that
we truly are out of private spaces. I’m afraid you’re quite stuck with this
roommate for the time being—and the no-killing rule is especially strict
about roommates. So play nice.”
Make me.
I learned long ago, in the most brutal ways possible, that playing nice
with others is an excellent way to get killed. I would very literally rather
spend the next two weeks enduring Chinese water torture than chumming it
up with someone here, but telling that to him is of little use.
If I want my own space, I’ll just have to drive this new roommate of
mine away. It’s just a matter of getting creative.
“Fine. Are we done?” I ask, standing.
He stands, too, but looks over my baggy clothing and leather-gloved
hands with a wary expression.
“Before you leave, you should know how precarious your first few
weeks here will likely be. I cannot stress enough just how different our
world is from the human one you were raised in. Legacies are extremely
competitive, Miss Oakley—especially after quintets rankings begin after the
Seeking since that is when the no-killing rule is lifted. Here, it truly is
survival of the fittest—or rather, the most powerful. We are descended from
monsters, so you could say a thirst for bloodshed comes with the territory.
So if one’s magic is on the weaker side, as it tends to be with atypical
casters like you…”
Gibbons pauses, scratching one bushy brow. “Well, the highest-ranked
legacies here will probably overlook you completely since they won’t
perceive you as a threat. But the less powerful ones will see you as someone
to best in order to secure their social standing. Just remember that legacies
are far more monstrous than humans often realize. You will need to watch
your back at all times, as we faculty members will not be able to protect
you.”
“Forced to come here. Unlikely to survive. Got it.”
I grab the overstuffed envelope from his desk and leave the room
without another word, ignoring how he calls out a final good luck after me.
His office and several other faculty offices are in a small hallway branching
off the massive entry hall of Everbound Castle. This entire place is a gothic
maze, but I start in the general direction of the upper northeast wing, where
he said my dorm would be.
The halls aren’t crowded since most legacies are in their classes, but
there are still clusters of students here or there. I pass a couple of vampires
sitting on a stone bench, latched onto one another’s necks as they moan and
feed. Sirens with silky voices are giggling and gossiping in a group as they
pass. They pay me no heed—no one does, because I keep my head down
and slip through the crowd at just the right speed to blend in perfectly.
Finally, I turn down an empty corridor. All along the right is a row of
tall vaulted windows overlooking Everbound Forest.
But I only make it a few steps before a door directly to my left bursts
open, and a trio of completely naked people tumble out onto the floor.
There’s one girl—a fae, judging by her pointed ears and luminescent purple
hair—and two guys, one of whom has blood oozing down the side of his
neck from two puncture marks. He doesn’t seem concerned about it staining
the untied robe hanging around his shoulders.
The other man laughs uproariously, stands, brushes himself off, and
returns to the dorm room…
Which is full of a raging orgy.
Choruses of moans and gasps fill the space. A handful of legacies down
alcohol off to one side of the sensually lit room. Everyone present is nude
and completely uninhibited. Near the doorway, a vampire sinks his teeth
into the neck of what appears to be a succubus. She moans and bounces
faster on the lap of another man.
It’s all a blur of tangled limbs, kissing, fucking, and…
Touching.
My breathing doesn’t feel steady, and that all-too-familiar prickle
courses over my skin, my neck breaking out into a cold sweat.
“You new here, sweetheart?”
That draws my attention back to the guy with the bleeding neck
standing in front of me. The fae girl has already rejoined the others, and
when she shuts the door behind her, it leaves me alone in the hall with him.
He doesn’t bother tying his robe, and he’s eyeing me with a carnal gleam in
his eye, even though my clothes completely obscure what my body looks
like.
“Very,” I reply. “Excuse me.”
 I try to step around him, but he blocks my path with a wide smile. Two
colors of lipstick are smeared around his mouth, down his chest, and all
over his junk. From the way he’s eyeing me, it’s not hard to tell he’s sizing
me up to get a feel for how strong or weak of a legacy I am. I suppose the
interim headmaster was right about needing to watch my back right off the
bat.
“Not so fast. Why’re you here so late in the semester? You an
asscaster?” When I say nothing, he grins. “That’s what we call atypical
casters. Because their magic is total ass.”
Again, I try to sidestep him. Again, he gets in the way.
“Whoa there. You need a crash course, sweetie. Wanna join us? Collin’s
orgies are always the best. Or if you’re not into group scenes, I’m more than
ready to give you the best one-on-one welcome you could possibly ask for.”
I look pointedly down at his flaccid, lipstick-and-sex-juice-covered
dick. “Hard pass. Besides, your little soldier obviously didn’t get the more-
than-ready memo.”
I finally manage to step around him, assuming he’ll give up on
harassing me and return to the mosh pit of sex. Instead, he keeps pace with
me, eyeing the area where my sweatshirt obscures my chest as he licks his
lips.
“This prissy, robotic virgin thing you’ve got going? Yeah, you’re an
asscaster, all right. But I’ve got a knack for guessing people’s undiscovered
kinks, and I get the feeling that once I peel all those stuffy layers off of you,
you’ll be my sweet little submissive cocksucker just begging for dick.”
Gag me with a knife.
I’m not going to waste more time with this prick by going into all the
many ways he’s dead wrong. “Not interested.”
I turn again and begin ascending a half-hidden narrow staircase toward
the second floor, but in a blur, the idiot is standing a few stairs up from me,
so now his disgusting, still-wet cock is at eye level. He leers down.
“Didn’t ask if you were. See, you’ve got me curious, and I hate being
curious. I can tell just by looking you’re a one-fuck cunt, so I’ll leave you
alone afterward. Come on, give it a taste. You’ll love it.”
That’s it. My patience has officially run out.
I look him in the eye and speak clearly so his single functioning brain
cell will understand. “You don’t want to test me. Move.”
 He throws his head back on a sharp laugh. “Poor thing, do you actually
think you could handle me? I’m a vampire. You’re basically a human. The
least powerful legacy of all time is still a hundred times more threatening
than an asscaster. Go on, give it your best shot. I wanna see you snap.”
Trust me, you don’t.
He slowly descends the stairs, his appetite shifting from my body to the
side of my neck. “Maybe I’ll cut you a deal, New Girl. Suck me off without
fighting, and I’ll only drink a pint. Keep playing hard to get, and it’ll be
your fault when I drain you dry.”
I want to roll my eyes at how deluded this guy is, but then he reaches
down to cup my jaw, his other hand slipping behind me to squeeze my ass.
Time jolts, sending my stomach careening. For one fraction of a second
after my body registers his touch on my face, my limbs go numb, and I
can’t breathe. The drag of his unwanted bare skin against mine is like a
scalding razor running across a frayed nerve, raw and unbearable.
I snap.
Instincts kick in hard and fast, my body going into auto drive as I knock
his arm to one side while pulling my favorite small dagger from one of my
concealed sleeve pockets. By the time the vamp even realizes I’ve moved,
the dagger is already jammed up between his ribs, twisting into his heart
deep enough that the tips of my fingers sink into the new hole in his chest
that’s already gushing blood.
Good thing my gloves are black, so the stain won’t show.
He gasps and staggers into the wall as every vein in his body bulges
through his quickly blackening skin. It’s an agonizing sensation. I would
know.
“Th—this isn’t an oak stake,” he chokes, desperately trying to claw the
dagger out. Unfortunately for him, he only has about ten seconds left before
his vampire strength is sapped away with the remainder of his life force.
“W—what is⁠—“
“Adamantine. With some very fun tweaks.”
I wrench the dagger out, and he cries out in pain, slumping to the floor.
As he starts to spasm uncontrollably, I use his bathrobe to wipe off my
blade, giving him a bored look that belies the residual panic pumping
through my system from his touch.
“Congratulations. You got to see me snap.”
The vampire’s eyes widen just before he goes utterly still.
 My veins fill with a familiar buzz. For the first time since arriving here,
the corners of my lips curl up slowly. Slipping the dagger back into its
hidden pocket in my sleeve, I continue up the stairs.
These legacies don’t have to worry about me not being monstrous
enough for this place.
They have no idea what they just let in.

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 2

MAVEN

T he moment I enter my new dorm, a shrill squeal assaults my eardrums.

“Oh my gods! You’re here!”
A tall legacy jumps up from the pillow-filled bed on the right side of the
dorm, dressed in a fuzzy blue crop top sweater and shiny yoga pants. My
attention immediately goes to her hair. Light as straw and naturally as curly
as corkscrews, it creates a pale halo around her head.
It looks exactly like Lillian’s hair.
She beams at me and holds out her hand to shake. “I’m Kenzie. Lion
shifter. Artist. Slut extraordinaire. I’m kidding about that last one—I’m just
a normal slut. In a good way. Damn, is your hair naturally that dark? It’s so
pretty! What House are you in? What’s your name?”
I glance down at her hand, sliding my own into my pockets. “Maven.”
“Nice to meet ya, Maven. Can I call you May? I’m gonna call you May.
Did you just get here? Where are your things?” She glances into the
hallway behind me with a frown.
“I pack light.” As in, everything I currently own is on my person.
“Well, then, it’s a good thing I’m a terrible student because I’m so down
to play hooky the rest of the day so we can go buy you all the essentials. We
could hit up one of the university stores here, but honestly, the drive to
Halfton is so worth it because they have the most darling little boutique
there, and we could get some boba tea⁠—”
Gods. Does she even breathe between words?
 Tuning her out, I walk past her to observe the undecorated left side of
the room which is now mine. It’s small, just one twin bed with a desk at the
foot of it and a dresser under the window. It’s soothingly bare and simple,
especially compared to Kenzie’s very busy, very artsy side of the room.
When she sees me eyeballing one of the many erotic paintings on
display where two abstract women are literally melting together, she
practically preens. “Yep, I’m helplessly raunchy. I’m usually inspired to
paint after a very memorable sexual experience.”
“That’s a lot of paintings.”
“Did I not make the slut thing clear? I’m very open about it.”
“Most legacies seem to be,” I muse, thinking of the orgy I’d passed.
She tips her head, curls falling to the side. “Compared to what?
Humans?” Then she gasps hard. “Oh! Did you grow up around humans?
What was that like? I think they’re so fascinating, but obviously, my moms
and dads were against me having human friends growing up. I mean, us
legacies are all supposed to keep to our own kind until we’re graduated,
bonded, and considered legal in the eyes of the human government, blah
blah blah.”
She waves off all the legality talk and grins. “But I know some legacy
families are a lot friendlier with humans anyway! Is that how you grew up?
What are your parents like?”
“Dead.”
That shuts her up. Her face falls. “Oh. I—I’m sorry. I put my foot in my
mouth a lot.”
Easy to do when it always seems to be flapping open.
I was already planning on getting rid of whatever roommate I ended up
with, so finding out I’m stuck for two weeks with this energetic chatterbox
should motivate me further. I should be plotting to stuff her pillow with
bundles of spider eggs or something equally entertaining.
Instead, my attention slides back to her hair. And her eyes. They’re like
Lillian’s, too—a bright, happy blue. Their personalities seem similar.
She’ll probably be so fucking annoying as a roommate, but it feels too
much like I’m looking at a younger, taller version of Lillian, so I decide to
hold off on the spider eggs.
For now.
Walking to the window on my side of the room, I close the thick, dark
curtains to make the bright lighting less harsh on my eyes. I’ll need to blend
in here until Headmaster Hearst returns. Which means I’ll attend my classes
and draw absolutely no attention to myself. Keeping my head down is the
best strategy.
If I have to endure Kenzie as a roommate until the Seeking, I should at
least get an idea of how dangerous she is as a legacy.
“So. You’re a lion shifter.”
She nods, but her smile is less bright as she perches on the side of her
bed. “Yeah, well…I’m supposed to be. I mean, I am, because I can sense
my inner lioness, but my curse…” She makes a face and then leans towards
me in a conspiratorial whisper. “I know it’s taboo for legacies to reveal their
curses, but mine is really obvious—so I’ll just tell you since everyone else
already knows. I can’t shift until my curse is broken.”
Ah, yes. The curse.
I’ve heard plenty about it, including the fact that the curse affects each
legacy differently. Typically the stronger the legacy, the stronger their curse.
The gods put the Legacy Curse in place decades ago to ensure balance
and peace since legacies have a long and gloriously bloody history of nearly
destroying the world through warfare. Long story short, Everbound
University has been the mandatory two-year graduate school for legacies
for over a century. They come here to study, train, and determine how they
fit into the hierarchy of the Four Houses based on their strength and power.
But mostly, legacies come here to find their missing pieces. Because the
only way legacies can break their curses and reach their full potential is
through binding their souls in a quintet pieced together from members of all
Four Houses.
A matching set of monstrous soulmates, if you will. Hand-selected by
the gods themselves.
What a crock of bullshit.
“Anyway,” Kenzie’s entire face lights up again. “It’s fine because the
Seeking is only two weeks away! Can you believe it? I’m so fucking
stoked. I’ve been waiting my entire life to find out who I’ll be matched
with. Isn’t it so exciting?”
“Thrilling,” I mutter.
She tips her head. “I just realized something. Why are you so late to
Everbound? I mean, we’re only a month away from the end of the
semester.”
“Long story.”
 She tries to hide her disappointment at my non-answer. “Got it. Well,
then…hey! Want a tour of Everbound? I would love to be a tour guide. Not
just for you—for anyone. I wish legacies could have boring, run-of-the-mill
jobs like tour guiding because I think it’s my true calling in life. I know
things about this place that even the headmaster can’t imagine. Dead-ass, if
you ever have a random question about this place or anyone here, I’m your
girl because I’ve made the gossip mill my little bitch.”
The corner of my lips twitch. So far, she’s not as annoying as I
expected. She might even be…tolerable.
“A tour would be useful,” I decide.
“Yes! Let’s go now so we have plenty of time to do move-in shopping
for you.”
Kenzie is buzzing with excitement as we leave the dorm, but as we walk
down the corridor, she tries to loop her arm with mine. I sidestep away from
the contact.
She gives me a curious look, but then she earns her first real brownie
points as a roommate when she gets it, no questions asked, and gives me a
thumbs-up.
“Not a touchy person. No worries. So, where to first? One of the two
massive libraries? The dining hall? Ballroom? Courtyards?” Before I can
get a word in, she waves her hand. “Who am I kidding? Let’s start with the
entry, and I’ll show you everything!”
Too late, I realize we’re descending the same stairwell I took earlier. We
both stop on the steps at the scene below us: two faculty members
scrubbing blood off the stone steps.
But the vampire’s corpse? It’s nothing but charcoal.
I tip my head curiously when I note that they’re also cleaning up scorch
marks and smoke all over the walls. It looks like a fire went out of control,
consuming anything that wasn’t solid stone.
Kenzie gives me an oh yikes look before clearing her throat. “Uh…what
happened here?”
One of the faculty members glances at us with a huff. “We’d love to
know that too. Looks like a fire elemental lost control, or it was a fire spell
or something like that. Whoever did it was a spoiled brat and left it for us to
clean up.”
I almost snort out loud.
But I am curious who lit this area on fire. I had nothing to do with that.
 Finally, we slip past them and make our way down another passage, and
Kenzie whispers, “Oof. I mean, it’s not the first time I’ve seen shit like that
here, but still. I wonder who that was. It’s pretty sad that they bit the dust
when they might’ve been just two weeks away from meeting their soul
mates. What a bad time to go.”
Whoever that vampire was supposedly “destined” to end up with, I did
them a favor.
Kenzie shows me the key places at Everbound for the next hour and a
half. Everbound is a maze of Gothic architecture that's remained relatively
untouched despite modern times. Aside from the Wi-Fi, electric lighting,
and plumbing, walking around the university is like stepping back in time
several hundred years. The vaulted stone archways, winding stairways,
gargoyles, chandeliers, multi-room libraries with domed glass ceilings, and
sliding ladders for reaching the upper shelves…
I admit it. This place is impressive.
Just as we’re stepping outside into one of the courtyards filled with
marble statues, a deafening roar fills the air. I go stock still and wait for it to
die out. I’ve never heard a sound like this before. It’s nothing like a normal
animal’s call. It’s powerful, hair-raising, vibrating through the air and
echoing over the nearby forest.
And then a massive golden dragon soars into view.
For a moment, I can only stare incredulously as the creature’s wings
beat the air, creating a strong wind that rustles everything around us. The
beast lands in one of the training fields nearby, and I can feel the ground
tremble from all the way over here. Its wingspan is staggering, scales
gleaming. It folds away its impressive wings and snorts blue fire into the
air…and then, in two blinks of the eye, he shifts into a man.
Dragon shifter.
I can’t see him clearly from here, but I can tell he’s a huge, naked mass
of solid, tanned muscles. A few other legacies—presumably shifters—jog
up and slap him on the back. Shifters are extremely comfortable with
nudity, from what I’ve heard. All of them are shorter than he is, even though
shifters tend to be taller than all other legacies.
“What a drama king,” Kenzie scoffs, shaking her head. “I wonder what
set him off today.”
“You know him?”
 “Oh, yeah! Everyone knows him. You’re looking at Baelfire Decimus,
the youngest son of the revered Decimus family. You’ve heard of them at
least, right?”
“No.”
Kenzie is surprised. “Really? Well, they’re basically the last branch of
dragon shifters in existence, and as their youngest son, Baelfire basks in a
ridiculous amount of attention. Although that’s also probably because he’s a
rizz master.”
I face her. “A what now?”
“You know. Rizz. Charisma. He’s a people person,” she amends when I
clearly don’t get it. Then she wags her brows. “Not to mention his looks.
Crazy handsome, don’t you think?”
Hard to tell from so far away. I watch as he laughs with his fellow
shifters, throwing an arm around two of them at once.
“Huge. I pity the vagina of anyone he takes to bed.”
Kenzie throws her head back and cackles. “Yeah, well, don’t tell him
that. He’s already got a dragon-sized ego. Come on, I’ll show you the grand
dining hall. Did you get a map of where your classes are tomorrow?
Because if you want, I can help you find them⁠—“
“Kenzie!”
We both look over at two girls approaching. Before they get close
enough, Kenzie grumbles under her breath and whispers to me, “Watch out.
These girls are highly ranked. Nice, but way too competitive. It’s better to
stay under their radar.”
They stop in front of us, and the redhead on the left looks over me
sharply. “Never seen this one around. She new here?”
I don’t miss that she addresses Kenzie and not me, as if I’m just a vague
presence she hasn’t deemed with person status yet.
“Oh—yeah, this is Maven. I’m just showing her around. We’re
roommates.”
The other girl is tall with dark skin, a nose ring, and short purple hair.
“House?”
She’s demanding the answer from me. A small part of me is tempted to
flip her the bird to show how little I care about her “high rank” status, but
Kenzie is right. I don’t want any attention, so for the next two weeks, I’ll be
nothing but a quiet, shy wallflower.
“Arcana,” I say quietly.
 The girl grunts, and they both turn back to Kenzie like I no longer exist.
Fascinating. They really do care about their power games, don’t they?
“So,” the redhead grins. “Tea time. Decimus lost control earlier. Went
from zero to dragon in the blink of an eye—I saw it myself! He barely made
it out of the castle in time, and rumor has it he lit an entire hallway on fire
and killed someone they haven’t been able to identify.”
Kenzie glances at me with raised brows, clearly coming to the same
conclusion I have that the dragon shifter must have been the one to set fire
to that stairwell. “Oh, shit. What made him so mad?”
“Who knows? I get that you shifters have intense emotions and all, but
gods, he’s on another level.” She sighs, clearly thinking that’s attractive.
“And you wanna hear something else?” Nose Ring leans closer to
whisper. “We overheard some siphons talking, and rumor has it that the
Nightmare Prince was spotted in Halfton.”
At that, Kenzie’s mouth drops open. “What? No way. No one has seen
him for a couple of years, not since he slaughtered an entire courtroom full
of humans during that whole sex trafficking debacle and pissed off the
Legacy Council and the human government. Why the fuck would he be in
this area?”
“Maybe he’s going to the Seeking,” the redhead suggests.
“Yeah, right. He’s never been to a Seeking, not even when he attended
Everbound years ago,” the other girl cuts in, rolling her eyes.
Kenzie says something else, and they keep talking, but I find my
thoughtful interest drawn back to where the dragon shifter is still chatting
with other shifters far in the distance.
Apparently, powerful legacies draw too much attention. These girls
prove that if I want to blend into the shadows and be forgotten during my
time here, I’ll need to avoid people like him at all costs. I can’t have the
gossips watching me like a hawk.
“…and Crane absolutely humiliated the professor before leaving class.
Of course, he didn’t get in trouble for it—who the hell is stupid enough to
face off with the Garnet Wizard’s apprentice? Gods, I wish I could school
my professors like that,” one of the girls is saying when I tune back in.
“Especially Mr. Frost,” the other agrees with a groan. “So cold and
stuck up, but so fucking gorgeous.”
“I see you with the whole student-teacher kink,” Kenzie laughs.
 “Sue me! We all have what we like. Don’t you have a thing for vamps?
I mean—other than that asshole bully who’s always making your life hell,”
the redhead adds with an eye roll.
That gets my attention. Especially since it seems to make Kenzie
uncomfortable. She quickly brushes it off with a laugh, makes some excuse
about us needing to be somewhere, and gingerly takes my elbow to lead me
away.
Once we’re out of earshot, I pull my elbow back, adjusting the sleeve
even though she didn’t touch my skin.
“Shit—sorry. I forgot about the no-touching thing,” she says, still
looking distracted.
No one is around, so I stop and face her. “A vampire is bullying you?”
She wrinkles her nose and tries to wave away the question. “Gah. It’s
nothing. He’s just…no, really, it’s nothing. I’m fine.”
Just like Lillian, she’s incapable of hiding her real emotions. They all
play out on her face, and right now, I can tell she’s genuinely upset at even
just the mention of this guy. Almost on the verge of tears, even.
Which makes me clench my hands. It’s always the nice ones like her
who pretend they’re fine when someone is making their life miserable. I
had to put up with it whenever it happened to Lillian, but I don’t have to
now. I’ve only just met Kenzie, and I don’t want her to think we’re bonding
—or, gods forbid, friends—but I decide that once I learn the name of this
asshole, I’ll pay him a visit.
Maybe I’ll brew a hex just for him.
But asking more questions about it right now will only upset her more,
and I would literally rather pry my nails off with bamboo shoots than be
around someone on the verge of tears.
So, to distract her, I mutter, “Touching through clothes isn’t completely
unbearable.”
Kenzie blinks. “Oh. Okay, that’s good to know. So I can hug you as long
as you’re wearing, like, a super puffy jacket?”
Yikes. “No hugging. Ever.”
She laughs as we start in the direction of the dining hall. “Fine, fine. I
guess now I also know you’re a caster—you said House of Arcana, right?”
“Yes.”
“Are you like a super powerful caster? Skilled with all kinds of magic
and stuff?”
 With any other legacy, I’d be on edge, but there’s not an ounce of guile
on Kenzie’s face. She’s genuinely just curious, not deciding whether she
should try to kill me in my sleep.
“Nope.” That’s not even a lie.
She breathes out a puff of air. “Damn. I was hoping you were secretly
clairvoyant and you could tell me if I’ll get matched with someone at the
Seeking. It’s all I can think about. Gods, I just want the next two weeks to
be over so I can find out who I get to be with.”
I hum in reply, but I couldn’t give two fucks about the upcoming
ceremony. I’m far more interested in my mission here. Which reminds
me…
“Where can I buy ingredients for potions?”
“Oh, that’ll be at the university store. It carries a lot of stuff, but if you
need specific ingredients, you can actually order them on the app lickety-
split—or so my caster friends have said,” she chatters, back to her usual
cheeriness. Then she frowns. “Speaking of which, I don’t have your number
yet. Here.”
She pulls out her cell phone and hands it to me. I stare at it for a long
moment, trying to figure out what to do with the rectangle, and finally, I
hand it back to her.
“My phone broke. I haven’t gotten a new one,” I lie.
She looks scandalized. “Seriously? Okay, we are so going to Halfton
today. We’re getting you all the things, and you can tell me all about
humans. Now come on, I’m famished.”

OceanofPDF.com
 3

MAVEN

T wo W eeks Later

Knock, knock. "Maven? Are you here?”

I don't bother responding since Kenzie has already burst into our dorm
room. She blinks in surprise at where I sit on the floor, surrounded by
charred plant remains and a ring of smoke.
The smoke dissipates as I discreetly move my hands behind my back so
she won't see my blackened fingertips. I offer no expression.
"Oh! Sorry, I didn't mean to fuck up your…aromatherapy?" She glances
at the other withered plants on the desk at the foot of my four-poster bed.
Then she shrugs it off. "Smells good in here. A bit overpowering for my
nose, but I still like it.”
For the last two weeks, I’ve avoided any and all attention at Everbound
University. My routine is set in stone: wake up, go to classes, speak only
when spoken to, brew potions, keep my head down, and return to my dorm
to bide my time.
I’ve gone to Halfton with Kenzie a few times, and I occasionally
explore Everbound Forest. But otherwise, I have carefully kept to myself to
avoid any chance of running into high-profile legacies.
My reputation as a forgettable nobody is solid.
 And for the last two weeks, Kenzie hasn’t asked any more prying
questions. It's why we’ve become comfortable acquaintances, and I’ve all
but retired my spider-egg-pillow idea. She now calls me her bestie and
makes me binge-watch steamy Regency romance shows with her.
Meanwhile, I put a limp dick hex on the asshole vampire who was bullying
her.
Basically, being stuck in the same room as her has not been the worst
arrangement.
Except for when she barges into our room like this without warning.
That's no good, but at least she didn't see anything.
"So? What do you think of my outfit for the Seeking? I was going for
sexy and stunning with a dash of inappropriate.”
She twirls, showing off the shimmering gold bodycon dress that clings
to her. That's in addition to the strappy platform heels and fishnets. It's a
statement that I'm not surprised she pulls off—though why she keeps
coming to me for fashion advice, I'll never know.
“You are both inappropriately stunning and stunningly inappropriate,” I
confirm.
Kenzie squeals. “This is it. Today is the day we’ve been waiting for. In
less than an hour, we’ll know which other legacies we’ll be bound to for the
rest of our lives!”
She skips to the window on my side of the room and tries to throw open
the black curtains. When she remembers that I spelled them permanently
shut, she gives up and sits next to me, tapping her long, newly manicured
nails against the wooden floor.
"Are you nervous? Gods, I am so nervous. I wonder if I’m going to be a
keeper. What if I wind up in a quintet with ugly people? Or—” She gasps
and gives me the most horrified look. “Shit, what if I have no matches?”
From everything I’ve learned since arriving, that does happen.
The gods may decide that a quintet still has missing pieces, such as
legacies not yet at the university. Those quintets graduate without being
bound to each other, meaning their curses go unbroken. Most incomplete
quintets return yearly for the Seeking, living on a prayer and a hope.
In other words, quintets with age gaps get the shaft.
"I don't want to wait," Kenzie growls, clearly thinking about the same
thing I am. She rolls onto her back, stretching like a cat and sighing at my
ceiling. "I just want all my people at once. Is that too much to ask? I want
two or three gorgeous guys and at least one sexy girl, and then we can all
break our curse together and skip to the good part, where we get on with
life, have lots of kinky, mind-blowing sex, and live happily ever after.
Doesn’t that sound perfect?”
I won’t tell Kenzie this, but I don't believe in happily ever after. Not for
me, anyway.
Am I a pessimist?
Yes. I find it keeps me from being disappointed.
Then Kenzie frowns and props herself up to look at my side of the
room. Her side of the dorm is pretty much empty now, all her bright
decorations, erotic paintings, and other belongings packed neatly into boxes
stacked by her stripped four-poster bed.
My half of the room is almost as bare as the day I arrived. I did buy
things like black sheets and blankets and gray pots for my plants, but I don’t
see the point of decorating when I plan to leave soon. The only evidence of
my space being inhabited are the potted plants on my desk that get their
light from a gentle sunlight spell and the white pillow on the dark bed.
“Hang on. Why haven’t you packed your stuff up yet, May? You know
we’ll move in with our quintet members immediately after the Seeking,
right?”
“If I get matched to a quintet, I’ll move my stuff later.”
It’s a lie. I’m not budging.
“Suit yourself." She gets to her feet. "Now come on! Get ready so we
can get to the Seeking early."
“I’m ready."
Her eyes drop to my baggy, shape-concealing clothes that are so dark
green they're nearly black. "Uh…not to be a bitch, but do you remember
how I bought you a pretty, lacy, emerald-green dress when we went
shopping two weeks ago?”
"Yes. I love it." I’ll never wear it here, where I’m carefully crafting my
reputation for being a frumpy, forgettable nobody, but I do love it.
"But…you're not wearing it."
"Very astute observation.”
Kenzie rolls her eyes at me and then grins. "Well, all right. You know I
think you're pretty in anything—but promise that even after we're super
busy with our new quintets, you'll make the time to have a girl's night with
me, and we'll both get dressed up for a night on the town."
 "I promise." It's an easy compromise because I won’t have a quintet.
I plan to reject any matches I get.
Me tying my soul with four other people? Not going to happen. It
wouldn't end well for any of us. It’s more than likely that I'll be the one to
get no matches today. Fingers crossed.
“Great! Then come on, let's go.”
I grab my favorite pair of black leather gloves from the top drawer of
my dresser and slip them on as I follow Kenzie out of my room. I always
wear gloves. But right now, they're especially useful because my fingertips
are still charred, and I won’t have the time to make up a healing balm until
later.
The moment we step into the large courtyard, we're thronged by the
crowd gathered around an elevated circular stage. The few hundred legacies
gathered here today are separated into four sections, all wearing their House
colors.
Blood red, for the House of Craving. It's the house of siphons—legacies
like vampires, sirens, succubi and incubi, and a few others. They feed on
blood, dreams, emotions, and so forth in exchange for their intimidating
powers, including immortality.
Golden yellow, for the House of Shifters. There were once animal
shifters of all kinds, but now only the apex predators remain. Wolves, bears,
lions, tigers, sea serpents, griffins… Theirs is the House of primal instinct
and territorial savagery.
Silvery blue, for the House of Elementals. The gods bless the
descendants of this House with the ability to wield the four elements: fire,
air, water, or earth. This House is far more devout in worshipping the gods,
who handpick the elementals’ abilities for them at birth.
And finally, emerald green for the House of Arcana. Full of magic-users
—aka casters—of all origins. Fae, sorcerers, witches and wizards, mages…
it’s a mixed bag of various talents, but everyone here has magic in their
very blood, which they can wield. It's the House I was sorted into.
I realize Kenzie has been trying to tell me something over the loud
chatter of the audience when she finally taps my shoulder to get my
attention. I take an instinctive step away even as I glance up at her. Like
most shifters, she’s on the tall side, but the heels just add to it.
“I’ll see you up there later!” she says, face glowing with excitement as
she points at the stage. “Good luck!”
 She turns to disappear into the yellow group. Other shifters recognize
her, and she’s quickly swept up into the nervous excitement practically
palpable in the air.
I slip into the House of Arcana section, surrounded by other casters who
barely spare me a glance since I’ve made sure I’m easy to forget.
The crowd’s chatter finally cuts off when the interim headmaster,
Professor Gibbons, ascends the stairs to the stage, turning in a circle to greet
everyone with a brilliant smile. The warlock’s snow-white hair gleams in
the morning sunlight as he casts a charm to carry his voice over the rapt
onlookers.
“Welcome all to the Seeking! Whether you are here for the first time or
part of an incomplete quintet hoping your missing matches will be revealed,
I know everyone present has been eager for this day for a long time.”
A resounding cheer goes up all around me.
“I’m sure we are all aware of why quintets are necessary. Still, it bears
repeating. Two thousand years ago, our monstrous ancestors emerged from
the hellish Nether realm and nearly ripped the world apart through war
between the Houses. During that time, humans became little more than
fodder for our feuding. They were treated like animals, fed upon, used, and
slaughtered at the whim and desire of our kind.”
That hits too close to home for me. I try and fail to unclench my
grinding jaw.
“Finally, the gods could watch their beloved humans suffer no more,”
Professor Gibbons goes on. “In answer to humanity’s prayers, the gods
created the Legacy Curse. We were made to be incomplete without one
another so that we would have no choice but to put aside our many
differences and work as one. The leaders of the Four Houses were bound
together as the Immortal Quintet and created the Divide to keep the Nether
—and the dreadful Entity who rules it—from ever returning to this world.
We are all safe because of the Immortal Quintet,” he adds proudly.
The audience claps while I roll my eyes.
Safe. Such a subjective term.
“Unfortunately, the horrors of the Nether still seep into this world. The
gods knew that dimension of darkness would forever seek to find a foothold
in the land of the living, and so we descendants of monsters were appointed
to hunt down and kill off these endless threats. Now we share a symbiotic
purpose—and quintets bound together from the Four Houses are the
foundation. Today, you will discover whether other members of your fated
quintet are here.”
Excited whispers fill the air as a woman dressed head to toe in white,
including a shimmering veil obscuring her face, ascends the stairs. I swear
she’s glowing slightly, and it’s not just from the blinding winter morning
sunlight. Her movements are graceful and paced.
Professor Gibbons gestures to her since, apparently, she doesn’t plan on
speaking. “This is the high prophetess Pia of the Temple of Galene, goddess
of light. She is here to divine the will of the gods for each of you, but first,
she will seek out the keepers chosen by the gods to lead their quintets. If
you are identified as a keeper, please come forward and wait for your
individual divination of matches.”
The prophetess makes an odd symbol with her hands, and it sounds like
she’s muttering something under her breath. Maybe it’s a prayer, but I
wouldn’t know since I gave up praying to the gods long ago. Everyone
around me is holding their breath, straining to see the stage.
Then gasps ring out as legacies dispersed throughout the audience begin
to glow. It’s not a faint glow, either—they light up like fucking lightbulbs.
One of the fae casters beside me is so bright I flinch away, only to bump
into a witch accidentally. I vaguely recognize her from my Intro to Runes
course last year. I think her name is Sheila.
“Watch it,” she grumbles, squinting hard at me. “And you might want to
get a move on before you’re the last one in line.”
Her meaning doesn’t sink in until I glance down at my arms and realize
I’m glowing, too.
Shit. That’s not good.
How the fuck am I a keeper?
Maybe the gods just did this to mess with me. I don’t know if they’re
omniscient, but if they are, they should know precisely why I refuse to be in
a quintet—let alone lead one.
My moment of shock ends when Sheila nudges me forward. “You’re
seriously the last keeper in our House still standing around. Come on, get
up there and represent.”
I don’t like all the eyes on me as I weave through the crowd, clenching
and unclenching my gloved hands. But I’d stand out much more if I tried to
resist this, and attention is the last thing I want. At this point, it’s best just to
see if some of my matches are here. If they are, I’m sure they’ll take one
look at me and be more than okay with me rejecting the quintet. They can
appeal to the gods for a new keeper, and I’ll be on my merry way.
The glow on my skin begins to fade as I approach the line of legacies
waiting to go on stage one by one. Professor Gibbons is saying something
but I’ve tuned it out, too busy stewing over this new inconvenience.
I’m so distracted with trying to keep my head down that I actually make
a little, embarrassing yelp when a manicured hand shoots out and pulls me
to the very back of the line.
“Oh my gods,” Kenzie gushes in a whisper. “Can you believe we’re
both keepers? What are the odds of that? This is amazing!”
I stare at her hand on my bare wrist until she lets go, offering an
apologetic smile.
I must not be hiding my dread of going onstage very well because
Kenzie grimaces. “Yeah, I’m nervous, too. So nervous I might puke. But in
a good way—is puking from excitement good? Whatever. I’m excited for
you, too, May. I hope you get matched up with some really great legacies.
Doesn’t everyone deserve their perfect matches?”
Her optimism gives me a headache, but I mean every word when I say,
“Not everyone, but you do. Good luck.”
I’m the last in line, but the queue moves quickly ahead of us. Finally,
we near the stage, and I can see what’s happening better. One by one, each
newly identified keeper receives some sort of blessing from the prophetess.
Then they stand in the center of the stage as any matches they have light up
and make their way through the crowd, ascending the stairs. The
headmaster announces each member by name, formally introducing the new
quintet before excusing them.
A few quintets leave right away, probably to speak in private. That, or
they’re already eager to fuck each other’s brains out. Not all quintets are
romantic or polyamorous—some remain entirely platonic. But most
quintets are made up of people who balance each other out, perfectly suited
to work together as a group. That, combined with the typically high libido
of their kind, tends to develop into sexual relationships sooner rather than
later.
Finally, it’s Kenzie’s turn. She turns to give me a wide-eyed look before
sashaying onto the stage. Pia, the prophetess, blesses her and steps back.
For a moment, Kenzie scans the crowd, practically shimmying with
excitement.
 Then, one all-too-familiar vampire blurs onto the stage, and Kenzie
wilts. I frown on her behalf because no fucking way is she supposed to be
matched up with Luka, the vampire who bullied her for months before I got
here. The one I hexed to make it impossible for him to have a boner.
A tall shifter guy and a dark-skinned elemental girl join them onstage. I
only know the girl is from the House of Elementals based on her silvery-
white dress, so I'm curious which element she can manipulate.
Professor Gibbons introduces Kenzie officially, along with her
incomplete quintet. He adds that they’ll likely be here for the next Seeking
to find their missing piece, and then they’re ushered off the stage. Poor
Kenzie looks queasy about getting matched with Luka, and as they rejoin
the crowd, I decide to find her as soon as this is over.
“And now for the last of this Seeking,” Gibbons says, waving me
forward impatiently.
Being the center of attention of hundreds of hopeful legacies practically
salivating over the chance of joining a quintet is not pleasant. I decide to
ignore the onlookers altogether, staring instead at Everbound Forest in the
distance, well past the courtyard.
Time to get this over with.
Pia steps up behind me and rests her hands gently on the crown of my
head. I wince momentarily before relaxing because, oddly enough, her
touch doesn’t bother me. Her voice is smooth and so soft that I’m sure only
I can hear her.
“Maven, who has chosen the last name of Oakley.”
I frown. No one knows that Oakley isn’t my surname. I had to have a
last name when coming to Everbound University, so I’d adopted Lillian’s.
“Have no fear, my fearless one,” Pia whispers, sounding like she’s
smiling behind that veil. “I know you far better than you might think.
Perhaps better than you know yourself.”
What a creepy thing to say. It almost makes me like her.
She says four words in a language I don’t understand, but I feel them.
Each word seems to wrap around me like a blanket, sinking into my chest to
soothe the emptiness inside. It’s the strangest sensation, this warmth. Like it
was supposed to be there all along.
And then, one by one, three legacies light up in the crowd. Their Houses
quickly part so they can make their way through, but I still can’t see what
they look like because of the multitude of people. There sure is a lot of
whispering going on.
Three matches? This can’t be happening.
But then a fourth one appears—literally just appears—directly in front
of the stage before he saunters up the steps, his consuming gaze trained on
me. His dark hair is messy, sweeping over his forehead except on one side
where it’s close-shaved, revealing that the mix of pale and dark swirling
tattoos on his neck and arms also extend onto his scalp. His ears have
multiple piercings, and a barbell piercing glints at the end of one of his
eyebrows. His irises are a rich purple flecked with silver.
By the strong reactions of everyone watching, including the interim
headmaster, I put two and two together and realize who this must be. After
all, I’ve been hearing rumors about his whereabouts for two long weeks.
Crypt DeLune. An incubus better known as the Nightmare Prince.
He’s the infamous illegitimate son of a member of the Immortal
Quintet. Even without breaking his curse, he’s made a name for himself.
They say he’s unhinged. A sociopath. He left the university five years ago
without any matches. Now, I’m pretty sure every other unmatched legacy in
the audience breathes a sigh of relief that he’s no longer a possibility for
them.
Crypt stops at my side without a word, but I can still feel his attention
on me.
And if being matched to the Nightmare Prince wasn’t enough of a
problem, I recognize the next person to ascend the stairs. Chillingly
beautiful, with white-blond hair and crisp, perfect features. An ice elemental
model turned professor: Everett Frost, heir of the wealthiest family of
legacies in existence.
The whispers are increasing, but Professor Frost doesn’t look at me as
he takes his place on the opposite side of the stage.
I’m so shell-shocked that it takes me a moment to realize my next match
has stopped directly in front of me. I have to tip my head back to see the
imposing shifter better, and I groan internally.
Baelfire Decimus’s amber eyes gleam with nothing short of hunger as
he flashes me a toothy smile. His dirty blond hair and tanned skin make him
look like the epitome of a golden boy. I’ve never seen him this close-up
since I’ve carefully avoided him and every other highly-ranked legacy at
this school for the last two weeks.
 We’re not supposed to speak during the Seeking, but he whispers,
“Finally found you.”
Whatever that means.
When I give him no reaction, Baelfire just winks and moves to my other
side. He stands close enough that I shuffle an inch away as subtly as
possible.
The final legacy who joins us onstage has me barely refraining from
cursing the gods out loud. Because I know him, too. How could I not? Even
if we weren’t in the same House, everyone knows Silas Crane. The other
casters practically worship him. He was mentored by the revered and
deadly Garnet Wizard, who practically raised him after the rest of the
Cranes all died within months of each other.
Now, Silas is the most cutthroat blood fae ever to attend Everbound
University, and like all blood fae, he has dark curly hair, pale skin, pointed
ears, and eyes red as blood. I quickly look away from his intense ruby irises
as he moves to stand near Baelfire.
Fuck my life.
Why did my matches all have to be as high profile as possible? This is
ridiculous. The gods must be laughing at me right now.
While the headmaster introduces us as a quintet and begins rattling off
our names, I try to ignore the warmth humming through my veins at their
proximity. I risk a glance to my right. Bael winks at me again while Silas's
attention is firmly on whatever Headmaster Gibbons is saying. On my other
side, Crypt still studies me. Professor Frost stares out at Everbound Forest
just as I was earlier, as if he, too, would rather be anywhere else. Maybe
he’s embarrassed that he’s been matched with a student, even though he
can’t be much older than I am.
It doesn’t matter. I’m not staying matched with these legacies—or
anyone else, for that matter.
They’re probably all insulted that the gods would pick someone like me
as their keeper. I’ll use that to my advantage.
The moment we get somewhere private, I'll put us all out of our misery.

OceanofPDF.com
 4

BAELFIRE

"... the keeper of this very impressive duet is Maven Oakley of the House
of Arcana,” Gibbons drones.
Maven.
So that’s my mate's name.
I catch her looking and can’t help the smile that springs to my face just
having this ounce of her attention. I wink, but once again, she turns away
without an expression. It's fucking impossible to tell what this caster is
thinking. I like that. She's a pretty little enigma.
My pretty little enigma.
For two weeks, I’ve been tortured with need, knowing my mate was
nearby. I’d happened across a dead vampire in a hallway and planned on
walking right past to report the body, but that’s when I’d scented it.
Her fragrance. Subtle and cold, like a sweet midnight.
Of course, it had been mixed with the scent of blood. Probably the
vampire’s blood, but even just the idea of our mate bleeding had set my
asshole inner dragon off something fierce.
I’ve been jacking off to just the memory of her scent for days, but no
matter where I went or how much I changed up my schedule, hoping to
track her down or run into her by chance, it never happened. She was
always frustratingly just out of reach, almost like she knew precisely where
not to be when I needed her.
But that all changes now.
 My heart is pounding as I glance down at her again. I've never seen her
around Everbound—never even heard of her—and now she's about to be
the center of my world.
Maven.
My inner dragon growls possessively, and I smile in agreement. We
won't be officially bound together until graduation, but that just gives me an
entire semester to learn everything there is to know about my mysterious
mate. She's hiding it well, but I'm sure she's psyched to have a rare dragon
shifter all to herself.
I'm going to covet the fuck out of my mate. Keep her safe and very
sated.
We'll be perfect together, even if the rest of our quintet is a clusterfuck.
Which god thought it was a good idea to group me with Everett Frost and
Crypt fucking DeLune? Silas is a force to be reckoned with and an asshole,
but he's less of an asshole than the other two. Our families have run in the
same elite circles since we were all little, so unfortunately, I’ve known all of
them since we were practically in diapers.
Of the four of us, I'm bound to be Maven's favorite. They’ll all be
jealous motherfuckers.
I can't wait.
"And so this Seeking comes to a close," Professor Gibbons finally says.
"As you all know, new quintets have time to move into matched student
housing together if they so choose. Courses will resume tomorrow. To
everyone who was not matched this year, may the gods grant you better
luck next time.”
Despite the many matches this year, there are still a lot of disappointed
legacies as the audience disperses every which way.
Professor Gibbons motions for us to get off the makeshift stage, and
instinctively, I take Maven's hand before any of the others can. Her hand is
so tiny and cute compared to mine. I wonder why she's wearing leather
gloves. Is she cold? She feels cold—but then everyone does since dragon
shifters typically run at a toasty hundred and five degrees Fahrenheit.
I’m more than happy to warm Maven right the fuck up if she wants.
But immediately, she pulls her hand away, not meeting my curious look
as she leaves the stage.
She must be nervous. I guess that's not surprising—I’d be overwhelmed
if I were a sweet, quiet little wallflower being matched to such well-known
legacies like us, too. Plus, I know I’m a big, scary motherfucker at first
glance. Maybe she’s intimidated by our size difference, but I’ll show her
just how gentle I can be as soon as we find somewhere private to get cozy.
Unless she likes it rough. Or kinky. Gods, I need to know if she has any
kinks.
We all follow our new keeper off the stage as she makes a beeline
through the crowd of disgruntled and curious stares. Once inside the castle,
Maven veers toward the university's massive library. I stick close to her
side, amused that she’s pointedly avoided looking at any of us since leaving
the Seeking. I try leaning down to capture her attention, but she keeps her
eyes forward.
Awe. Who knew my mate would be so shy?
“The library is too public for formal introductions,” Silas says on
Maven’s other side.
“By formal introductions, he means he wants to bone you,” I stage-
whisper.
Silas shoots me a dry look. “Unlike you, Decimus, I'm capable of
thinking outside of my cock. We should find a private space because there
are too many eyes and ears all over Everbound. Quintet rankings won’t
officially begin until next semester when the no-kill ban lifts, but even over
the next two weeks, the competition will grow fierce, and they’ll be looking
for weaknesses in every quintet. Especially ours. I won’t have others
eavesdropping on us just because you love drawing attention.”
“You have always been way too fucking paranoid,” I helpfully inform
him. "And I'm not some attention whore. People happen to like me, unlike
you pricks."
"As mature as ever, I see," Everett drawls sarcastically from behind me.
I'm about to fire off a retort, but instead of stepping into the library,
Maven suddenly turns into an extended nook that I didn’t even know
existed. Has this always been here? I can tell it’s completely private when
Silas immediately looks relieved.
Maven finally turns to face all of us. There’s not an ounce of
nervousness in her expression—in fact, she still has the perfect poker face.
It’s hard to tell much about her body under all the baggy shit she’s wearing,
but her features are pretty in an understated way. There's something
hauntingly striking about her eyes, most of all.
 I’m like a fucking crack addict, already sniffing the air to try to get
another hit of her delicious scent now that we’re not surrounded by people.
But I wrinkle my nose at the overwhelming smell of aromatic plants. She’s
definitely been casting today, and so has Silas because they both smell
strongly like burnt plants. It doesn’t help that Everett’s and Crypt’s scents
are also perfuming this alcove. Hers is impossible to pick out, which makes
my dragon petulant.
“As far as moving in, I preemptively reserved one of the finest quintet
accommodations in the northwest wing,” Silas says, finally breaking the ice
since Everett looks like he’d rather be anywhere else. The Nightmare Prince
is studying our keeper just as intently as I am. “I’ll have Maven’s things
moved in first⁠—”
“No need,” Maven cuts in with a surprisingly firm voice.
It’s the first time I’ve heard her speak, and I’m intrigued. She doesn’t
sound like a shy wallflower. Have I been reading her wrong?
“Would you rather we all move into your little dorm room, cutie?” I ask,
grinning. “Might be a tight squeeze, but I like the idea of close quarters
with you. We can share your tiny bed. These other fuckers will have to
sleep on the floor, though, because I want you in my arms every night.
Might be an issue for Frost since he was born with a silver spoon stuck up
his ass.”
“Fuck off, dragon,” Everett mutters.
“Move in together if you want. Where I stay doesn’t matter because I’m
rejecting the quintet so you can appeal to the gods for another keeper.”
Maven speaks so casually, like she’s just informing us that it’ll rain
later. That’s why it takes my brain a second to catch up with why my inner
dragon is suddenly losing his fucking mind.
But Silas is quicker to the draw as he holds up a hand to stop her words.
“Rejecting?”
“Yes.”
My mate is…rejecting me.
Unexpected pain blossoms in my chest, but I know why. It’s because
shifters like me start developing a bond with their mate right off the bat, and
the idea of that being wrenched away so soon? It fucking hurts.
“Hang on. Let me get this straight. You are rejecting us?” I snarl
without thinking, letting my emotions control my mouth as usual.
 Immediately, I feel like a world-class asshole. It doesn’t matter that I’ve
never heard of her or that she’s not one of the top-ranked students at
Everbound—she’s meant to be mine, and here I am, being a condescending
dickhead.
Damn it, I probably just hurt her feelings. I never want to see her upset.
But Maven has no reaction aside from nodding once, matter-of-factly.
“Yes.”
I stare at her. Everett and Silas are staring, too. Meanwhile, Crypt
slowly dons a creepy smirk like the psychotic fucker thinks this shit is
amusing.
The pain of being rejected wells in my chest. I clench my fists to try
calming the heat under my skin. I can’t tell if I’m more perplexed, offended,
concerned, or pissed—but my dragon is ready to claw his way out and
throw a fucking bitch fit over this. Since I haven’t gone hunting yet today,
keeping him in check is more difficult than usual.
“You’d turn down a gift from the gods? Why?” Everett finally demands.
I scowl at him. Of course, the rich, pious elemental would be more testy
about her slighting the gods than the fact that she’s fucking rejecting us.
“Because we all know you guys deserve a better keeper. As Baelfire so
sweetly insinuated, the four of you are completely out of my league."
I flinch. Damn. What a time to learn that my mate doesn’t pull her
punches. “Fuck, Maven, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Except you did,” Silas mutters. He turns to Maven. “You’re making
this decision rashly. There’s no reason to reject this. We all want our curses
broken, and we all want a quintet…no matter who else is in it.”
His red glare flickers to Crypt, who only looks more amused. Those two
must have more beef that I don’t know about. But I don’t care about that
right now because Maven levels Silas with a bland expression.
“Wrong, wrong, and wrong. It’s best if you four appeal for a new keeper
because I won’t be in this quintet. There’s no point dragging this on, so I’ll
be on my way. Let’s not cross paths again. Better luck next time.”
And then my pretty little enigma just walks away, leaving the four of us
to gawk after her in disbelief.
Better luck next time?
It takes me all of two seconds to decide that I reject her rejection.
Maven is supposed to be my mate, and I’m meant to belong to her.
Rejecting one’s matches is unheard of, and legacies appealing to the gods
for a new quintet member is extremely rare. Usually, that only happens
years after a member of their established quintet has died, and the ones
remaining can't take the empty hole left behind anymore.
She thinks I’ll just drop her and hope the gods find someone as perfect
for me as she’s supposed to be? Yeah right. I’m not letting her go without
getting the chance to know her. Not fucking happening.
“You fuckers can appeal to the gods all you want, but I’ll refuse any
other keeper,” I grit, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in my chest from
the rejection.
Everett gives me a disgusted look. “Appeal? I’d never question the will
of the gods. Besides, there’s no way she was serious about rejecting a
quintet of our caliber. She’s just playing hard to get, trying to get our
attention.”
“She has mine,” Crypt speaks for the first time as he gazes in the
direction Maven went.
And then the Nightmare Prince disappears. The air warps around him as
he fades from sight, and then he’s just gone.
I curse. “That motherfucker picked a bad time to bow out.”
“He didn’t. He just dropped into Limbo so he can roam and observe the
mortal world from there, unseen,” Silas says bitterly. He rubs his jaw in
thought before shaking his head. “Everett has a point. It makes no sense for
Maven to turn us down.”
"Or maybe she just doesn't want you guys in the quintet," Everett
mumbles. "I have to say, it's nice to see Bael has lost his charm. It's about
time he got his big dragon head resized."
I give him a droll look. "Real fucking mature, Professor Snowflake. We
all know if it were a competition between the four of us, Maven would pick
me first."
Everett scoffs. "Over me? Good luck with that. I can give her anything
she wants, give her influence in the top circles of the Four Houses, and keep
her in the lap of safety and luxury for the rest of her life. I’ll make sure she
never has to fight at the frontlines of the Divide. Meanwhile, all you bring
to the table is your ego, some scales, and a misguidedly proud family that
can't mind their own damn business."
I go nose to nose with him, smug that he has to look up when I was
once the youngest and smallest, back when we were all kids. Now I'm
positive I can beat his frozen ass, and my bloodthirsty, newly spurned
dragon is aching for any kind of violent outlet.
No one drags my family name in front of me without earning a few
burns, bites, and broken bones.
"You really wanna do this here and now?" I growl.
The air plummets several degrees around us, making my breath plume
as he sneers. "Why not? I've waited long enough."
Before either of us can move, a teeth-rattling wave of magic pulses
through the air, knocking Everett and me back from each other. My nose
singes with a smell like burning copper, the typical scent of blood fae
magic. I glare at Silas, but he looks thoughtful. Scratch that—he has his
scheming face on.
I used to hate that look when we were little, but now I raise a brow.
“Well? Spit it out."
"A competition between the four of us isn't a bad idea. What if we make
a wager?”
Everett makes a face. "A wager with a fae? No thanks. I'm still not over
the time you needlessly tricked me into downing a glass of kraken ink."
"That wasn't needless. It was for science."
"I was seven years old, and it left me traumatized, blind, and sick as
fuck for two months. It's a miracle I got my sight back. The healer said a
legacy from a weaker bloodline would have died."
"And now I know not to mix kraken ink with my gin," Silas deadpans.
"I say we each name our prize. We all want things from each other, either
for our family or ourselves. Whoever Maven picks first will win the wager."
Name our prize? That’s tempting. I narrow my eyes. "How big of a
prize are we talking?"
"Land. Money. Rare ingredients," he adds, giving me a meaningful
look.
That asshole still wants my dragon scales. I'm sure he'd ask for tons of
them, and then I'd have to grow my armor back slowly and painfully.
Dragon scales are scarce and sought-after ingredients since my family is the
last branch of dragon shifters—and like most legacies, the inability to
procreate is part of our curse.
Even in bound quintets, who can have offspring since their curses are
broken, dragon shifters haven't managed to breed for several generations.
None of my four older siblings have kids. I was considered a miracle child
since my parents are older, even by shifter standards.
The lack of dragon shifter offspring is a sore subject in my family.
"I want land," I decide, looking at Everett. "Frost land. The Lyran
mountain range, including the dormant volcano. It once belonged to my
kind and I want it back."
"Oh, I'm sure you do," he replies coolly, leaning against the wall to pick
lint off his lapel. "But I'm not interested in joining this wager."
He always was an angsty fucker. Anyone can see he's lying. Frosts love
a good gamble. It's part of how they built their empire. Everett has always
been incapable of turning down stuff like this. But when Silas and I stare at
him, waiting for him to give in as he used to when we were younger, he
shakes his head.
"Nope. Talk to the psychopath who just left. This is a bet I won’t take."
"That sure you'll lose, huh? At least you recognize a contest you can't
win."
He rolls his eyes at me as he leaves, probably to grade papers or
whatever other shit he does working here at Everbound. I don’t even know
what he teaches, and I don’t care.
"Think Crypt has left the university?” I ask Silas.
"I'm not that lucky."
"Then, since it’s your idea, you can track down that freak and tell him
about our little wager. I'm going to go hunt something so my dragon doesn’t
kill the first person to look at me wrong, and then I’m going to find my
mate.”

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 5

MAVEN

L ess than a second after I knock, Luka opens the door, and his nose
wrinkles.
“If it isn't the smug little hex-happy witch bitch.”
"In the flesh. Is Kenzie here?" I peer behind him into the shared living
space.
This is the quintet apartment that Kenzie painstakingly picked out and
reserved last week in her hopeful excitement that she might get matched
today. She dragged me here a few days ago to give me the grand tour. I see
she took my advice to hang up all her erotic paintings in the living room. A
bunch of boxes stacked next to a newly purchased couch is further proof of
the others moving in.
"She's busy," Luka snaps.
I hear a faint moan of pleasure from behind the closed door of the main
bedroom. At least Kenzie is already getting along just fine with the rest of
her quintet. Looking back up at Luka, I barely hold back a smirk.
"Seems you've been left out of get-to-know-you nookie. Let me guess.
Performance anxiety?"
He hisses and steps outside to face me, slamming the door behind him
and glowering. If he had a decent personality, he would be passably
handsome. Too bad he's a douchebag.
"That's it. Lift the damn hex."
 "Not until Kenzie tells me to. She gets to decide when you've atoned for
making her cry herself to sleep on more than one occasion."
Luka winces and rubs his face. "Look…I get it. I was a dick to her, all
right? She drew my attention too much, and I overreacted. I never claimed I
was Prince fucking Charming. It's just that she can be so…Kenzie, and I
didn't want to deal with it. I didn’t know how to deal with everything I felt
around her. I thought it would be easier to just⁠—“
"Do I look like your shrink?" I interrupt.
Luka opens his mouth to spew more words I'm not interested in, but
then he looks behind me, nose flaring. I glance over my shoulder, but we're
alone in this hallway.
"Thought I saw someone else in the hallway. Must’ve been a shadow,”
he mutters by way of explanation.
Then his sensitive vamp hearing must pick up more of the goodie-
getting in the apartment because he groans and darts a desperate glance
behind him. It's morbidly satisfying that he gets to hear just how stupid he
is for how he's treated Kenzie.
"Okay. Look—what's your name again?" he grits, turning back to me.
“Hex-happy witch bitch has a nice ring to it. Why change it?”
Luka bares his teeth. "I'm not the patient type. It's Minerva or some shit,
right? Listen, Minerva, you're going to lift this hex right the fuck now
because–"
"Because you feel entitled to a woman now that you've been matched to
her?" I cut him off, my voice turning sharp. "Or maybe you really do feel
bad but need your dick to help you win her over since your personality isn't
enough. Either way, I don't care, so drop it. I'm not removing the limp dick
hex until Kenzie tells me to. Grovel to her, not me."
Luka finally loses his temper and snarls, fangs extending. Instinctively,
my hand slips into one of my hidden pockets where another of my favorite
blades awaits, even though I’m not sure Kenzie would appreciate me
stabbing her new match. Maybe she’ll understand if it’s in self-defense.
But just as he steps forward the air wavers, and someone blurs into
existence between us just as I hear a loud snap.
Luka screams and reels back from...the Nightmare Prince. Who
promptly turns around and offers me the gleaming, bloodied fang he just
snapped right out of the vampire's mouth.
 "Fucking bastard!" Luka lisps, stumbling back into the apartment and
locking the door behind him.
I study the fang in Crypt’s hand, watching the residual blood and venom
pooling at its sharp tip. Finally, Crypt arches a dark brow. He looks like a
deadly, sultry dream, one corner of his mouth pulling up in a crooked grin.
"Don't you want it, darling?" His voice is lightly accented, close to a
rasp but somehow warmer.
Do I want that vampire's fang? Yes. I know Luka will regenerate a fang
with no problem since siphons can regenerate at nearly the speed of a
shifter. Still, I'm sure his expression would be priceless if he saw me
walking around with his fang on a necklace.
But accepting this would make Crypt think I approve of him following
me when I distinctly remember saying I didn't want to cross paths with him
or the others again.
"Pass."
"Hmm. He should be punished more for daring to bare his fangs at you.
Maybe I'll slip it under his pillow later like a backward, fucked-up tooth
fairy. Possibly give him some night terrors for a few weeks. Would you like
that?"
Very much. His offer is appealing, but he can’t know that.
When I stare, waiting for him to get the hint and walk away, Crypt lifts
the fang to his tongue and licks the venom from its tip, maintaining eye
contact with me the entire time. Either it's a weird siphon flex I don't get, or
he's trying to get a reaction out of me.
Even though my neck feels warm, I keep my face neutral. "I'm late for
lunch. Have a nice trip leaving Everbound.”
I walk away, but he strolls next to me, tucking Luka's fang into his
pocket and studying our surroundings as if he's cataloging all the little ways
the school has changed since he left five years ago.
"I'm staying.”
"Then good luck finding another keeper here."
"Pass," he says, parroting me with a sly grin.
At that, I pause and regard him. I thought I spelled it out well, but
maybe he didn't understand me earlier.
"I rejected the match, Crypt DeLune. We're not in a quintet together. We
never will be."
"Darling, have you ever seen a raindrop fall upwards?"
 I give him another unimpressed look. “If you're implying that we're as
inevitable as the direction rain falls, prepare to be disappointed.”
“Nothing about you disappoints me. You’re brilliantly unexpected.”
Can he hurry up and vanish back to wherever he came from earlier? "Is
it true all siphons are unable to cross the threshold of an inhabited dwelling
without explicit permission? It's not just vampires?" I check.
"Unless we're in Limbo, yes.”
Right. I forgot that very strong incubi can freely pass between this level
of existence and the unseen dream plane that overlaps this reality. That must
have been where he popped out of earlier.
I can't have the Nightmare Prince wandering into my room when he's
invisible—or worse, appearing in my dreams at night. Which means I need
to track down a dreamcatcher to repel him. Maybe the university store has
that.
Turning on my heel, I walk in the opposite direction. Crypt keeps up
with me easily, giving me a languidly curious look.
"Changed your mind about lunch?"
I ignore him.
He smirks and I glimpse his sharp canines—not as sharp as vampire
fangs, but sharper than a human’s. It’s a visual reminder that he's also
descended from monsters.
“I’ll fetch you food if you want. Tell me what you like. Anything at all,
I'll bring it for you."
"No. Go eat lunch alone."
“As I’m sure you know, my kind doesn't get any true sustenance from
mortal food. I feed on dreams. I wonder what yours taste like."
Probably like shit.
We pass another group of students in the hall and I tense when one of
them calls out, "Maven! Congratulations on your quintet!"
"Yeah, you are outrageously lucky," another student grumbles, their
tone implying that me being paired with my well-known matches is the
outrageous thing.
They leave the hall without saying more to me, but that doesn’t mean
they won’t talk about me later. What a pain in the ass. Usually, I can go
anywhere without anyone sparing me a glance, but I’m sure plenty of
students will add my name to the gossip mill, considering who my matches
are. I wonder how long it will take for them to lose interest in me after my
matches appeal for another keeper. Hopefully, I’ll be long gone by then.
"You don't enjoy attention from strangers," Crypt surmises, studying
me.
He can surmise whatever he wants. I don't care what he thinks of me.
Besides, I'm sure he’ll lose interest and stop tagging along if I don’t
acknowledge him for long enough.
Resuming my trek through Everbound, I round a corner and nearly
crash into Baelfire.
Godsdamn it. These men are like a bad rash.
I try to step around him, but his hand finds my shoulder, gripping it
gently to keep me close. Even with my shirt’s buffer, the contact constricts
my chest, and goosebumps ripple down my arms. I escape quickly from the
contact, but Bael doesn't notice because he's busy glaring at Crypt.
"Is this DeLune bothering you, Mavie?”
Mavie? “Ew. Don't call me that.”
“How about…Spooky Boo? Or just Boo, since you’re my boo.”
I roll my eyes. “You're both bothering me. I don't want to see either of
you.”
“As you wish,” Crypt murmurs before dissipating like a mirage. He
must be back in Limbo, watching and listening in from there.
Bael's gilded gaze drops to me and immediately warms. “Alone at last,
more or less. Wanna grab a bite together? I'm ravenous. Food is entirely
optional,” he adds with a suggestive wink.
I stare at him. How blunt do I need to be for him to get the message?
“Get lost.”
“I just want to make sure my adorably spooky little mate has eaten.”
That word sends a sensation pooling in my stomach that I can’t name.
Mate.
Absolutely not. I can’t be that to him—to anyone.
Before I can shut down that notion, Silas Crane also rounds the corner,
slowing when he sees us. His attention skips down to me, and I swear his
expression intensifies into something almost…possessive.
Which is insane. He doesn’t even fucking know me. None of them do,
and yet here they are. I keep my face impassive, but irritation prickles along
my spine. It seems none of my matches took what I said earlier seriously.
 “I was magically tracking the Nightmare Prince. That led me here,”
Silas explains, glaring at the hallway around us as if he suspects Crypt is
nearby. “Maven, I’ll craft a custom dreamcatcher for you. You deserve your
privacy and believe me, Crypt doesn't know the meaning of the word.”
Do I need a dreamcatcher? Yes. Am I a strong enough caster to make a
functional one by myself? Not currently. But I can't accept anything from
my matches, or they'll think I'm giving in.
“I already have one,” I lie smoothly and step around them to escape.
Over my shoulder, I call, “From now on, leave me alone. Your time is better
spent asking for another keeper.”
I hear them arguing quietly behind me until I turn and hurry up another
set of stairs. But the tension doesn't leave me because I know I'm still being
followed, unseen, by Crypt. His presence is a dark, alluring thing. Subtle
enough to miss entirely if I wasn’t hyper-aware of all of them in a way I’m
choosing to ignore, just as I once again choose to ignore that Crypt is
following me.
Reaching one of the on-campus university stores doesn’t take me long.
It's small and sells a laughable mashup of modern goods and shit only
legacies need. There's a fridge stocked with sodas, energy drinks, and blood
bags for the vampires in need of a quick fix. A lineup of nail polishes and
cosmetics is on display beside a shelf stocked with heat and rut
suppressants for shifters, jars of powdered unicorn horns, and other random
potion ingredients.
While browsing the few aisles looking for what I need, Crypt's presence
nearby finally vanishes. I smile smugly to myself. He must have finally
decided to give up.
Along with purchasing a dreamcatcher that I hope is strong enough to
keep the Nightmare Prince away, I buy a few essential ingredients to make
another healing spell for my singed fingertips.
I'm not particularly gifted as a caster in the typical sense. I can manage
minor, practical spells and potions, but most of my skills have nothing to do
with day-to-day magic. Still, healing myself is necessary since I can’t go to
the university healers.
Thirty minutes later, I arrive at my dorm room and pause outside the
door with a frown. Hanging on the handle is a delicate rope chain necklace
with Luka’s fang as its sole pendant. Directly beside it is a beautifully
woven dreamcatcher, its feathers stained dark with what looks to be blood
and sigils burned into the delicate web net. It's obviously the work of a
skilled blood fae. And on the ground is a massive takeout box of Chinese
food from a restaurant in Halfton, the nearest human town. It's still
steaming.
Oh, my gods. They have no idea how to handle being rejected, do they?
If they don't respond to blunt rejection, how am I supposed to get out of
this quintet? Grumbling to myself, I grab the unwanted gifts and slam the
door shut behind me.

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 6

MAVEN

T hat evening , I’ve finished healing my fingertips and I'm watering my

plants when Kenzie bursts into my dorm room with an excited squeal. She
rushes towards me with her arms extended like she’s coming in for a hug,
but I block it by lifting the watering can.
“Wouldn't want to get you wet.”
“Right—sorry, I’m just so excited I forgot the no-hugging rule.” She
wiggles her eyebrows and purrs, “But don't worry about getting me wet.
I've been wet all day if you catch my meaning.”
“Nice innuendo. I take it you like your quintet.”
Kenzie clutches her heart and drops onto my bed, sighing at the ceiling.
“Vivienne is the sexiest little angel in the world, and Dirk is almost as feral
as I am in bed. And they're both so nice! We're going to be such a fantastic
quintet once…”
She trails off, and her smile drops a little.
“Once that vampire stops being an asshole?” I guess.
“He hasn't been one today. Actually, he's politely given us our space
today. He helped everyone else move into the apartment but said he
wouldn’t move in until I gave him the green light. There’s all this awkward
tension between us, and I can tell he keeps wanting to say something, but
whatever it is, he keeps chickening out. I don't know how to feel about
being matched to him. On the one paw, he clearly wants to make up for how
he treated me before, but on the other paw…well, I don't get over things
easily. Am I being petty?”
“No. You're protecting yourself.”
“The gods wouldn’t match me with someone who wouldn't be good to
me, though,” she muses, sitting up to braid her hair. “So maybe I should let
go of the past and give him a real chance. But enough about me—girl. Can
we please talk about your infamous, sexy, wealthy, ridiculously top-tier
quintet? I’m so fucking excited for you! I bet you’ll be in one of the
highest-ranked quintets of all time!”
I look away. “They're not my quintet.”
“What do you mean? Hang on…May, why are you still in this dorm?
Aren't you going to move in with your guys?”
“They're not mine. I turned them down so they can find a better keeper.”
Kenzie stares at me so long that I wonder if she heard me. Then she tips
her head. “Wait. Why would you think you're not a good enough keeper for
them? You're amazing. And if the gods made the match, then you know you
five were all meant to be together. Nobody rejects their matches because it’s
fate.”
As if the gods care about my fate. I shake my head and return to
watering my plants.
“Trust me. Rejecting them was the right thing to do.”
To my surprise, she throws a hand over her mouth to try muffling a loud
laugh. “Gods. You actually rejected those legacies? I wish I were there to
see the looks on their faces. How did they take it?”
I glare at the Chinese takeout in the trash can. The fang necklace is in
one of my drawers, and I begrudgingly hung both dreamcatchers up over
the threshold of my dorm because as much as I don't want Silas’s gift, I
want Crypt getting into my room even less.
“They’ll get over it,” I mutter. Then an idea strikes me, and I face her.
“Kenzie. You've dated a lot more than I have.”
She grins. “As we’ve established, yes.”
“I'm abysmally inexperienced in comparison.”
“It’s true, you’re basically a monk,” she agrees. “A virgin monk, I’m
pretty sure. No offense.”
I fight a morbid smile. “None taken. Tell me. What have your exes done
in the past that made you dump them?”
 Kenzie blows out a big breath slowly. “Oh, gods. Where to even begin?
Honestly, there are so many reasons to dump someone. If they're boring,
annoying, clingy, mean…oh, or if they're high-maintenance. That gets old
fast.”
Boring, annoying, clingy, mean…
I take mental notes, waiting for her to go on.
Kenzie scratches her nose as she thinks. “Cheating is obviously a huge
deal breaker. I've never been cheated on, but I would drop them like a
griffin turd if they betrayed me like that. I did have a boyfriend once who
flirted with anything that had a pulse, which was irritating. He did it to
make me jealous, but he learned fast that I don't play head games.”
I watch as she stands, stretches, and meanders over to examine the
magical orbs of light hovering over my plants. She shoots me a sheepish
grin.
“I’ve only been dumped once, and they said it was because they hadn't
realized just how high my body count is. Guess I intimidated them.”
“It’s not your fault they were insecure.”
She laughs, but I'm keeping a mental list in my head. One I intend to
write down and use to drive my so-called matches away. It will be far easier
to break up the quintet if I can get them to hate me.
“It won't work, May.”
I glance at Kenzie, waiting for her meaning. She smiles knowingly,
looking both amused and sympathetic.
“I know what you're up to, but trying to make your quintet dislike you
isn’t going to work. You're too endearing.”
Endearing? Me? I almost laugh out loud. She's too nice to everyone, but
especially to me.
“You are the only person who's ever thought that about me,” I inform
her.
Kenzie shrugs. “You’re a master of hiding your emotions, and you say
as little as possible, but actions speak louder than words. I know the real
you. It won't take long for your guys to see the real you, too, no matter how
you try to hide it.”
She's underestimating my acting skills. After all, no one here has
questioned my backstory.
Changing the topic, I decide to come clean to her. “I ran into Luka
earlier. One of my so-called matches snapped a fang out of his mouth.”
 She gawks at me. “No wonder poor Luka disappeared for so long today.
Damn, your matches don't mess around.” Then she wiggles her eyebrows
again. “Sounds like they're protective.”
“More like self-deluded. It won't last. Luka’s fang is in my drawer if
you want to parade it around in front of him.”
She shuffles uncomfortably. “I don’t want that. I know he was an ass to
me, but as strange as it sounds…I don't hate him. I don't really know how I
feel about him, but I don't want to hurt him. Maybe he and I can be friends,
eventually.”
Like I said, she's too nice to everyone.
Before I can say that she’s far too forgiving of him, a sharp, sudden
bloom of pain in my chest takes my breath away, making my vision blur. I
grip one of the posts of my bed tightly, but otherwise, I carefully control
any other outward sign of pain.
Gods, it hurts worse than usual.
“I need to work on a potion for class tomorrow before it gets too late,” I
lie quickly, trying to keep my voice even. “I'll catch up with you later.”
“All right. But I want to hear all about your attempts to repel your
quintet. Pretty sure this’ll be super entertaining to watch,” Kenzie teases
before saying goodnight and leaving the room.
The moment the door shuts behind her, I crumble to my knees,
clutching at my chest. Now that I'm not fighting it, the pain lances outward
from my torso—almost like the center of my body is being sucked through
the eye of a needle.
I know from experience that unless I speed along the process, I could be
in for hours of agony before the message comes through. So, instead of
waiting, I stumble to my closet, pulling out one of my many hidden vials of
dark liquid.
Uncorking it, I down the disgusting mixture quickly, gagging on the
taste. A familiar burn floods my system before everything fades to black as
I slump to the floor. Then, I feel nothing but cold.
Telum.
That word reverberates through my mind along with a flurry of images,
all one after the other. Twisted trees decorated with hanging bones.
Shadows sliding over corpses. A sky cycling through day and night,
fourteen times, while snow falls.
But the last images are the ones that burn into my mind.
 Lillian being tortured. Her in a room with blood and gore, surrounded
by dark smiles, screaming as she’s slowly pulled to pieces. The screams of
the others.
Telum…
The last echo dies out as a sudden, severe shock jolts me awake. I gasp
and claw at my chest, trying to force the pain away. I'm lying on the ground
in my room, head pounding while the cold gradually fades from my limbs.
The vial I drank from is shattered on the ground beside me.
With a grimace, I try to pull myself up, but my body feels like it's made
of wet cement. So, instead, I lay back down and scowl at the ceiling,
thinking.
The winter solstice is fourteen days and nights away. That’s what that
image means. I have until the solstice to finish the first task.
And I certainly can’t do that with four idiots breathing down my neck
all the time.
With a renewed determination to drive away my supposedly fated
matches, I force myself to move, to sit at my desk, and pull out a paper and
pen. I jot down a game plan—my Make Them Hate Me list.
Once it’s done, I reread it before nodding with satisfaction. Tomorrow,
if any of my rejected matches approach me, I'll use the first tactic on the
list:
Bore them to tears.

OceanofPDF.com
 7

SILAS

B efore sunrise , I arrive at the apartment reserved for my quintet. The only
one who slept here last night was Baelfire since Everett was nowhere to be
found after the Seeking and Crypt was likely out devouring dreams all
night.
Myself, I stayed in my old private dorm room. I have no plans to stay
overnight with my quintet until after our curses are broken at graduation.
Otherwise, my curse won’t allow me to get a moment of rest around the
others.
I set my hand against the apartment door, which I spelled to open only
for my quintet members. When the door swings open, I raise a brow at the
deer that Bael is skinning and cleaning in the large kitchen area to the left of
the spacious entry.
“Delightful.”
“Please,” he huffs. “As if blood has ever bothered you. I haven’t
finished draining it if you wanna sip on a vein or something.”
I don’t bother explaining for the umpteenth time that blood fae only
feed on blood from magical beings. Whether my kind should remain in the
House of Arcana or whether we’re more fit for the House of Craving has
long been debated, given our similarities to vampires. But unlike other
siphons, we don’t require blood for our sustenance. It just makes our magic
stronger.
Deer blood is useless. I know because I’ve tried it.
 “You’re up early.”
He shrugs and snaps the dead animal’s pelvis to remove more intestines.
“Felt like getting an early start.”
Sometimes, I envy the ability others have to tell lies since fae like
myself cannot. And I know Baelfire is lying. His early morning hunt likely
had to do with his curse.
I’m one of the few who know the specifics of his.
The draconic brute is shirtless, only wearing dark trousers. The rest of
him is smeared in blood, dirt, dead leaves, and gods know what else. At
least he’s kept the apartment neat, keeping his mess in the kitchen.
“Clean this up before Maven arrives.”
His eyes flash to me, and the hopeful excitement that lights his face is
almost childlike. “She’s coming? When?”
“I’ll convince her to.”
Mainly because the idea of my keeper staying in the tiny dorm room I
identified as hers yesterday bothers me. It’s not safe enough. Keepers are
considered the ones in charge, but they are also fiercely protected by their
quintet because they’re the keystone, so to speak—the core of the group,
without which the quintet would break and the curses would return. It
makes keepers a target for other legacies hoping to climb the power
rankings. Although the no-kill ban doesn’t officially lift until next semester
when quintets train together, Maven is still in danger—especially
considering how highly ranked the rest of our group is.
This apartment is layered with all kinds of protective spells that would
reassure me that my keeper isn’t in any danger, and it’s stocked with almost
anything she might need for her comfort. Which is why I’ll make sure she
moves in sooner than later.
Baelfire grunts and returns to cleaning his kill. “I’m going to play hooky
with Maven today. Take her out to Halfton for lunch and anything else she
wants. My mate will accept me first, and after I spoil the fuck out of her in
bed for a few days, I’ll collect on that wager you proposed. If Everett hasn’t
joined the bet by then, I’ll make sure to demand something that’ll be a pain
in your ass to pay up.”
Cocky bastard.
I didn’t make that wager lightly. Of course, it’s crucial for us to make
progress with our keeper, but I also need quite a few of Baelfire’s dragon
scales. He’s known for years that I want to use them in experimental spells
and potions.
What he doesn’t know is why I want them. Certainly, they’re a rare
ingredient many spells call for, but I have two specific purposes in mind for
his scales.
The first, I wouldn’t dare breathe a word of to anyone I don’t trust. And
I only trust myself.
But the second purpose, I can’t tell the dragon, or he’ll think I’ve gone
soft.
I watch as Baelfire accidentally jostles the table while sectioning the
deer. My eye twitches. That, combined with the scent of the carcass, the
smooth glide of that knife through the flesh, the dim lighting of a cold
dawn, and that familiar creeping feeling sliding like chilled oil over my
spine…
How easy it would be for that knife to wind up in your back, a voice like
my father’s whispers in my head.
My breathing quickens, and instinctively, my hand edges toward my
pocket where my bleeding crystal is. I always carry it there in case I need to
cast a powerful spell in the blink of an eye. I’m so accustomed to the slight
ringing in my ears that I only realize Baelfire is trying to get my attention
after the second time he’s called my name.
The ringing fades. My eyes snap to his, and I’m not sure what he sees
on my face, but he immediately sets the knife down and steps back, wiping
his bloodied hands on his trousers.
“Whether we like it or not, we’re in a quintet now. You know I
wouldn’t.”
He means he wouldn’t kill me.
Only Baelfire knows how my curse affects me, and that leaves a bitter
taste in my mouth. Most people can’t understand the severity of it, but he
does because, in some ways, our curses are similar.
But just because he understands doesn’t mean I can trust him.
He’ll betray you. He’ll turn Maven against you, too.
The other voices in my head agree. If you don’t get to him first, he’ll rip
you to shreds.
I shake my head to dispel the suspicions crawling inside my skin like
termites.
 Baelfire scratches his chin, studying me. “On second thought, maybe I
should show you some mercy and let you try to win Maven over first.
Maybe being around her will make you less…you know.”
Neurotic. Haunted. Incredibly fucking paranoid.
My curse is slowly driving me mad, making me expect foul intentions
from perfect strangers. I see everything through suspicion-colored lenses.
It’s as if my nerves are always hardwired to everything, searching for the
most minuscule way others might try to harm me. Some days, it’s
debilitating.
Baelfire may be right. Perhaps Maven will soothe the backstabbing
demons in my head.
I’m going to find out. Though Maven is in my House, I’ve never even
noticed her existence until the Seeking, and I regret that heavily. It means I
have no idea what to expect from her. She’s a question mark to me, and I
intend to know every tiny detail about her.
Her likes. Her hates. How strong she is. How well she’ll be able to lead
the four of us.
“Just clean it up when you’re done,” I mutter, leaving Baelfire alone in
the apartment.
I’m halfway through Everbound on the way to Maven’s dorm when the
interim headmaster spots me in the hall and approaches, calling out my
name. I try to ignore the lingering suspicions clinging to my skin. It casts
everyone in a darker light, and I can’t help eyeing Mr. Gibbons more than
usual.
He’s a brown nose, constantly checking in on me, expecting to impress
me with preferential treatment. Everyone knows I became the Garnet
Wizard’s apprentice after the deaths of most of my family. Since the
mysteriously wealthy Garnet Wizard donates hefty sums to Everbound, Mr.
Gibbons must see me as a cash cow to cozy up to.
I despise that he thinks I’d appreciate preferential treatment.
“Mr. Crane,” he says with a smile, stopping before me. “I see you out
and about by the break of dawn so often, long before any classes. A truly
admirable quality. If only more of the other legacies were like you.”
“If they were more like me, we’d all kill each other within a week.”
He tries to laugh it off like I’m joking. Never mind the fact that I can’t
lie, even in jest.
 “What a sense of humor you have. We might be descended from
monsters, but we do have some decorum. You know the rules about killing.
Of course, we must still allow the weak to be weeded out—but that’s just
how things have always been at Everbound. It’s the way of legacies.”
Annoyance prickles at me. The longer he gabs, the shorter the window
of time I have to invite Maven to breakfast. “Is there a point to this
discussion, Mr. Gibbons?”
“Indeed, I wanted to inquire about what emphasis you and your rather
impressive quintet are leaning toward next semester. Everyone is curious to
see what you’ll choose, and I’d like to make sure you get first pick at
classes.”
Ah. He wants to know how to give me even more preferential treatment
moving forward.
I should have anticipated this.
Until First Placement, students will go about their regular classes from
this semester as they get to know their matches. But starting next semester,
new quintets will study and train together, whether their group is complete
or not. Our individual rankings will change into quintet rankings, with
cutthroat competition to establish the most powerful. After graduation,
those rankings carry over into where we will be assigned for active combat.
Most legacies are assigned to guard and patrol the Divide, which is a
large demarcated border extending all along the eastern border of North
America and most of South America. It’s where the Nether is kept at bay,
frozen through the efforts of legacies so it will spread no further into the
mortal realm. We’re responsible for hunting down anything that escapes.
But not all quintets are stationed there. We get our assignments from the
Immortal Quintet, who might instead send us into private security positions,
roles inside the legacy government, protecting the temples of the gods, or
even allow us to live in the high society of legacies—a spoiled, pampered
lot who rarely get their hands dirty with real work.
Everett’s family falls into the last category. It’s why he was bragging
about his ability to give Maven a life of security and protection. I don’t
mind that idea. I’d prefer to have my keeper far from danger. Especially
because I’m positive she isn’t competitively ranked here at Everbound, so
she’s likely not skilled with magic.
“So, which emphasis are you and your matches leaning towards?”
Gibbons asks, cutting into my thoughts. “Defense and combat? Holy guard?
Covert operations? Or perhaps a less common emphasis, like administration
or human relations? We need more valuable quintets to help the rapport
between humans and our kind, after all, since it’s taken a nosedive for the
last twenty or so years. They’re such squeamish, mistrustful creatures—
meaning no offense to your keeper’s family, of course.”
That captures my attention. “Maven is from a human family?”
He blinks. “Why, yes—you didn’t know? She came to Everbound a
mere two weeks ago as a newly manifested atypical caster. Not from a
magical bloodline at all. You know how magic sometimes pops up within
humans with no prompting, entirely of the will of the gods. I thought she
would have told you that by now...but then, she is rather a tight-lipped little
thing.”
I consider this new information. Atypical casters aren’t affected by the
Legacy Curse, so they don’t have the same burning desire to find their
quintet to finally feel complete and break their curse as the rest of us. Is that
why Maven talked about rejecting us? Does she find the idea of binding her
heart to four monster descendants terrifying?
It just adds to my many questions, and I regard Gibbons. Perhaps his
brown-nosing isn’t so problematic after all.
“Tell me more about Maven’s family.”
He strokes his white beard nervously. “Well, now…when it comes to
her family, I’m afraid all I know is that they passed away while she was a
child. She has no emergency contacts to speak of.”
She’s an orphan like me.
Not bothering with more small talk, I leave the interim headmaster to go
to her dormitory. I don’t want to miss the chance to talk to her before
classes begin.
When I finally arrive in the hallway where her dorm is, Maven is just
leaving her room. She spares me an impassive glance before walking past
as if I’m not studying her.
I can hardly help it. She has such a unique type of beauty—subtle yet
complex. Today, her dark hair is swept into a braid over one shoulder. She’s
again dressed in ill-fitting clothes several sizes too big for her, and I note
that she’s wearing the same pair of leather gloves she wore yesterday.
Interesting. Is she germophobic?
I quickly catch up to her. “I trust the dreamcatcher came in handy.”
No reply.
 “Someone left you a necklace. Was it one of us, or is it from an outsider
woefully mistaken in thinking you’re on the market?”
Just the idea of someone outside our quintet sniffing around Maven,
taking up her time, eyeing my keeper…my jaw clenches.
“I’ve never been on the market,” she drawls.
I drop the subject as we walk through the vaulted stone hallways. “I’ll
treat you to breakfast.”
“Not hungry.”
“Lunch, then. Later on between your classes.”
“No.”
She’s stubbornly not looking at me. I’m unaccustomed to trying to
pique someone’s interest since too much of my time is spent avoiding
people who won’t leave me alone. I also haven’t had a strong interest in
women over the years, outside of brief instances of sexual relief. After all,
having a close relationship with someone just opens the door to more ways
they can betray you.
Paranoia makes a poor bed companion.
But if she’s so intent on ignoring me, I may as well test her resolve.
“How did your family die?”
Maven slows to face me, expression unreadable. We’re close to
Everbound’s largest courtyard, which houses a massive greenhouse. I can
smell the sunlight and soil from here.
“Slowly and painfully, or so I was told. How did yours die?”
She doesn’t bat an eye, but her voice has an edge. She wants no
sympathy, and something in my chest melts slightly. I understand that part
of her. I hate sympathy, and I especially hate when it’s offered for my
family’s demise.
“Most of them killed each other,” I quietly confess. “Including my
parents.”
In front of me. When I was thirteen.
There’s a faint flicker of something in Maven’s eyes, perhaps even
empathy, before she turns to enter the empty greenhouse. I follow,
determined to make more progress.
“Do you always come to the greenhouse first thing in the morning?”
“I am a botany aficionado.”
I study her. If she’s telling the truth, why haven’t I seen her in the
greenhouse more often? I’m here frequently since I have a plot of thriving
plants in one corner. An affinity for nature is the one thing I look back on
with fond memories passed down from my family.
Is Maven the same way?
I gesture at a nearby cluster of white-petaled flowers. “What do you
suppose this is?”
I already know what it is, but it’s not an outright lie to feign ignorance.
I’m testing her.
When she speaks, her voice is flat and monotonous. “Death camas. Also
known as meadow death camas, which is a part of the Melanthiaceae
family. The leaves, bulbs, and flowers are all poisonous, but that poison is
far more potent when the plant has been dried. Not usually fatal to consume
in small amounts, but it can cause severe illness.”
Then her eyes sweep to me, and she looks unimpressed. “It looks
remarkably like wild garlic blooms to the untrained eye. I’m sure that’s the
answer you were testing against.”
Impressive…and perceptive.
Curious, I point out another plant. Not only can Maven identify the
plant, but she knows an array of facts about it as well as the potions it’s
commonly used in. Without my prompting, she moves on to another, and
another…and another. Her voice is a measured drawl. Most people would
find it dry and uninteresting. Incredibly dull, even.
But I’m captivated.
By Maven’s intelligence, her calculated movements, even the way the
dappled morning light dances across her skin when she walks under a trellis
in bloom. For someone who’s supposedly so quiet all the time, she’s
articulate to a point.
Whenever she’s not looking, I find my attention skimming over the
frumpy clothes completely obscuring her body, curiosity building in me.
Obviously, I want to know what she looks like naked, but more
importantly…why does she dress like this? For comfort, or is she self-
conscious?
She glances over her shoulder. “I must be boring you.”
A smile tempts the corners of my lips up. It’s a foreign expression on
my face. “On the contrary. Go on. I intend to listen to you commentate on
the entire greenhouse.”
Maven turns away to run her gloved hand softly over the ferns. I’ve
never been jealous of plants before, but my attention suddenly can’t seem to
budge from her gloves.
I want to feel her bare hands on me. All over.
“I see. Tell me what topics do bore you.”
“Very little,” I admit, struggling to pull myself out of that arousing train
of thought. “Even knowledge of the driest of subjects can be a useful
weapon when least expected.”
Maven turns to study me with her first hint of genuine curiosity. I’m
standing nearer to her than I have to date, and this close, I discover her dark
irises are truly a mysterious blend of dark shades—brown, gray, deep blue,
shadowy green.
And…she doesn’t look away from me.
Most people find my full attention and blood-red irises too intense, but
she doesn’t flinch or try to fill the quiet with small talk. She’s steady.
Immovable. Stubborn.
Beautiful.
“So there’s no chance of me boring you to tears,” she summarizes.
“Is that what makes you want to reject the quintet? You worry we’ll lose
interest in you?”
Immediately, her voice steels. “I don’t just want to reject it. I did.”
“There must be a reason. Is it because you come from a human
background, and quintets seem strange? Or is something else scaring you
away? Perhaps we intimidate you.”
Maven snorts and brushes past me without making the slightest bit of
contact despite the close quarters. Still, my pulse jumps, and my mouth
goes dry. The dark, morbidly sensual thought surfaces, and my mouth
waters as I suddenly wonder what the magic in Maven’s blood would taste
like.
What she tastes like.
“I don’t owe anyone an explanation. Go find another keeper, Silas
Crane.”
I make no move as she leaves the greenhouse, but the longer I stand
here, the more it sinks in.
My paranoia was silent the entire time we were alone.
No thoughts of her trying to kill me, no jumping at shadows, no hearing
voices.
“Intriguing,” I murmur to myself.
 But not half as intriguing as my keeper is. She must have a reason for
resisting the bond. I intend to find out exactly what she’s keeping from us.

OceanofPDF.com
 8

MAVEN

T hat was a bust .

Internally chastising myself for trying to bore my most studious match
with plant facts of all things, I make my way through a crowded corridor
toward my first class of the day. I rarely take this route since I prefer
passing as few students as possible, but I quickly realize just how terrible an
idea it was to take it today of all days, right after the Seeking.
Everyone knows who I am now.
That’s painfully obvious with the amount of stares tracking my every
move. I can hear whispering, and a few people even wave and try to say
hello. Others size me up. And since glowering at them or using choice
words would be seen as a challenge and drum up more legacy-power-
struggle drama, I decide to take the easy way out and stare at my feet as I
walk, pretending none of it is happening.
Just a couple more weeks until the winter solstice. If I don’t fulfill my
mission by then, I’m leaving Everbound anyway.
Stepping into my Introduction to Runes class, I climb the stone steps to
the right of the amphitheater-style seating to get to my spot in the back,
where I’m sure people will leave me alone. But when I arrive at the section
of long desks and benches, I pause at the sight of the annoyingly chipper
dragon shifter waiting for me.
Baelfire’s smile is dazzling. “There’s my Boo.”
“I’m not your anything. You’re in my seat.”
 He points at his face and winks. “I’ve got a better one right here for
you.”
Fucking dragon.
When I just stare silently at him, carefully avoiding letting my emotions
seep onto my face, he scoots over slightly to make room for me on the
bench.
“I’ve never been to a casting class before, but I’m excited to see what
you’ve got hidden up those adorably oversized sleeves.”
I want to huff that he has his own classes, but noticing all the PDA-
infused groups getting settled in the classroom—many of which are not in
the House of Arcana—I remember Kenzie mentioning over a week ago how
matches typically go to their keeper’s classes for the two weeks after the
Seeking. The school allows it because they place such extreme importance
on quintets.
Inconvenient, but whatever. I’m nothing if not adaptable.
I sit on the edge of the bench, as far away from him as possible, while
Professor Crowley starts class. The rest of the legacies present quiet down,
but there is still a stomach-churning amount of soft arm caresses and cheek
kisses. Gods, just looking at it all makes my skin itch. I try to focus on the
lesson.
But I quickly learn that dragons make terrible desk mates.
First of all, Baelfire is such an enormous mass of brawn and heat that he
encroaches on my space without meaning to. He’s keeping his hands to
himself but not his eyes. I can practically feel his gaze memorizing my
profile as I look straight forward, purposefully ignoring him.
“I didn’t sleep worth shit last night,” he says suddenly.
Ignore.
“So, to pass the time, I made two very long lists.”
Ignore.
To show him just how little I care that he’s made me the center of all his
attention, I pull a notebook from thin air—a useful little enchanted book
that anyone can buy at the university store. I open it and start skimming my
notes.
He adjusts on his side of the desk to face me slightly more. “The first
was a long-ass list of questions I have about you. Promise me you’ll answer
at least five of them.”
“Not happening.”
 “Awe, come on,” he pouts. Pouting is childish and unattractive, yet
somehow, he pulls it off. He even makes it flirtatious as he leans over to
catch my eye. “Little questions. Questions that don’t even matter, like your
favorite flavor of ice cream or the three movies you’d take with you to a
deserted island. I just want to get to know you, even the insignificant shit
you think I’ll forget. I won’t pry or ask uncomfortable questions—cross my
heart that now only beats for you.”
“Are all the Decimuses this annoying?”
“The word you’re looking for is charming. And nope. I’m one of a kind,
and now I’m all yours.”
Could he be any more aggravating? I can feel his body warmth so close
to mine, and I edge away, trying to focus back on my notes.
“I’m in class.”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t even look like you casters will be using magic
today. Every legacy knows the shit this guy is covering.”
He jerks a thumb at the front of the room, where Professor Crowley
points to five illustrations on the massive chalkboard as he summarizes the
five planes of existence.
“At the top is Paradise,” he orates. “Home of the gods. Mortals aren’t
admitted there, even after death. Below that is where we are now. Earth,
also known as the Mortal Realm. The middle layer, which is easily
forgotten much of the time, is Limbo—the plane of existence where only
strong incubi can navigate while conscious, although every living thing’s
subconscious dallies there when they’re fast asleep.”
At the reminder of Limbo, I abruptly wonder if Silas and Baelfire aren’t
the only matches who’ve bothered me today. Is Crypt here somewhere,
unseen but watching me?
Yes. I can’t describe how I can tell he’s nearby, but I suddenly know
with certainty that he is. It’s a subconscious feeling I didn’t notice until this
moment.
Gods, I really need to shake these guys.
“Come on,” Baelfire presses quietly. “Just five questions. You can pass
any you don’t like.”
“Shh.”
The professor goes on. “As you all know, beneath Limbo is the Nether,
the parasitic layer of existence that we legacies are in charge of keeping at
bay to keep it from getting a foothold in the Mortal Realm. It’s a disturbing,
lifeless void filled with the undead, shadows, monsters, and other
unpleasantries, to put it lightly.”
He taps the board. “And finally, below the Nether is the Beyond. It’s
where we all go after death, sent off to be sorted into our respective
afterlives by Sachar, the judge and ruler of that unscalable realm. Souls
don’t come back from the Beyond—not even the gods, according to my
favorite theologian, Forner. Forner wrote extensively on the death of the
goddess Reniah during the Great Wars when humans and legacies…”
The lesson continues, but I’m focused on the illustrations. Most legacies
here grew up hearing about the five planes of existence. I heard about them,
too, though my education growing up was different from my peers.
Finishing my notes, I glance at an empty row to my right and down a
few steps.
It looks empty, anyway. But when I narrow my eyes in suspicion, the
Nightmare Prince flickers into view for barely a fraction of a second. He’s
sitting on the desk, looking half amused as he takes a drag from an odd-
looking cigarette. And just before he disappears back into Limbo, he blows
me a godsdamned kiss, leaving nothing but smoke behind.
It happens so fast that when Baelfire glances over to see what I’m
glowering at, he misses Crypt altogether.
“Someone bothering you, baby?”
“You are. There. That’s one question answered. You have four left.”
He grins, looking pleased at my answer instead of frustrated as I’d
hoped he would be. “What kind of caster are you?”
I pretend he never spoke, turning back to the front of the classroom.
Bael leans an elbow on the desk and rests his chin on his fist. “That’s
fine. Didn’t expect you to answer that one anyway, Miss Mysterious. How
about this instead: favorite ice cream flavor?”
“Pass.”
“Seriously? Why? It’s just ice cream. Okay, how about…favorite
flower?”
That’s harmless enough. “Dead snapdragons.”
He frowns. “Why dead?”
“Because when they shrivel up, they resemble tiny human skulls.”
It’s surprisingly difficult to keep from laughing at the expression that
crosses his face—a mix of taken aback, confusion, amusement, and
something like concern.
 “Okay then. As far as flowers go, that’s pretty damn metal.” Then he
shakes his head at me, his smile warming so it feels far hotter in this room
in the blink of an eye. “I fucking love that my mate is secretly a little on the
kooky side.”
More than a little.
Still, his casually dropping the l and m words together extinguishes any
bit of mirth I felt a moment ago. I turn back to my notes with icy
composure. “I am not your mate.”
“Keep telling yourself that. So. My next question is…”
I don’t hear the rest of the words coming out of his mouth because my
hearing short-circuits when Baelfire absentmindedly reaches up to adjust
some of my hair, tucking it behind my ear. The brush of his warm knuckle
against my temple has my spine going ramrod straight. I lean away from
him as my lungs clench, unable to keep the sharpness out of my voice.
“No touching.”
Baelfire freezes before pulling his hand back. His brows draw together
as he studies me, confusion and alarm warring in his molten gaze. “Shit, I
didn’t know that was…I’m sorry.”
He’s silent, frowning at the desk in front of us as I listen to the end of
Professor Crowley’s lecture. Class ends, and the other legacies start to file
out. Some of them get Baelfire’s attention with waves or hellos. And from
the way he interacts with them, shaking off whatever was bothering him to
smile and make effortless conversation with everyone else, I can tell Kenzie
was right about him having what she calls “rizz.” It’s obvious he’s naturally
a social butterfly.
But I notice that whenever the other students so much as glance in my
direction, Bael steps in front of me slightly. It’s a barely noticeable gesture,
but he’s making it crystal clear that they don’t get to talk to me unless I
want it. Which means that I don’t have to have a single conversation with
my peers who have been whispering about me since yesterday’s Seeking.
I admit it’s convenient to have this massive dragon shifter shield to keep
me from all the idiotic small talk.
That doesn’t mean he’s not an overly persistent pain in the ass.
I’m the last to leave, with Baelfire strolling beside me. And I’m almost
certain Crypt is, too. Maybe I should just wear a dreamcatcher as a necklace
all the fucking time to keep him away. If only there were an easy repellant
for all my no-longer-matches.
 “Wanna go to Halfton for lunch after your next class?” he asks.
“Not with you.”
“Ouch. Careful with my heart, Boo. It’s far more fragile than I am,” he
laments theatrically.
I roll my eyes. “You’re now down to three questions.”
“Noted. So why the no touching rule?”
I’m not about to open that can of worms, now or ever. Instead of
answering, I pause in the hallway to frown at him as I recall something he
said earlier. “What was the other?”
“Hmm?”
“Earlier, you said you made two long lists. One was questions. What
was the other?” Normally, curiosity doesn’t faze me, but it irks me that he
never expounded on that.
Baelfire’s grin turns wicked, and he bites his lower lip. “All the ways I
plan on worshipping you in bed. It took up too many pages, and I got
sidetracked a couple of times jacking off just thinking about it all.”
Oh.
Gods. He’s such an oversharing idiot. That’s not a mental image I want
in my head…mostly because it is impossible to think of anything else now.
A small part of me wants to see this list. Call me morbidly curious, not to
mention a glutton for punishment, because it’s not as if any of the scenarios
he wrote down will ever play out.
Ignoring the oddly fluttery sensation in my gut, I resume the trek to the
eating hall. Baelfire keeps up easily. Of course, he does. His legs dwarf
mine because he’s fucking giant.
I descend a staircase and walk into Everbound’s massive dining hall. It’s
an impressive display, with large tables and seating for hundreds, a
cafeteria, several small chain restaurants operating along one half of the
long room, and a vaulted ceiling made of arched glass high above. The
other wall is a series of tall arched windows that give a fantastic view of the
wintry woods in the distance.
It’s not crowded right now, which makes it easier for Silas Crane to spot
us the moment we walk in. His scarlet eyes hold mine from across the
room, but he motions at Baelfire.
“He wants us to sit by him,” Baelfire mumbles. “Selfish dick. It’s my
time with you. He had this morning.”
 As with the first time I met my matches, I pick up on a slight edge
between them as Baelfire and Silas have a silent conversation I don’t
understand. Though whatever tension is between them seems mild
compared to how obviously Silas disdained Crypt—or the way Everett and
Baelfire made jabs at each other.
Fine by me. If they’re not friends, that makes breaking up our quintet
easier.
Silas gestures for me to come to him. He picked out a good table, away
from the bulk of other legacies chatting as they chow down. If I’m honest,
it’s my favorite place to sit in the dining hall. But instead of going to him, I
turn and walk to a table in the opposite corner.
Bael follows with a quiet laugh. “You’re so damn cute.”
“No. I’m not.”
“You’re like an adorable little raincloud. I get the feeling you’d be
cuddly, too, if you just gave me a chance and lifted the no-touching rule.”
I sit at the table and fix him with a look. “If you try to cuddle me, I'll
hex you so that you shit thunder for a month.”
It’s a bluff. Casting the limp dick hex on Luka was already barely inside
my magical powerhouse since I’m running low on my ability to cast at the
moment. I’ll have to remedy that soon.
Bael sits directly beside me and winks. “We'll get there, Boo.”
It doesn’t take long for Silas to come to us, sitting across from me and
studying me as intensely as he did when we were in the greenhouse. It’s
seriously inconvenient how gorgeous all my matches are, but all in their
own way. Silas? His dark curly hair is mussed, and something about his
shifting red irises makes him look ill at ease, but he emanates dangerous
intelligence. Like he knows every possible way someone might try him at
any given moment, and he’s already calculated what weaknesses to take
advantage of.
“How was your class, Maven?”
“You need to leash your dragon. He won’t stop following me around.”
Baelfire makes a sound of indignation. “Leash? Fuck that. Leashes are
for dogs. I’m a damn dragon.”
I ignore him. “Between the Decimus and the DeLune, I get the
impression you three don’t know how to handle rejection. That’s going to
have to change.”
 Silas frowns slightly, ignoring the latter part. “You mean, you can sense
Crypt nearby?”
“Wouldn’t be surprised if he’s been tailing us all day, that creep,”
Baelfire grunts.
I glance over my shoulder. Sure enough, the air ripples to reveal the
Nightmare Prince leaning against the nearest wall. His lips curl up into a
pleased smirk as if he’s flattered that I can sense his presence.
“What a keen keeper I have,” he murmurs.
I’ve had enough of this. Looking at them each in turn, I spell it out. “I.
Am. Not. Your. Keeper. So fuck off.”
Crypt and Silas both look mildly amused, and Baelfire openly grins. “I
love hearing you swear with that pretty little mouth.”
Oh, my gods, these assholes are exhausting. Why can’t a bitch just ditch
her god-selected soulmates and move on? I can’t complete my mission with
them constantly hanging around, and my time is going to start running out.
The winter solstice is less than two weeks away.
And I can’t let them figure out my secret, or they’ll kill me themselves.
Fine. I’ll have to use the strongest tactic on the Make Them Hate Me
list. Skipping right past annoying, clingy, mean, and a bunch of others I’d
written, I settle on play head games.
But first, I need to pick a candidate they all hate. Discreetly, I glance
around the dining hall to see if there’s anyone here I could stomach cozying
up to for a week or two.
My attention is arrested by the strikingly handsome elemental sitting
several tables away with a group of professors. He’s in academic attire, but
he makes the others look bad since he may as well just have walked straight
out of a modeling shoot. All women and several guys within a hundred-foot
radius of him are openly drooling, including one of the faculty members
sitting across from him with stars in her eyes.
Merciless jawline. Icy white hair. Glacial eyes that sweep over to me
before looking away just as quickly.
Everett Frost.
That’s not a bad idea.
Silas notices where I’m looking, and although he speaks matter-of-
factly, his voice has an edge. “He should be getting to know you too.”
Baelfire looks equally annoyed at the sight of the professor. “Nah, she’s
better off not dealing with that frozen prick until she has no other choice.”
 Bingo.
This strategy should have been obvious from the beginning. Maybe I
can sink this ship from the inside. They’re already on thin ice with each
other. Let’s see what jealousy can do for me.
“Actually, I would like to get to know the professor better. He’s exactly
my type.”
Three sets of eyes swing to me.
“Frost?” Baelfire scowls. “You’re twisting my tail. There’s no way that
pampered icicle is your type. How would you even know when you haven’t
said a word to him? He’s the biggest dickhead of all of us.”
“A gorgeous dickhead,” I muse. “He used to be a model, right?”
Baelfire scowls, but Crypt snorts. I can’t tell what he thinks is more
amusing, what I said or this whole situation. Whatever his thoughts on it, he
ripples and disappears once again, and after a second, I don’t sense him
nearby anymore.
Silas looks skeptical. I’m ready to get this jealousy show on the road, so
I leave the table and cross the room. It’s true what Baelfire said—I haven’t
spoken to Professor Frost outside of that initial rejection. He’s been the only
one to leave me alone like I asked, which has been a relief.
But for the sake of turning them all against each other? I couldn’t have
asked for a better scenario than cozying up to a man of ice who is
indifferent to my existence.

OceanofPDF.com
 9

MAVEN

A s soon as Professor Frost sees me approaching his table, he stands. I’m

not sure what to make of that. Either he’s being overly respectful in an old-
fashioned manner, even though he can’t be more than five years older than I
am, or he’s about to run.
I’d prefer the latter.
But when I’m close enough, he turns and walks to the nearest serving
area without a word. And since I can feel the weight of Baelfire’s and
Silas’s stares on my back, I pretend this is exactly what I expected as I
follow the ice elemental. I wait beside him as he politely tells the girl
behind the counter what to put on the plate. She keeps getting distracted and
messing up the order because she’s gawking at him so hard.
Finally, Professor Frost clears his throat. “Need something, Oakley?”
“I have a proposal for you.”
That clearly isn’t what he expected, and he turns to raise a brow. He
does pull off the frigid, aloof asshole look. He looks like a deep winter
morning personified. “I can’t say I’m interested.”
Thank the gods. He won’t make this complicated.
“I’m not interested in you either, Professor Frost,” I reassure him.
His expression ices over as he lifts one shoulder in a jerky motion.
“Good. I’m glad that’s been so clearly established.”
The legacy behind the counter overheard, and now she’s openly glaring
at me. “Hey. Are you going to order something? If not, get lost. No one
wants a snobby bitch who doesn’t appreciate what she has holding back the
line.”
The professor’s attention returns to her as he pays for the food, but I’m
distracted by my breath coming in plumes in front of my face out of
nowhere. Did someone open a window?
He leads me to a separate, smaller table, sitting and scooting the tray
toward me. “So. Your proposal?”
I sit, glancing at the tray full of steaming sauce, meat, and cheese with a
side of toasted bread. It must be a dish I’m unfamiliar with. That happens a
lot since I grew up eating the same bland foods every day.
“Aren’t you hungry?”
“I already ate.”
“Then why get all this food?”
“Because you didn’t eat,” he says like I’m the slowest person alive.
I haven’t eaten all day, but I’m still not accepting anything from them,
so I scoot the tray to the middle of the table and fold my gloved hands in
my lap. “I want to pretend we have a thing for each other.”
He blinks rapidly before understanding crosses his features. “You want
to make them jealous.”
“Yes.”
“Because you want them to want you even more.”
An unfeminine snort escapes me before I can stop it. I clear my throat
and compose myself again. “Sure. Why not?”
Professor Frost glances over his shoulder to the table where Baelfire and
Silas don’t even try to pretend they’re not watching us. They’re also clearly
in the middle of an argument.
“But if it’s not to make them jealous, then why?” he asks.
“Let’s say it’s for shits and giggles.”
He rubs the back of his neck. “This is a bad idea.”
“Can’t be. It’s mine.”
His brows go up, and then he scoffs. “You’re not what I expected,
Oakley. At all. And that’s both a very good and a very bad thing.”
I don’t have time to puzzle out whether that’s an insult or a compliment.
“Here’s my proposal, Professor Frost. We⁠—“
“Call me Everett,” he cuts in coolly. “Everyone does.”
“Fine. We pretend we like each other, Everett. We have mild PDA in
front of the others. Otherwise, I promise to leave you alone if you do the
same for me. And when you four finally get a new keeper, I’ll be cheering
along with everyone else.”
He looks away. “I’d rather not have that.”
“Fine. Then I’ll be booing and throwing rotten tomatoes,” I deadpan.
The professor meets my eye, and for a fraction of a second, a strong
emotion I can’t identify flickers over his face. It’s gone just as quickly,
though, replaced by cool indifference as he shakes his head. “I’ll think
about this proposal and get back to you.”
“I’d prefer a yes or no now.” I’m already losing time trying to get them
to leave me alone.
He mutters something under his breath about needing to visit a temple
and stands from the table. “Later. And if you want to convince those
arrogant assholes we’re falling for each other, you should eat the food I got
you. It’ll make me look like a gentleman and make them feel guilty for
talking your ear off instead of taking care of you.”
“If we want them to think we’re falling for each other,” I counter, “Then
you should pat my head or smile or something before you go. You look as if
this was a highly unpleasant conversation.”
He hesitates for several beats before leaning toward me, and I catch the
barest hint of a soft, fresh mint scent clinging to him. I expect him to pat my
head as I suggested, so my soul almost leaves my body when his lips brush
ever so lightly against my forehead.
They’re cool to the touch as if he was just out in the wintry wonderland
and hasn’t had time to warm up.
Then he leaves quickly.
It takes me a moment to unfreeze from my spot, and I just barely resist
reaching up to scrub the place where his lips touched my skin. Baelfire is at
my table in the next second, dipping down to try to read my expression with
furrowed brows.
“Did he ask for permission to touch you, or do I need to hunt him down
and beat the frozen shit out of him?”
Acting perfectly unfazed, I shrug. “He’s the only one who doesn’t need
to ask for permission. Out of all of you idiots, he’s my favorite. Excuse
me.”
I make my way out of the dining hall, taking the quickest route that will
spit me out into one of the main hallways of the eastern wing of Everbound.
Baelfire doesn’t follow me yet—he’s telling Silas what I just said, and I can
hear them arguing in hushed tones. Hopefully, that means they’ll be at each
other’s throats soon.
Ignoring some of the legacies who are openly sizing me up as I leave
the dining hall, I turn the first corner I come across. This massive corridor is
empty except for three girls walking in my direction. I swap to the other
side of the hall to get out of their way—but they swap, too, looking right at
me as they approach.
I recognize two of them as the high-ranked legacies Kenzie warned me
to avoid on my first day here—the redhead’s name is Sierra, and the tall,
dark-skinned girl with the nose ring is Harlow.
I’m unfamiliar with the angry girl in the middle, but she would be
stunning if she weren’t wearing such a nasty expression. Her dark skin and
eyes are a stark contrast to the silvery-white streaks running through her
black hair. If I had to make an educated guess, I’d say she’s another highly-
ranked, overly competitive legacy who Kenzie would warn me not to get on
the radar of.
They stop directly in front of me, all leering.
Guess I’m on their radar.
“So you’re Maven Oakley?” Angry Girl snaps, looking over me with
hatred practically glowing in her eyes. “I can’t believe he was matched to
this.”
I open my mouth, ready to tell them I don’t even care which of my
matches she’s referring to because they’re not my matches anymore since I
rejected them. But I pause, realizing this is an opportunity that shouldn’t be
wasted. I’m trying to play head games to get those guys to hate me, and
here are three pissed-off, jealous girls.
All I need to do is piss them off even more.
Child’s play.
I tip my head. “Problem, ladies?”
Sierra scoffs. “Yeah. You’re the problem. Take a look at yourself. Gods,
you just got matched with the hottest fucking legacies in existence, and
you’re still dressing like that?”
“I didn’t know my worth as a keeper was determined by my wardrobe.”
Angry Girl pipes up, glowering at me. “No, it’s determined by how
useful you are—and you’re not. We did some digging, and we know what
you are. I can’t believe that four of the most powerful legacies in the world
got matched with a weak, germaphobic little asscaster.”
 Germaphobic?
Oh. She must think that because of the gloves.
“You’re nowhere near their caliber—and you’ll just get yourself killed
trying to pretend otherwise,” Angry Girl emphasizes as if she wouldn’t
gleefully kill me herself this second but for the danger of getting caught by
the faculty, who would cut her ranking down as punishment. “Legacies like
you are destined for administrative support and shit like that—far away
from anything remotely dangerous. Far away from your quintet since
everyone knows they’re destined for great things. Far greater than you.”
Sierra lifts her chin. “And forget about having anything but a platonic
work relationship with them. Think you have what it takes to hold their
interest? You’re wrong. And you can take my word for it because I fucked
Baelfire and Silas Crane this semester. I know what they’re into, and you’re
not it.”
There’s a weird clench in my throat that I actively choose to ignore.
Meanwhile, Harlow glances at the redhead, resentment flashing across her
face. Clearly, they have a catfight on the horizon.
But I’m over this conversation. It’s time to wrap it up, bait them, and
move on.
Sierra is the easiest target.
“And you think you are what they’re into?” I look her in the eye.
She sneers and steps forward, getting far too into my personal bubble
but I hold my ground.
“Yeah. I am. Because they might’ve been matched to you, but you will
never be enough for them. You’ll always be the asscasting little bitch they
have no choice but to come home to—they might even fuck you once or
twice out of pity. But make no mistake, they’re not yours. Virile legacies
like them will always crave someone who can satisfy them—someone like
me. Now that they’re facing the bleak prospect of you for the rest of their
lives, I could have any of them with a bat of my eye.”
An emotion I’ve never experienced before wells in my gut, but I push it
out of mind and lift my chin.
“Prove it. Steal them from me.”
For a moment, I think she’s debating attacking me right here in this hall,
but Angry Girl cuts in with, “We will,” and marches past me, fuming. The
other two follow after Sierra spits on one of my black boots.
A real charmer, that one.
 I take a deep breath and try to relax my gloved hands, which I realize
clenched up without my notice. There. If this situation were a chess game,
I’ve just sent three pawns to stir up trouble with the quintet. That should do
some damage.
For a moment, I consider how each of my so-called quintet members
would react to someone like her trying to seduce them. I barely know them,
but I’ve seen a small snapshot of their personalities, and I’ve heard plenty
of rumors, some of which I’m now sure are true.
Silas is intense. Merciless. He hooks up with girls sometimes, but they
say he’d just as easily slit their throat if he thought they posed a threat to
him. Still, he might go for her.
Everett won’t. Everyone knows Professor Frost ignores women
completely, especially university students. He equally ignores the advances
of men, ruling out any whispers about him being gay. He’s basically an icy,
rich, off-limits sex icon educator who would probably freeze Sierra without
a second of remorse if she bothered him.
Crypt is…Crypt. I doubt anyone knows what the Nightmare Prince’s
sex life is like, but he’s far from predictable. He strikes me as someone who
acts purely on impulse, meaning seduction will probably be effective where
he’s concerned.
And Baelfire has a reputation for having a sky-high sex drive, even
compared to others in his House. He’s hot-blooded, which makes sense.
Shifters are said to experience emotions far stronger than others. When
they’re sad, they’re inconsolable. When they’re angry, they’re murderous.
And when they’re a horny, cocksure dragon who has been sexually
frustrated by a mate who rejected him…
It all comes down to animal instincts.
He’s the most likely to sleep with her.
I try to smile smugly to myself since that was precisely my goal here.
After all, the sooner they fuck up, the easier it will be to destroy any hope
of our quintet getting along. I should be thrilled.
But strangely enough, my breathing feels tight as I continue down the
hall. Emotions threaten to surface, but all it takes is repeating my mantra
and remembering why I’m here.
“I am nothing but deadly,” I whisper to myself. “I feel nothing.”
As if the universe decides now is the perfect time to mock me, I freeze
in place when I definitely feel something. Familiar pain blooms in the
center of my chest, and I stumble to lean against the wall with a ragged
gasp. The edges of my vision blur.
Fuck. I can not be found like this.
I already know Silas, Bael, and possibly Crypt might find me any
moment since they’ve been following me all day. I’m too far from my room
to make it in time, so I duck into the nearest women’s bathroom, trying
desperately to pull air into my failing lungs.
The pain is spreading like wildfire now, agony like cold needles prying
every vein open on the way down my torso and arms. I barely manage to
make it into a bathroom stall and lock it before my world caves in on itself.
I’m so far gone that I don’t feel my head smack the stone floor, but I know
it’s hard enough to split me open somewhere.
That’ll leave a fun, bloody mess for later.

OceanofPDF.com
 10

CRYPT

O bsession is fascinating .
I’ve never felt anything similar, but there’s no mistaking it. Every
moment without her in my sight makes my bones ache. She’s in every
thought, every pulse of my blood, and all my sick and twisted fantasies,
which have had no end ever since I found her to star in them.
After feeling nothing for so long, this fixation is suffocating.
Addicting.
I’d forgotten how heady emotions can be.
So when I return to the eating hall from an unavoidable errand, still
unseen in Limbo, and find not even a trace of Maven Oakley’s aura
remaining here for me to follow, I’m taken aback by the slew of unmoored
panic that floods my system. I don’t realize I’ve unleashed mania on the
nearest students until I notice a couple of shifters are trying to rip each
other’s throats out while their friends hold them back.
As entertaining as it would be to watch, I kick off the ground and leave
the eating hall, intent on finding Maven.
Being in Limbo is similar to laying in a pool looking up through the
water’s surface. Most of the time, I can hear and see the waking world, but
it can sometimes be muffled and distorted. Here, I am unfettered by gravity,
with free rein to drift and roam wherever I please, through walls or the
thickest metal safes. Barring anywhere protected by a dreamcatcher, of
course.
 Most incubi can’t stay in Limbo for longer than a handful of hours at a
time, but my relationship with this unstable subconscious realm is unique. I
spend most of my time here out of necessity, and to date, it hasn’t driven me
to madness.
More madness, rather.
After far too long of drifting through classroom walls and castle halls,
gritting my teeth at the absolute lack of Maven anywhere, I realize I’m a
fool. All I need to do is track down the auras of the others, and they’ll lead
me to Maven. After all, they wouldn’t be so thickheaded as to leave our
precious keeper without any protection.
It’s easy enough to track Crane down. He’s always had a singularly
crimson aura, but when I follow his trail, he’s in the interim headmaster’s
office, reading through a file with a frown. The interim headmaster happily
gabs at him even though it’s clear the blood fae is only interested in
whatever the papers in his hands say.
If it’s anything relevant—meaning about Maven—then I’ll hear about it
at some juncture. I’m far more concerned about getting her back in my
sights.
I come across Frost’s soft blue aura as I drift through a nearby hall, but I
don’t bother following it. Whatever crock of shit she’s trying to sell about
him being her favorite, it’s not like she’d be spending time with that reticent
sap.
Finally, I find myself in the hallway leading to Maven’s dorm room
after following Decimus’s obnoxiously bright aura. He’s standing outside
her door, clearly debating knocking. She must be there, ignoring him in all
her adorably stubborn glory.
I let my feet settle on the ground, attention pinned on the door as I wait
for her to come out.
A few minutes pass before we both snap to attention when someone else
walks into the hallway. But my eagerness to see Maven’s face turns to ash
when it’s just a redhead whose attention is laser-focused on Decimus. Her
aura is a sickly piss yellow.
“Well, hello, Baelfire,” she purrs, sashaying up to the agitated dragon.
“Lucky me, running into you here.”
Her intentions toward him couldn’t be more obvious from where I’m
standing, but I find myself curious to see how my quintet member will
respond when he thinks no one is watching. I’m always intrigued when
people show their true colors—and although I’ve sometimes observed
Decimus, Crane, and Frost over the years without their knowing, I’ve rarely
cared much about the outcome of their choices.
But now, their choices affect Maven. Anything that affects her interests
me.
“Hey, Sierra,” he grunts but doesn’t look away from Maven’s door.
“Gods, what a wild past couple of days, huh? I can’t believe the Seeking
is already over. Feels like we were talking about it while laying in your bed
just yesterday,” she says in a sultry tone, eye fucking Decimus and moving
closer. “Hard to believe that was three weeks ago. I haven’t seen you much
since then. In fact, I’m starting to feel used and neglected in this
relationship.”
At first, I’m sure Decimus will showcase his typical charm and smooth
things over with her. But his inner dragon must be in a particularly shitty
mood today because instead, he shoots her a warning look.
“The hell are you talking about? We hooked up once, and you fucked
my friend Grayson the morning after, right after you set my room on fire
and claimed it was from me getting overly passionate. And from what I’ve
heard, you’ve been getting plenty of attention from unmatched legacies. So
cut the manipulation shit and scram.”
I grin to myself at the way her jaw drops in outrage. She looks both
insulted and out of her depth. If Decimus wasn’t insufferably egotistical
most of the time, he might have earned a smidge of my respect with how
efficiently he called her out.
Sierra recovers and brushes off his words, stepping even closer to him.
“It’s true, we were never exclusive, but that’s because we wanted to see
what would happen at the Seeking. And now that we know…”
She lifts onto her tiptoes, throws her arms around his neck, and plasters
her mouth over his.
A ferocious snarl rips out of Decimus as he shoves her away, his lips
curled in disgust and fury.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
She stammers, trying to save face as she reaches up to trace her fingers
over his shoulders. “You seem pent up. Let me help.”
“I’m mated,” he snarls, batting her hands away. “Get lost.”
It’s a big deal for a shifter to declare himself mated. I applaud him in
Limbo.
 Sierra’s eyes widen before she throws her head back in a laugh. “Yeah,
right. You don’t have a mating mark. Besides, there’s no way you’re
actually mated to that frumpy, pathetic b⁠—”
Before she can finish signing her death warrant with those words, I
materialize and step forward, lowering my face to her level so she can see
just how much she does not want to fuck with either of us right now.
“Choose your next words very carefully. Insulting our girl will end with
your body found in a ditch.” Then I smile thinly. “Or parts of it, at least.”
The color drains from her face, and she makes a choking sound before
scrambling out of the hall without another word to either of us. It’s always
entertaining to me how strongly people react based only on what they know
of one’s reputation.
Though I suppose in my case, my reputation is fairly accurate.
Decimus swears at me. “How long have you been following me, you
creepy fuck?”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m only here for her.”
He scowls but turns back to Maven’s door, calling through it. “Boo? My
dragon is seriously about to break this damn door down to see if you’re here
or not. This is your last warning. Speak now or forever hold your peace.”
Wait. Does he not know whether she’s here?
Is our keeper missing?
I want to pass through her wall and check for myself, but the
dreamcatchers would rip me apart. I can feel their burn even from where
I’m standing. Damn that blood fae and his insistence that Maven keep her
privacy.
Fuck privacy. I need to know where she is.
Which is why I reach out and touch Decimus’s arm to send a jolt of my
power through him. If he were asleep, it would flood him with all manner
of disturbing parasomnia that would send him spiraling into mind-melting
madness, trapping him in an inescapable nightmare. But for the waking, it’s
merely akin to an overdose of adrenaline.
It has the exact outcome I hoped for, with him unleashing a draconic
snarl and smashing his shoulder through Maven’s thick mahogany door.
Whatever protective magic wards she left on it were on it apparently
weren’t very strong, which sours my mood further. I dislike the idea that
anyone could’ve burst in on her as we just did. While Decimus is gripping
his head, trying to clear out the lingering haze of mindless violence, I peek
past him into the room.
My darling obsession isn’t here.
Damn them all to hell.
The shifter whirls on me, teeth bared, and pupils shifted to a dragon’s
narrow slits as his rage boils up and he starts to lose control. He’s always
been terrible at controlling his inner beast.
“I’ll fucking kill you, Crypt. If you ever use that shit on me again⁠—“
“Where is she?” I cut in, utterly uninterested in hearing his slew of
threats.
His attention snaps back to the problem at hand, and he growls again,
breaking open the rest of her door to go inside and check more thoroughly.
I’m left waiting in the hall, glaring at the edge of a dreamcatcher I can see
just through the doorway. Certainly handmade by Crane. It reeks of blood
magic.
When Decimus reemerges, he looks even less in control. “Go look for
her in Limbo. Now.”
I go toe to toe with him, only vaguely aware that my building anger is
affecting the space around us. My light markings begin to glow, and he
stiffens when our clothes and hair begin wafting as if gravity is glitching—a
sign that I’m close to ripping a hole in Limbo. He’s seen it once, and from
the way he bites his tongue, he clearly doesn’t want to experience that
again.
“Tell me what to do one more time, dragon, and you’ll wake up with a
mind so twisted, you’ll pray the gods put you out of your misery. I already
searched for her aura and found nothing.”
His fury swaps abruptly to something like panic. “Where the fuck
would she have gone?”
Before I can strangle Decimus for letting the one and only person I have
ever felt anything for out of his sight, we both hear the sound of footsteps
echoing up the stairs at the end of this corridor. But just as before, it’s not
Maven approaching. It’s her shifter friend with wild blond curls—the one
with the fluffy pink aura like candy floss.
She spots us, and her eyes go wide. “Oh, shit. Did you guys just…break
that door down?”
“Kenzie.” Decimus sounds slightly relieved as he sidesteps me to
address her. “Please tell me you know where Maven is.”
 The lioness shifter hesitates, looking between us as her brow furrows.
“Actually, I came looking for her, too. I wanted an update on, you know…”
She gestures at us vaguely and then shrugs. “If she’s not in her room, she
might be at the eastern library or one of the greenhouses. And I know she
sometimes sneaks out to Everbound Forest when she thinks I’m not paying
attention.”
“Alone?” I grit.
The nearby forest is off-limits to humans, warded heavily by magic, and
regularly stocked with dangerous creatures of all kinds—including shadow
fiends that the Legacy Council sends here from the Divide. They are for
real-world practice during combat classes, but plenty of students have been
found ripped to shreds or never found at all after coming across fiends.
Kenzie shuffles, not meeting my eyes as she swallows hard. It’s a
typical reaction. Most people, even legacies, are frightened when my
markings start to glow. On instinct, they know it’s a bad sign without
knowing why.
Instead of facing me, she glances back at Decimus with an apologetic
wince. “I’m not sure. Have you guys tried calling her?”
“Fuck. I haven’t even gotten her number yet,” he huffs.
She cracks the tiniest smile. “Well, that doesn’t surprise me. She’s so
fucking weird about phones and technology—not to mention she probably
doesn’t want you guys blowing up her phone whenever she needs space…”
She trails off and looks pointedly at the door. “Speaking of which, she’ll
legitimately be pissed off if she sees this. Did you guys snoop through her
stuff?”
Would that I could. Just as I’ve never felt obsession before, I’ve never
experienced burning curiosity like this. But ever since seeing my darling
standing on the Seeking stage, her dark eyes bore into mine without even a
hint of flinching…not to mention her aura.
I’ve never seen an aura like hers.
What I told her was no lie. I’m dying to know what her dreams taste
like.
“My dragon is ready to hunt Maven down and barbecue anyone in his
path. Do you really think I’m about to stop and rummage through her panty
drawer?” Decimus scoffs. Then he pauses, clearly considering the idea as he
glances back into her room. “On second thought, do you know where she
keeps her panties?”
 Kenzie laughs and shoos him away from the door, wisely refraining
from doing the same thing to me. “Okay, look. I know newly matched
legacies are all protective when it comes to their keepers, but both can calm
your tits because I’m sure Maven is perfectly fine.”
“Are you?” I challenge, allowing my lips to curl up in a dangerous
smile. “Because my keeper is undoubtedly the top target of countless
legacies at this school who won’t wait for the kill ban to lift before making
attempts on her life to try to raise their chances of ranking above our
quintet.”
This shouldn’t be news to anyone. It’s common sense that highly
competitive legacies will try to wreck other quintets by targeting quintet
leaders. But Decimus clearly hadn’t put together how much danger Maven
is in because he goes stock still and shuts his eyes, breathing in and out at a
measured pace. He used to do the same thing when we were younger in an
attempt to remain in control of the dragon lurking under his skin.
The blood drains from Kenzie’s face, and she wrings her hands. “Shit.
You’re right. Um…okay, when was the last time you saw her?”
“Forty minutes ago. At lunch.” Decimus begins pacing.
“Oh! That’s not that long. You made it sound like she’s been missing for
hours. Maybe you guys are overreacting—“ Kenzie cuts off when she
makes eye contact with me again and gulps, taking a step back at whatever
she sees on my face. “Er, n—nope. Totally proportionate reaction. I
completely agree. All right, I’m going to go look for her, too, so just…don’t
break down any more doors. Okay?”
No promises.
The longer I go without knowing whether my dark little obsession is
safe, the more unhinged I feel myself becoming. Without waiting for
another word from either of them, I step back into Limbo and kick off into
the air, intent on scouring all of Everbound Forest for traces of Maven.

OceanofPDF.com
 11

MAVEN

I don ’ t know how much time passes before I’m brutally wrenched back to
the cold bathroom floor, choking back a sob. The side of my face is sticky
with cold blood. So is the hair plastered against my cheek.
Trying to keep my groan to a minimum in case someone else is in this
bathroom, I sit up and grimace at the amount of dark blood pooled around
me. That’s certainly enough to kill a normal person. When I reach up, my
head it tender—but the wound is gone.
I suppose that’s the one perk to my condition.
Unfortunately, my face, hair, and clothes are all stained with blood. If I
pass any vampires on the way back to my dorm, they’ll think I’m
advertising a free snack. I glance around the stall helplessly, but there’s not
much I could use for cleanup. No ingredients for a cleaning spell. And to be
honest, I’m shit at those, anyway.
Well. I suppose there’s one way I could spin this.
Pulling my cell phone from one of the hidden pockets in my baggy
sweatshirt, I wrestle with the damn thing until I manage to shoot a text to
Kenzie.
Help. Period came early. I look like I lost a fight with my uterus.

She responds immediately.

 OMG I was worried sick. Uteruses are such bitches. Where are
you? I gotchu.

For the first time ever, I thank the universe for modern technology. Then
I quickly send her which bathroom I’m in before cleaning up as much blood
as possible. No one else is in the bathroom, so I slink out of my stall to
wash up—but it’s still all over my clothes. I use up all of the paper towel
dispenser rolls, mopping up the mess.
Luckily, by the time Kenzie sweeps into the bathroom in a glittering
purple halter top and a miniskirt that shows of her long legs, I’ve made it
look like this was all just a horrible period.
“Poor thing, are you okay? What happened to your pretty olive tones?
You look so damn pale! No offense. Do you need painkillers? I brought
extra clothes and pads and shit, but I should’ve thought of painkillers!” She
smacks her forehead.
“You’re enough of a lifesaver as it is,” I insist, thanking her for the big
purse she hands me that’s full of some of my most oversized, comfy clothes
and anything else I could need. Of course, I can’t tell her that my pallor is
because I just lost a lot of blood.
By the time I’ve changed and reemerged, looking no worse for wear,
Kenzie is chattering as she sits on the bathroom counter, picking off her
manicure and swinging her long legs.
“—and so I made a list of pros and cons for all of my quintet’s emphasis
options. I mean, I would love to do something like covert operations or
even the holy guard just because it would keep us away from the Divide,
but we’d still be decently ranked in those careers—but I know Dirk would
love to be stationed at a more challenging active combat location. Vivienne
is okay with anything as long as we don’t have to wake up too early,
wherever we end up.”
She pauses her chatter to look me over and smiles. “Ta-da! You look
good as new. You’re still way paler than I’ve ever seen you, though. Do you
have skin like mine that goes pale in the wintertime? Maybe after
graduation next semester, we should all take a trip somewhere warm! Get
some sun. I’m thinking Bermuda. I’d love a beach vacation with my
matches. Speaking of matches…your guys were freaking out when they
couldn’t find you.”
I pause in stuffing my blood-soaked clothes into the bag and frown at
her. “Firstly, they’re not my guys. Secondly, did they bother you?”
 “They didn’t threaten me, if that’s what you mean. Although the
Nightmare Prince looked like he was debating ripping my head off a few
times.” She does a full-body shudder and shakes her head. “Gods. I still
cannot believe you’re going to have your heart bound to his. I mean, a lot of
people say that legacy doesn’t even have a heart.”
A sharp laugh escapes me before I can help it, but I quickly clear my
throat. “It’s a moot point because I’m not getting bound to any of them,
remember?”
She quirks a brow. “Oh, yeah? How many of them have you fucked so
far? And be honest! I’m dying for deets. As possessive as your matches are,
you’ve got to be having some hot sex.”
“No dice.”
Kenzie boos loudly, hopping off the counter and stretching to pop her
spine. “Okay, fine, you gloomy, stubborn monk. But still, I wanna hear
about everything.” Then she frowns and throws a glance at the door.
“Although…not sure now is the right time for a catchup sesh. I’m pretty
sure Baelfire is about to burn this place to the ground, and if the rest of your
quintet is as worked up looking for you, I doubt the “ladies only” sign will
keep them out of here.”
A couple of weeks ago, I never would have thought I’d say this, but
now I face Kenzie and sling the bag over my shoulder. “How about a girl’s
night out in Halfton? I could use a break from my not-a-quintet.”
Kenzie’s brow jumps up. “Uh…they were really worried about you,
Maven. And it’s true that you’re a target, so shouldn’t you at least reassure
them that you’re okay so they don’t needlessly worry? They’ll probably be
pissed if you just ghost them.”
“Even better.”
Understanding dawns on her face, and she blows out a big breath.
“Damn. You’re, like…really trying to get rid of your quintet, huh?”
“Yes.” As soon as fucking possible.
She snorts. “Then this is going to be even more entertaining to watch
than I imagined because there’s no way a bunch of scary, possessive alpha-
type legacies will let their keeper go.”
They’ll have to.
“Enough boy talk. Halfton or no?”
Kenzie mulls it over for another second, throwing another hesitant look
at the door.
 I want to go to Halfton tonight not only to get rid of my matches but
also to take my mind off the lingering ache in my chest from my most
recent episode. Plus, if I’m candid with myself, I’ve grown accustomed to
hanging out with Kenzie. I may have even…missed her over the last couple
of days since the Seeking.
I’m not above bribery, so I add, “Dinner is on me.”
“You drive a hard bargain, May,” she grins, grabbing my velvet-gloved
hand. She’s a true diamond for bringing me another pair. “Sure! Let’s go.
I’ll let my matches know I’ll be back later. But forget about dinner—let’s
stop at the Witch’s Brew while we’re there. I want to say hi to Jackie.”
Leaving Everbound University without running into any of my matches
is relatively simple since the castle is a veritable maze complete with
servants’ entrances and exits from hundreds of years ago. According to my
History of Monsterkind professor, Everbound Castle was built as a
stronghold not long after humans began colonizing New England. They’d
fled Europe to escape the bloody warfare of the monsters overrunning that
continent and tried to establish a humans-only society here in America…
which didn’t go according to plan since the monsters followed.
But after the gods put the Legacy Curse in place and forced legacies to
protect humans from the Nether, the castle was abandoned until the
Immortal Quintet turned it into the mandatory finishing school for anything
that goes bump in the night.
Leaving through one of the servants’ exits, we make our way down the
path that leads to a small parking area, where Kenzie’s old baby blue
Mustang is parked.
She once told me it was a gift from her first sugar daddy. Apparently,
she’s had a few of those.
Halfton is a thirty-minute drive away. It’s a nosy small town, the kind
that could either be the setting of a saccharine holiday movie about two
awkward humans falling in love or a horrifying murder mystery novel. It
has two or three ma and pa restaurants, a handful of bars, five stop lights,
one mall Kenzie calls the Pit of Fashion Despair, and one adorable little
coffee house called the Witch’s Brew whose owner, Jackie, is married to a
legacy.
Jackie is one of the few humans in Halfton who enjoys their proximity
to Everbound University. From what I’ve observed, the others are either
lukewarm or downright annoyed about it, as if it hasn’t been here for a few
centuries longer than they’ve been alive.
When we step into the coffee house, Jackie looks up and smiles from
where she’s carefully aligning cake pops in a display case. “Come on in,
you two! Kenzie, I just pulled a batch of those pumpkin spice cookies you
love out of the oven.”
I don’t know how Jackie remembers specific names since plenty of
legacies come to the Witch’s Brew so often. She rounds the counter, and I
watch as she settles her hands on her very pregnant belly.
“Yikes. You haven’t popped yet?”
Kenzie shoots me a wide-eyed shut up look, but Jackie just laughs.
“Nope. This is what I get for marrying a sexy-ass wolf shifter. You
know his kind is big on the whole breeding kink thing, right? Sometimes,
we get a little carried away. Goodness. Last time, it was twins. This time,
it’s triplets. But I couldn’t be more excited,” she sighs happily.
Twins and triplets?
I think my womb just flinched a little.
Meanwhile, Kenzie oohs and awes and asks what names they’re
considering as we each get a cup of hot chocolate and a pumpkin spice
cookie. Jackie gets a call and excuses herself, leaving us alone in our
favorite corner booth.
Well, it’s Kenzie’s favorite booth. She’s been coming here far longer
than I have since I’ve only been to Halfton a handful of times since arriving
two weeks ago.
“It’s sad that so many people consider legacy-human relationships
taboo,” Kenzie sighs. “I think they’re so freaking adorable. Anyway, spill. I
want to hear all about your schemes.”
There’s not much to tell, but I give her a quick recap about failing to
bore Silas and my gambit to make them all turn on each other by making
them jealous of Everett. I leave out the bit about the three girls confronting
me since she doesn’t need to know I’m officially on their radar.
When I finish, she nods thoughtfully, eyes straying to the storefront
window behind me. “And you think that playing head games will make
them start to hate you?”
“Yes.”
“Pfft. Somehow, I seriously doubt that. Just accept it, May—they’re
obsessed with you.”
 I set down my mug. “No. They’re obsessed with the idea of me. They
want a keeper to break their curses. Who I actually am is of little interest to
them.”
Not to mention, if they knew the truth about me, they might kill me.
She smiles evilly and finally pulls her gaze away from the window to
wag her brows at me. “Little interest, huh? Well, I’m pretty sure they
actually want you, or else they wouldn’t have stalked you all the way here.”
I stare at Kenzie in confusion for a moment before she flicks a look over
my shoulder. Sure enough, behind me and through the glass of the bakery
windows, I spot Silas striding through the town square, looking absolutely
lethal—not to mention out of place in such a human environment, with his
blood-red eyes and sinfully sharp good looks. Humans around here are
accustomed to seeing legacies, but they all dart out of his path like he’s a
shark among fish.
Even through the glass, I can hear the roar of a dragon in the distance.
Which means Baelfire isn’t far behind.
Hopefully, they’re pissed enough that they’ll finally understand they
don’t want me.
I’m so distracted with frowning out the window that when Kenzie
shrieks, I jolt in surprise, turning quickly to find⁠—
The Nightmare Prince is barely an inch away from my face, seated
directly beside me. I’ve never been this close to him before, and I swallow,
trying to ignore the alluring scent of leather and something intoxicatingly
sweet, like a plant I can’t identify.
“Sorry,” Kenzie says quickly, grimacing. “He just popped out of
nowhere. Scared me into spilling my hot chocolate everywhere. I’ll be right
back…plus it seems like you might need to have a little chat with your
quintet,” she adds sheepishly, shooting me an apologetic smile as she
hurries away to slip into the bathroom.
Crypt studies me, and I try to ignore his gaze lingering on my lips and
the way it makes my thighs clench without my permission.
“Where were you?”
His voice is a harsh rasp, surprisingly…emotional? That can’t be right.
“Odd that you don’t know since you’re stalking me from Limbo.”
But thank the fucking gods that he didn’t witness my little incident
earlier. I need to avoid him witnessing anything like that at all costs.
“Answer me, darling.”
 The bell jingles. I glance over, expecting Silas, but I’m surprised to see
Baelfire striding into the Witch’s Brew along with him. The shifter sure
caught up fast, and he barely spares the rest of the bakery a passing glance
before locking eyes with me and visibly relaxing.
As they approach, I can’t escape Silas’s intent ruby gaze. He scans me a
little too possessively—and then he abruptly halts in place just as he
reaches the table. He inhales deeply before swearing viciously.
“I’ll ask this only once. Why the hell do you smell like blood?”
The other two tense, and Baelfire also tests the air and snarls. Thanks to
his obnoxiously sizable muscular frame, he barely fits into Kenzie’s side of
the booth, and then he demands, “Are you hurt? Where? And more
importantly, who am I turning to fucking ashes tonight?”
Gods. They’re acting like I’m made out of glass. How laughable.
But I’m not about to correct them. It’s better that they think I’m weak
and helpless. They won’t want to hang on to a weak keeper, and the more
people underestimate me, the more opportunities I’ll have to do what I
came here for.
So, I take the easy way out and lie without blinking. “Menstruation
hardly warrants such extreme reactions.”
Silas frowns, skepticism coloring his tone. “I didn’t scent your period at
lunch.”
Ew. Blood fae are so fucking weird. “Aunt Flow popped in as an
unpleasant visitor shortly thereafter.”
Crypt vanishes from my other side without a word. I take it he isn’t the
type to ever say where he’s going or coming from. Some of the tension slips
away from Baelfire’s shoulders, and finally, his mouth pulls into a crooked
grin.
“I hear heat helps with cramping. So does sex. I’m more than happy to
help.”
I roll my eyes. “How noble of you.”
“We just want to help you, Boo. That’s it. Until you ask nicely for
more,” he adds, easily slipping back into his flirtatious charm now that he’s
not worked up over my safety.
Silas pulls a chair up to the end of the booth and looks over me carefully
as if he’s searching for any sign that I’m lying about not getting hurt. I
guess fae always have to wonder if other people are lying since they don’t
have that ability.
 His attention lingers on my hair, where it was matted with blood earlier,
and I don’t miss the way his tongue rolls over his lower lip—just once,
slowly.
Right. Blood fae.
But before he can call me out, Kenzie returns from the bathroom and
slides in beside me, flicking her gaze between the two intimidatingly strong
legacies. Even though she’s modestly ranked among the grad students at
Everbound, she’s known Baelfire for a while—but it’s evident by the way
she gawks at Silas that she doesn’t know how to make small talk with the
Garnet Wizard’s apprentice.
Baelfire seems to catch on to her hesitation and snags a broken piece of
cookie from my plate, popping it into his mouth. “Don’t let us interrupt
your girl talk. Just had to check on my mate after she went MIA.”
That does the trick.
“Oh my gods! You already call her your mate? That is so fucking cute,”
Kenzie croons, ignoring the daggers I’m hurling at her with my eyes.
“She is cute, isn’t she? I keep telling her that myself,” Bael teases,
tossing me a smug grin. Then he perks up. “Hey. You’re her friend. You
probably know her favorite ice cream flavor, right? She wouldn’t tell me
what it is.”
Kenzie tips her head. “Shit, maybe I’m a bad friend because I have no
idea. What is it, May?”
I’ve never had ice cream.
But if I tell them that, they’ll have follow-up questions. More questions
about my past means more lies. And it’s far easier to maintain a false
identity with as few flourishes as possible.
I’m just here for my mission. Keeping things simple is best.
“Vanilla.”
“There, see? That wasn’t so hard,” Baelfire grins triumphantly down at
me. One of his hands lifts to adjust the hair that’s fallen over my temple, but
he checks himself at the last moment and pulls it back. “All right. What else
does she like?”
This time, when I give her a meaningful look, Kenzie rolls her eyes and
chooses to back me up. “You’ll have to figure it out yourself, guys. I’m not
a snitch.” She lowers her voice to a stage whisper. “But a little birdie did
tell me that she likes a certain sexy, rich, ex-model professor.”
Helping to stir the pot? Not bad.
 I fight a smile when Baelfire’s amusement immediately drops away, and
Silas glares out the window. They say nothing, but I can take a wild guess
as to what they’re thinking. Legacies aren’t human, but they have the same
emotions. As much as legacies tote this idea of perfect groups who
complete each other, there’s no way that jealousy simply ceases to exist
among quintets.
If I focus all my attention on Everett, it’s just a matter of time before
they all snap.
And the sooner they give up on me, the sooner I can focus on fulfilling
my oath.

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 12

SILAS

I’ m unwell .
That must be the only explanation because as I sit in my private dorm
room preparing components of a tracking spell for my keeper, I can think of
nothing else but the scent of her blood from earlier.
She lied to us. I’m sure of it. That scent was all over her, lingering in her
hair, taunting me as she brushed off any concern about her safety.
But something happened to make her bleed.
Setting down a vial of banshee tears, I rub my face. Blood fae are not
vampires. We aren’t blessed with immortality or an array of heightened
senses—except for the ability to perceive magic. We smell it, sense it, and
crave the taste of it, which can only be found in magical bloodlines. Blood
powers our magic, whether we drink it or infuse it into our spells. It’s what
makes us the most powerful class of the fae.
I’ve never actively craved the scent of someone’s blood before.
But Maven’s…
My mouth waters and I suddenly feel feverish. My damn erection won’t
go down.
Trying to refocus, I flip through the blood-stained grimoire on the table
in front of me, my knee bouncing restlessly. The silence of my dorm
stretches on, broken only by the grating ticking of the grandfather clock in
the corner.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
 My breathing feels wrong. Too shallow. I straighten to try to inhale
fully, but that’s when my eyes snag on the dark curtains covering my
window. The way they’re bunched sends my pulse pounding behind my
eyes. The ringing in my ears muffles every other sound as I get to my feet,
clutching my bleeding crystal in my hand so hard that it pierces my palm as
I move toward the curtain.
Anyone could be in here. Watching. Laying in wait, the voices in my
head whisper.
Logically, I know my dorm is the most secure place in Everbound. I
went to exhausting lengths to ensure that before I enrolled. Thanks to my
magic wards, no one but myself can be admitted to this room.
But right now, I’m not thinking straight. My curse hums in my veins,
turning the air thick as sludge and stringing my muscles like a thread. My
heart pounds painfully against my ribs.
Not safe, the voices chant. Not safe. Not safe. Not safe⁠—
Finally, I rip the curtain down and glower at the nothingness left behind.
No one lays in wait with a knife intended for my back. Still, I scan the rest
of the room, pushing my fingers through my hair and trying to steady my
rapid breathing.
It’s getting worse. The end of next semester, when my quintet will be
bound together to break our curses…it won’t come fast enough. I wonder
which is worse, losing your sanity without knowing or being fully aware as
you slip away piece by piece, as I am now.
The sound of dripping draws my attention to my hand, and I finally
loosen my hold on the crystal so it stops drawing my blood. After a
shuddering breath, I make a split decision and tuck the crystal back into my
pocket before leaving my dorm room.
It’s late. Past midnight. The “student curfew” at Everbound is eleven
o’clock, but not a soul here pays attention to it, not even the instructors.
Still, the dim hall I walk is empty as I eye my surroundings, hands still
trembling in my pockets.
It’s just a shadow, Si, my mother’s voice echoes, but this time, it’s a
memory, not a voice in my head. That’s what they’ll tell you. They think it’s
silly to be afraid of the dark. But you and I both know that darkness is
danger. After all, it’s easier to kill when they don’t see it coming.
My father’s voice is firm. That’s why we never turn out the lights in this
house. We don’t want to find out what our curse will drive us to do to each
other in the dark.
“There you are,” Everett’s voice cuts in, startling me.
I don’t realize I’ve moved until he inhales sharply. I have him pinned to
the wall by the neck, my bloodied crystal poised above his carotid artery,
pressing into his skin enough that he doesn’t even dare to swallow. Or
rather, he can’t because I’ve cut off his oxygen. To his credit, he doesn’t
overreact or struggle.
When Baelfire speaks, I realize he’s standing just beside us. “Silas.
Relax.”
They just turned the corner and took me by surprise. Odd that they were
looking for me together since they’ve been on terrible terms for years.
Not odd. They’re both waiting for the right moment to rip your heart
out.
Everett makes a slight sound in his throat when my unsteady grip finally
causes the crystal to prick his neck. When it does, frost blooms across his
skin, traveling to coat my hand and seal his injury before it even has the
chance to bleed. A small flurry starts in the hallway, a subtle warning that
he’s not as calm as he’s acting.
“I don’t think Maven wants you choking the life out of her so-called
favorite. Even if I do understand the sentiment behind it,” Bael grumbles.
Maven.
Right. I was coming to find her.
Gradually regaining control, I drop Everett and step back, warming my
frozen hand in my pocket as Baelfire raises a brow.
“Judge all you like. Your curse comes with a balm to bear it easier. Mine
has no such thing.”
Everett inhales several gulps of air and brushes himself off, shooting me
a nasty look. “Dick.”
“You know better than to take me by surprise.”
Bael grunts in agreement but gestures at me. “We were going to finalize
our wagers, but you look like shit. Maybe you need to take a beat.”
He shouldn’t say things like that out here in the open. Someone might
overhear that I’m vulnerable. Instead of pointing that out, I lead them to a
hallway that branches off the nearby library. I know voices don’t carry here,
and this hall is often forgotten. Pricking my finger to lay a cloaking spell, I
turn to face the two of them.
 But I don’t let go of the crystal. If ever they were looking for a time to
get me alone and finish me off, this would be it. They know I’m off balance
right now, but that doesn’t make me less dangerous in a fight. Quite the
opposite.
“I’m joining the wager,” Everett finally says.
Baelfire rolls his eyes. “No shit. I figured you would since my mate has
taken an inexplicable liking to you. What’d you even say to her earlier, at
lunch?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know? Anyway, it seems she’s already picked me
first.”
I shake my head. “Not officially. This competition needs a clearer
finishing line.”
“Fine. We’ll say whoever fucks her first wins.”
Baelfire’s snarl is fierce. “I swear on all six gods, if you try to pressure
Maven into sleeping with you, I’m going to fucking⁠—“
“Ever the hypocrite,” I interrupt. “You’ve been panting after her like a
bitch in heat. If anyone is going to push her limits before she’s ready, it will
be you. And if that happens, you’ll be answering to me.”
Bael’s eyes connect with mine, and the feral edge of violence in them
makes it clear he’s just as ready for a fight as I am right now. Perhaps he
needs to go hunting again.
“I’d sooner cut off my dragon’s wings than upset Maven. We should be
more concerned about Crypt crossing her lines about physical touch before
we even know why she has them there. Who’s to say he won’t manipulate
her dreams to make her do shit that she’ll wake up horrified about?”
As if on cue, the Nightmare Prince appears beside us. Everett flinches
back as the room chills, and I swear viciously—this is precisely why I need
to break my curse. Usually, my magic would be far more potent, and I
would have known he was within my magic wards, even in Limbo.
“Fucking creep,” Bael balls his hands into fists.
The incubus casually boosts himself up to sit on a large decorative
antique console table, which I’m fairly sure is older than his immortal
father. He yawns.
“You didn’t expect me to miss our little pow-wow, did you? If it
concerns Maven, it concerns me.”
“Yeah, right,” Everett scoffs, adjusting his tie. “Not a single thing has
ever concerned you. You’re incapable of feeling anything remotely like an
emotion, which is exactly why you’re a well-documented psychopath.”
“That has been my lot in life,” Crypt agrees breezily. “It’s been quite
boring. Until now. Our little keeper is far from boring. Just look what she’s
done already, bringing us together to speak like civilized monsters in the
dark of the night. One would almost think our past slights were all water
under the bridge,” he smirks at me.
Past slights.
An insultingly mild term for what he did to my family.
“Whatever you say, freak. Moving on to final bets,” Bael folds his arms,
glancing between us. “Frost, I still want that land. And from Silas, I’ll take
a custom spell of my choosing whenever I ask for it. Crypt, I’d want you to
make a godsdamned blood oath to stay the fuck out of my head for the rest
of my life.”
Blood oaths are utterly powerful—said to transcend lifetimes and even
the five planes of existence. Virtually unbreakable, it would ensure even a
deviant like Crypt would have to abide by the magical contract.
“There you go, flattering yourself again,” Crypt muses. “There’s
nothing interesting in your subconscious anyway. Silas’s is far more
entertaining.”
My fists clench. I’m perfectly aware that he’s just needling me. He’s
never been in my subconscious. But everyone present knows that his just
suggesting the idea is going to have me paranoid out of my mind for weeks.
Everett leans against the wall, tucking his hands in his pockets. “I
haven’t decided what prizes I’ll claim, but expect them to take a toll.”
I nod. “I still want the scales. And from the Frost estate, I’ll want free
rein to browse your family’s ledgers and past records.”
Everett scowls at this, which doesn’t surprise me. Thanks to the
Decimus family, the Frosts have been exposed for many illegal activities
over the years.
I turn my glare to Crypt. If my nerves were chalkboard, he’d be the
jagged nails scraping across every square inch of it.
He grins. “Go on. We all know I have nothing of value.”
“If I win, I get to enter your subconscious.”
Baelfire whistles low. For once, the arrogant amusement on the
Nightmare Prince’s face drops away. The other two look between us, as
curious as I am if this will drive Crypt to showcase his least enjoyable
character trait—unpredictability. It’s impossible to tell when he’ll snap,
going from zero to a hundred in the blink of an eye, but we’ve all seen it at
one time or another.
Which is why I want to see inside his head. For incubi, letting someone
else into their subconscious is incredibly rare, usually only done with a
spouse or their chosen muse. Someone they trust completely.
But if I can figure out what makes him tick, perhaps I won’t end up
losing my temper and killing him after we’re all bonded and capable of
telepathic communication. Particularly powerful quintets can experience
one another’s thoughts, feelings, desires, and so on. Unless I find a new
way to deal with Crypt in his subconscious, I’ll end up killing him if I have
to share any amount of headspace with him.
I’d like to spare Maven that unpleasantry.
Instead of responding to the severity of my wager, Crypt looks out the
window of this moonlit hallway as he pulls out a cigarette and a lighter, the
brief flash of flame fading before he takes a long drag and exhales a puff of
smoke. The sickly sweet scent of it tells me it isn’t a regular cigarette—and
I frown when I can’t identify what it is he’s smoking. I know every type of
tobacco, herb, and plant under the sun, so what could it be?
“Odd that Maven arrived so late in the semester, isn’t it?”
Quite the topic change.
“Maven is an atypical caster,” I explain, having read her sparse file of
student records earlier. “She manifested magic from a fully human
bloodline less than a month ago.”
Everett’s pale gaze flickers to me. “You’re saying Maven came from a
human family?”
“Yes. Why?”
He shuffles uncomfortably. “It’s nothing.”
“Just spit it out, Snowflake,” Baelfire huffs.
“Fuck off, dragon,” Everett mutters, just as irritated by the nickname as
he was when we were children. “Fine. There’s a rumor going around the
faculty here that the legacy-human peace treaty is in peril. Supposedly, a
political movement among humans advocating for war with our kind has
been gaining momentum. They view legacies as monster spawn that should
be eradicated or sent back to the Nether. They seem to think that’s all the
Nether wants, is our kind back.”
“There’s always some tension between legacies and humans,” I
acknowledge.
 “Well, it’s gotten worse. To the point that all staff members and
professors have been asked to look for anything suspicious among atypical
casters or any other students who might sympathize with that political
movement and cause trouble at Everbound.”
“Define suspicious.”
“Vague backgrounds. Antisocial behaviors. Inexplicable disappearances,
open rejection of legacy traditions or culture, advocating for human
ideologies among other grad students, open contempt for the Legacy
Council or Immortal Quintet, and anything else out of place,” Everett
summarizes.
For a moment, that sinks in for all of us, and then Crypt hums
thoughtfully.
“Come to think of it, Maven’s background is something of a question.”
Bael growls. “She’s not a fucking sympathizer.”
Crypt shrugs. “I wouldn’t care if she was.”
“You wouldn’t care if Maven was a fanatic who thinks our kind is better
off dead?” Everett asks, incredulous.
Instead of answering, the Nightmare Prince tips his head as if listening
to something nearby. His intricate markings—which I can’t ever remember
him not having, even as children—begin to glow softly. It sets off my
paranoia again, wondering if I’ve missed someone approaching.
But after a second, he hops off the table, steps on the butt of his
cigarette to put it out on the marble floor, and announces, “Our reputations
have drawn too much attention to our keeper. Some imbecile two floors
away is dreaming about besting our quintet by getting his hands on Maven.
I’m starving, and his psyche will make the perfect snack if I don’t break his
neck first.”
For once, none of us has a single protest, and he drops into Limbo in the
next second.
“Who even cares if the humans are getting antsy?” Bael huffs, getting
back to the matter at hand. “They’re mortals. We’re legacies. I’m pretty sure
we’d trump them if war broke out, which I doubt will happen anytime soon.
So even if Maven is a sympathizer, which she isn’t, there’s no harm, no
foul.”
I don’t reply, distracted as I consider whether Maven could really be
part of the anti-legacy movement. Admittedly, she does fit some of the
criteria for suspicious behavior.
 “I’ve worked among humans more than the rest of you,” Everett says,
shaking his head. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking they’re harmless.
They far outnumber legacies, and they’re more resilient than our kind gives
them credit for. They pose a real threat if things get worse.”
“I’m more concerned about how little we know about our keeper than
her political views,” I decide. “Something is keeping her from accepting the
quintet as a gift from the gods. I want to find out what that something is.”
“And I want to know what’s made her so damn wary of physical touch,”
Baelfire adds.
That catches my attention. “What do you mean?”
“The gloves. That little frown she makes whenever anyone gets too
close—and I mean anyone, because I watched her with Kenzie earlier, and
even her closest friend sitting too close made Maven uncomfortable. Don’t
tell me neither of you have noticed that our keeper avoids physical touch
like it’s the plague,” he grits, looking between us.
I hadn’t. But all the reasons my brain supplies for why she might be
touch-averse make my fists clench.
“She didn’t seem wary of me earlier,” Everett drawls.
Baelfire scowls. “Yeah, well, enjoy her while you can, Snowflake.
Because I’m going to charm my mate’s socks—and hopefully panties—
right off.”
The professor rolls his eyes. “My competition is an egotistical man
whore of a dragon, a psychotic dream demon, and a pointy-eared
bookworm with trust issues. Something tells me I’ll be just fine.”
They continue bickering, but I’ve had enough of this. I leave them and
make my way to Maven’s dorm room several halls over. But when my eyes
lock onto her destroyed door, a wave of panic and paranoia capsizes any
rational thought in my head.
It’s just like earlier when Baelfire finally told me she was missing.
She’s dead, a voice whispers in my head.
They got her. They destroyed her, and they’re coming for you next.
You lost your keeper. You’re stuck with us, another voice triumphs.
Nausea curdling my stomach, I rush to the opening, ready to step
through the door and find Maven⁠—
But I promptly step on a box of chocolates.
I scowl and pick up the crushed box. Someone must have left this out
here for her.
 “Just because there’s no door doesn’t excuse you from knocking.”
Blinking, I realize Maven is watching me through the doorway with her
poker face intact. She has a bag slung over her shoulder and shoes on,
standing like she was just about to exit before I so gracefully slammed into
her magical defenses.
The sight of her melts the tension away from my temples and chest. The
ringing is gone. The shadows are empty. I breathe again. Unfortunately, my
godsdamned erection returns with a vengeance—even though she doesn’t
smell like blood anymore.
She must have showered.
Gods above, the thought of Maven in the shower is not helping with the
painful pressure against the fly of my pants.
I clear my throat. “I was just…”
“Stalking me. At night.”
“Yes,” I admit with a sigh, unable to tell anything but the truth. But then
I notice she’s dressed in day clothes, about to leave her room well after
midnight. That’s…odd.
Some might even say suspicious.
“Were you going somewhere?”
“Not that it’s your business, but yes.”
“Where?” I pry anyway.
An anti-legacy sympathizer meeting, perhaps? voices whisper in the
back of my mind.
She doesn’t miss a beat, holding my eye contact with exasperation
staining her voice. “In case you didn’t notice, my door is in splinters
because the assholes I rejected think they’re entitled to break into my
personal space when they don’t know my whereabouts. You try sleeping in
a dorm with a gaping hole for all passersby’s viewing pleasure.”
The idea of sleeping where anyone could peek in sets off my paranoia—
but the idea of them being able to watch Maven while she’s in a vulnerable
sleeping state?
Unacceptable.
“You’ll sleep in our quintet apartment tonight.”
“Hard pass.”
She steps out around me, making her way down the hall, but I keep up
easily. “Pass? Where else would you stay so late?”
“Kenzie offered a spare room in her apartment.”
 My keeper staying with another quintet? I don’t care how much she
trusts her shifter friend. The others might slit her throat in her sleep to get a
head start on the quintet rankings next semester.
That thought has me reaching out to grip her arm before I can think
better. “Absolutely fucking not.”
Maven halts and faces me slowly, something flaring in her eyes that I
haven’t seen before. Something intoxicatingly dark and…unexpectedly
dangerous. It’s as if some level of her facade has slipped, and she’s rearing
her true personality for the first time.
When she looks pointedly at my hand on her sleeve, I slowly remove it.
Baelfire was right. Touch is a trigger for her and yet another thing I need to
understand.
“Let’s get something straight, Crane. I give exactly zero fucks if you
don’t like where I rest my head. Whatever interrogation you have in mind to
try to understand my motives for rejecting all of you, it will wait. This has
been a shit day, and I’m exhausted.”
She’s not at all the reserved wallflower we all initially took her for.
But although her tone is savage and her glare could kill, something in
my chest softens as I study her. I can tell she truly is tired. That’s not a lie. I
can’t stand that she has no place to stay tonight because of those bastards’
reactions to her earlier absence. I’ll take care of her door myself.
She’s right. It’s late, and I should leave her be because the longer I stand
here with her, the more I don’t want to watch her walk away. I’m just
procrastinating leaving her presence because I don’t want to be sucked back
into the void of paranoia that I’ve been existing in without her.
“Forgive me,” I murmur. “Sleep well.”
Maven walks away, leaving me with a budding feeling that I have no
idea how to handle.

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 13

MAVEN

H eavy , slow heartbeats echo in my ears until I jolt awake soaked in a cold
sweat, shaking from the residual monsters clawing at my mind. When my
magical alarm spell dissipates, I roll out of Kenzie’s spare bed and catch
myself on the floor in a plank position, inhaling deeply before dropping into
my usual reps.
Push-ups, crunches, burpees, squats, lunges, tricep dips, mountain
climbers…
The list goes on.
Repeat, repeat, repeat.
Finally, when the sun is just coming up outside, and my core and limbs
are on fire, I drag myself to her quintet apartment’s sizable shared
bathroom, grateful for the icy-cold blast of water overhead that washes
away all traces of the horrors that haunt my nights. A brutal workout routine
first thing in the morning is the only thing I know to calm myself down
after my nightmares. It helps that it’s the same routine I grew up on.
Toweling off, I toss on more of my oversized clothes and return to the
guest room, glancing at my phone charging on the nightstand.
Last night, I snuck out to a seedy bar in Halfton to track down the
number of a supernatural black market dealer. I need to obtain nightshade
root powder—a spell ingredient that is highly monitored by the Legacy
Council due to it being a potent ingredient used in so many outlawed dark
magic spells. All my digging and careful listening last night got me an
encrypted number to call for a warlock two states over.
I’m just glad Silas didn’t insist on escorting me to Kenzie’s apartment,
and it’s a good thing Crypt must’ve been busy eating dreams all night. I
didn’t sense him the entire time.
But how the hell am I going to get away from my not-a-quintet long
enough to call this warlock today? Not to mention, I can’t allow them to
witness me have an episode like the one I had yesterday. It’s already a
miracle that no one else, not even Kenzie, has witnessed that.
The sooner I break up the quintet and get them to appeal for a different
keeper, the sooner I can complete my mission without so many eyes
following me all the time. So today, to make them jealous, I’ll have to flirt
with a modelesque professor who also happens to be one of the wealthiest
legacies alive.
Boo hoo, poor little me.
A muffled sound nearby makes me tense. I frown and listen harder.
“Yes, yes, yes…” a breathy voice chants. Someone grunts, and I hear
something get knocked over before more panting ensues in the nearby
room. Someone else moans.
Sounds like Kenzie’s quintet is waking up, which is my cue to leave. I
didn’t mind crashing one night with them, but it’s a good thing I’ve already
sent a maintenance request to Everbound’s dormitory management to get
my door replaced as soon as fucking possible.
I tuck my phone in my back pocket, sliding on gloves from my
overnight bag as I step out the door.
I’m not even surprised to see Baelfire waiting for me. You’d think that
after I’ve given him nothing but brush-offs and purposefully let him spiral
yesterday not knowing where I was, he would lose the enthusiasm—but no.
Instead, his entire face lights up, gold eyes glittering as he falls into step
next to me.
“You still owe me three questions, you know. I’m cashing in on them
today.”
“Before or after you apologize for destroying my door?”
He grins not at all apologetically. “Crypt’s more to blame for that than I
am. So. Three questions. Ready?”
Stop being so fucking persistent. I’m tempted to find you charming.
 But I can’t say that, so instead, I tell him, “Make them bland. They’ll
suit me better.”
“Please. You’re the furthest thing from bland, my sexy little Boo.”
My neck feels unusually warm. Which is terrible timing because we’ve
just passed into a large corridor full of legacies who keep sneaking glances
at us. Bael is used to being high-profile, but I’m looking forward to being
done with the shifting eyes and whispers that carry my name.
“Just ask your damn questions before we get to my combat course.”
“All right. What was your family like?”
“Dead.”
He winces. “I meant before they…you know.”
“I don’t remember. I was a baby when they passed.” Which is a mild
term for what happened to my parents, or so I’ve been told.
His voice is softer than I’ve ever heard it. “That’s really shitty that you
didn’t even get to know them. Who raised you, then?”
I hesitate momentarily before deciding it’s probably better to get this
over with. “I was adopted by a strict man who wanted a family but never
got the chance until he found me.”
“Was he a good father to you, at least?”
Gods. I don’t even know where to start with that question.
“There’s far worse out there. He did his best. And now you’re out of
questions.”
We’re approaching the door that will let out to the training grounds. He
slows and drops his voice to a whisper.
“Wait—one more. And please, please, please answer this one. Because I
know it’s invasive, intimate, and borderline rude to ask, but my inner
dragon has been hell to put up with for the last couple of weeks since I first
scented you, and I just need to know.”
“Know what?”
Baelfire stops, prompting me to pause, too. He leans close until his lips
nearly brush my ear. The heat from his body wraps around me, along with a
pleasant musky scent like singed cedar wood.
“Are you a virgin?”
Why does his voice have to be so gravelly and sensual? Its raw hunger
sends warmth tingling over my skin, settling low in my belly. Instinctively,
I press my legs together in an attempt to keep Bael from scenting what he
just did with his heightened shifter senses, but when I hear his soft groan, I
know he can smell the arousal I’m trying to hide.
“Damn it, Maven, it’ll be so embarrassing to walk out there with this
raging boner,” he rasps.
It’s difficult to steady my voice. “Then go attend one of your classes.”
“No. I want an answer. Do I get to be the first to worship and spoil the
fuck out of your sweet pussy? Or do I get to put anyone who tried to please
you in the past to absolute shame? I won’t touch you until you tell me to,
but I want to know how to fantasize about fucking you when I jack myself
raw later. Gentle and sweet for a virgin or rough and hard for my mate?”
Oh gods.
I was not prepared for dirty talk first thing in the morning.
My pulse is pounding, and against everything I know I should say or do
to push away Baelfire—because he is absolutely overstepping with this
question—I dare to look up into the scorching intensity of his full, hungry
focus. He’s leaning down, so our faces are too close together. If I lifted on
my tiptoes, our lips would brush. I’d be kissing someone for the first time in
five years.
I’m supposed to be nothing but deadly calm. I’m supposed to feel
nothing.
Because gods, if I let myself feel this, just for a moment…
Stop wanting him. You can’t do this to them.
“Aren’t you going to answer him, darling?” Crypt asks, materializing
right beside us.
I’m ashamed to say I gasp and startle away, but at least Baelfire’s string
of obscenities mostly drowns it out as he whirls on the Nightmare Prince
with a murderous expression.
“Get your own damn time with Maven,” he snaps, muttering something
about a cockblock.
“All my time is Maven time,” Crypt says jovially, offering me a hand. I
notice the tattoos circling his wrist curl inward to splay across his palm, a
display of swirling symbols and stars that twist around each of his fingers,
as well. “Did you enjoy the chocolates, darling?”
It takes a moment to register that he must have left the ones Silas
stepped on. Did he do that because of the whole fake period thing? That’s...
Whatever. At least he broke me out of what was almost a huge mistake.
Composing myself, I brush past him and ignore Baelfire’s protests as they
both catch up with me. Unfortunately, I run into another one of my matches
before I can even step outside.
Silas straightens from where he was leaning against the wall by the
vaulted exit. His scarlet irises brush over every inch of me before hardening
into a sharp, warning glare as he glances over my shoulder at the others.
“If they’re bothering you, tell me. I’ll cast a restraining curse to force
them to keep their distance.”
“Please try,” Crypt says. I don’t bother glancing over my shoulder to see
his expression since I’m sure he’ll have that same dark smirk that seems to
get under Silas’s skin.
I walk right past Silas, too.
Trailed by three legacies who couldn’t define rejection if they had a
dictionary shoved up their asses, I make my way to the back of a large
cluster of legacies. The air is brisk today, flurries falling from the white sky
in halfhearted gusts of wind that rustle the barren branches of nearby trees.
We’re in the farthest reaches of the training grounds today, at the edge of
Everbound Forest, so it comes as no surprise when Coach Gallagher, the
combat instructor, announces that today we’ll be training in the woods.
“Think capture the flag, only today you will each have a flag for
someone else to take. The normal restrictions and limits apply—no severe
maiming. And don’t forget that the no-killing policy is still in effect!
Legacies caught killing will be punished accordingly, but minor broken
bones, cuts, burns, and such is fair play.”
I almost snort out loud. The no-kill ban at Everbound is always weak,
but during combat training, most people ignore it completely. It’s not like
any of the homicidal monster spawn attending will get expelled from this
very mandatory finishing school. Everyone here craves violence and
competition. I wouldn’t be surprised to see a corpse or two after the training
exercises, especially now that everyone will be trying to weaken newly
formed quintets.
“You’ll all be sectioned into specific quarters of the forest to begin
courtesy of a faculty member’s spell, which is already set up, and the magic
wards around the perimeter of Everbound Forest will keep you in there until
the time is up. Keep an eye out since a pride of manticores was transferred
into the woods from New Zealand a couple of days ago, and this is their
hunting season. Whoever returns with the most flags will be awarded 20
points.”
 Legacies murmur to each other because that’s a significant number of
points—enough to move someone up the rankings a couple of spots.
Everbound University doesn’t use a standard grading scale. Instead, it’s all
about placing near the top of the class because that gives you and your
quintet higher priority in choosing a career after graduation and the
mandatory active assignment all legacies have. Quintet rankings don’t start
until next semester, but individual student ranks are factored into their
groups.
The coach is still talking, but Bael leans toward me to whisper, “You
can have my flag in exchange for the kiss I almost got back there.”
“The only thing you almost got was busted dragon eggs.”
He throws his head back to laugh heartily. I hate that his laughter is so
contagious because keeping a straight face around them is already getting
hard enough.
Silas is observing the forest to our right as if he’s already planning the
best strategy. “Take my flag for free.”
They really must think I need all the help I can get. I’m not about to tell
them how wrong they are since I want them to underestimate me, but it’s a
challenge to keep from rolling my eyes.
Crypt notices my expression. “Our keeper prefers to earn her own
stripes. Isn’t that right?”
It’s annoying that he thinks he can read me. It’s also annoying that he’s
right this time.
To distract myself, I sneak a peek at the other students here. I still don’t
know the names of most legacies in my classes since I’ve only been here
for two weeks, and I rarely talk to anyone besides Kenzie, but the first
person I make eye contact with several yards away is none other than
Sierra. The redhead who said she would steal my quintet away. For
whatever reason, she appears even more pissed off today, her savage glare
flipping from me to the guys surrounding me and back. When she notices
me looking, she sneers and flips me off.
What a treat she is. Guess I’ll be seeing her in the woods.
Right beside Sierra is a new quintet, fully formed with five legacies
from the Four Houses. They, too, have a female vampire keeper with four
males. But the stark difference between their quintet’s dynamic and mine is
obvious as I watch a guy holding each of her hands, one pressed behind her
whispering something in her ear that makes her laugh, and the fourth
grinning at them all like a lovesick idiot.
They’re all beautiful—seriously, they could be the metaphorical poster
child for bound quintets. The guy on the right kisses the vampire, and the
one on her left immediately turns her head to steal her lips for himself. They
touch each other so eagerly and freely.
What would that be like?
I look away quickly. That’s not for me. I need to stay focused.
“You all right, Boo?” Bael asks, bending to try and catch my eye. “I
have a couple of friends in the quintet you were staring at. If you want me
to introduce you to their keeper, you two might hit it off, and then you’d
make a few more friends⁠—“
“I don’t do friends.” That’s another one of my mottos, one I won’t
budge on.
Silas tips his head, lips twitching. “Then what is Kenzie?”
“A close acquaintance.”
“And another thing,” Coach Gallagher adds, speaking over everyone. “I
know you’re all getting nice and cozy with your new matches since the
PDA here is fucking insane, but the quintet rankings don’t start until next
semester. So I’m fine with all you additions who tagged along today, but
this is an individual training exercise. As such, quintets will be magically
separated at the start of combat.”
A chorus of complaints goes up from the others here. But I’m so
relieved, I could almost get over my haphephobic tendencies to kiss Coach
Gallagher.
Hmm. Maybe I should just to see if that messes with their heads. I
mentally add it to my list of possible ways to get my matches to leave me
alone.
“And remember that top weight classes of shifters are prohibited from
shifting in the woods for this challenge. I’m looking at you, Decimus. We
don’t want you burning down half the damn forest since there are a fair
amount of rare creatures living in there.”
Bael shrugs it off, shooting me a toothy grin. “Dragons are at the top of
the food chain, so I’m used to imposed limits. They like us at the Divide to
burn up all the fiends, but I’m a little big for other legacies to take on in
practice. But don’t you worry your spooky little mind. I’ll find you
quickly.”
 “Do yourself a favor and don’t.”
“Gotta keep my mate safe. And warm,” he adds, frowning as he realizes
I’m not wearing a coat over my baggy sweatshirt. “Want my shirt for an
extra layer? As a bonus, you’d get to see me half naked—and don’t even
pretend like you don’t want that. Feel free to touch as much as you want.”
Oh, my gods. There’s no point even trying to with this guy, is there? I
need to start being an absolute bitch starting now if I want to have any
chance of sparing all of us of this quintet.
I open my mouth to say something scaling, but Silas beats me to it.
“Feel free to go fuck yourself, dragon,” he mutters. He reaches into his
pocket—probably for his bleeding crystal. All blood fae have them. “A
warming spell will last longer. Hold still, Maven.”
I look at him sharply, taking a step away. “Don’t.”
His jaw clenches, and he’s clearly about to argue, but the coach instructs
all the legacies to line up outside the woods to prepare for the whistle.
“I doubt the separating magic will affect me in Limbo,” Crypt muses as
he stands beside me, studying the darkness of the woods ahead. “The
faculty were rarely so thorough with their spells during my time here. So
I’ll see you on the other side, my darling.”
“Stay with her,” Silas agrees. “Plenty of legacies here want to weaken
our quintet⁠—“
“We’re not a quintet,” I mutter, but he talks over me like that’s a non-
issue.
“—and Maven will be their first target if they find her. Kill first, act
sorry about it later.”
Baelfire pops his neck on both sides, and Crypt slips back into Limbo
without argument.
Apparently, they also think the no-kill ban is a joke. Good to see we’re
on the same page with that one thing, at the very least.
Glancing to my right, I see an incomplete quintet look away from me
quickly, whispering low to one another. Other legacies openly glare at us.
It’s clear no one is thrilled about going into this training with the Nightmare
Prince, Silas Crane, and a Decimus.
They assume we’ll work as a team. They see me as the weak one here,
so it’s easy to deduce that Silas is right. I’ll probably get more real combat
than I usually do in this class because instead of ignoring me, people are
going to actively try to kill me.
That puts a small smile on my face as I turn back to the woods.
The whistle blows. I step past the border, and magic whisks me away.

OceanofPDF.com
 14

MAVEN

T ransportation magic is a bitch .

For a moment, I feel like I’m being pulled in eighteen different
directions at once while the world twists in on itself, and then all at once, I
stumble to my feet in a section of barren forest floor just as a flag appears in
my left hand.
Righting myself, I glance down at the fabric marked with the
Everbound University symbol—the colors and signs of the Four Houses
with a golden heart in the center, uniting them all. Tucking it into my
pocket, I eye my surroundings.
Flurries filter down through the barren canopy above, swirling softly
past gray and white tree trunks marred with long scratches from
otherworldly creatures. Though the sky is pale far above, the wintry wood
surrounding me is wreathed in mist and shadows, hiding any dangers or
other legacies lurking nearby. Whenever a breeze passes through the twisted
treetops, it turns into spine-chilling whispers, like dozens of ghosts hissing
to beware. A few dozen yards away, Everbound River rushes past its rocky
banks, white with ice and forbidding rapids.
Utterly beautiful.
I don’t sense Crypt’s dark, chilling presence nearby, and I assume he
would have appeared by now if the magic hadn’t affected him. Which
means I’m really on my own as I wait for danger to find me.
Just the way I like it.
 Climbing up into one of the twisted trees takes only a minute, and then I
watch the ground below at my leisure, enjoying the sinister ambiance and
the chilly, fresh air. The white noise of the river is soothing.
And as I sit and wait, I mull over my options.
Using Everett to turn the guys against each other is a good plan, one I
still intend to use. Acting like a bitch might annoy them a bit, but I’m
guessing that I’ll have to do some significant damage for them to reject me
completely like I need them to.
Which makes me wonder…
What are their curses?
If I can exploit whatever weaknesses they have, they’ll be pissed. And
once they’re disgusted by me and move on, I’ll be able to do what I need to
do.
It’s not a pity party when I say they’ll be better off without me. It’s just
a fact.
A branch snaps several yards away, barely audible over the river. It
draws my attention to a legacy creeping through the woods. Not just any
legacy, though. It’s Sierra. She’s sticking close to the trees, on high alert.
I still don’t know which House Sierra is in, but watching her tiptoe
around makes me roll my eyes. Poor thing has no idea how to check her
surroundings. She’d already be toast if I were a competitive legacy who
wanted to up my ranks and took this flag-collecting exercise seriously.
Deciding to get this over with, I slip down from the tree, allowing my
feet to thud loudly against the forest floor. She doesn’t turn around. So, to
give her another nudge, I fake a sneeze.
That makes her whirl to face me.
There you go. Good job. You get a gold star.
“You,” she jeers.
“Me,” I agree.
She whips her hair back and takes a defensive stance, looking at me like
I’m a pile of manticore shit. “Bet you’re feeling pretty good about yourself,
huh? Thinking your men will show up in time to rescue you from me? Give
that shit up because it’s not going to happen. I hope you enjoyed them while
you had the chance, bitch, because you’re not walking out of here.”
I roll my eyes. “Make your move, Miss Steal Your Men.”
“Shut the fuck up,” she snaps, marching towards me. “You’re so
pathetic. I could kill you with my bare hands. And that’s just what I’m
going to do.”
She’s going for hand-to-hand combat. My favorite.
Her pace is lacking, but the moment her fist flies, I deflect it against my
forearm just as I turn, hooking the crook of my elbow with hers and using
her momentum to send her spinning away. She stumbles, scowls, and turns
again, this time launching toward me with her total body weight, arms
reaching for me.
It’s easy to catch her wrists, cross them, and pull until her face connects
with my bent knee. A sharp crack fills the air. She shrieks in pain and rears
back, broken nose streaming blood like a faucet.
“You fucking bitch!” she snarls, scrambling to her feet and baring her
teeth.
For a moment, I wonder if she’ll give up on hand-to-hand and shift into
something or pull some other surprise attack. Instead, she starts
monologuing again. Seriously. She just can’t seem to help herself.
“No magic? It must be weak as shit! Asscasters like you aren’t even real
legacies—just fragile little mortals. You probably came here thinking you
could fit in with us monsters, but you deserve to be with the rest of the
weak, pathetic little humans at the bottom of the food chain. Where they
belong.”
Of all the things she could’ve said, it had to be the one thing that
genuinely gets under my skin.
Still, I make no expression. Keeping a poker face is second nature since
it was drilled into me from such a young age. Instead of a resting bitch face,
I have a resting blank face.
“Words are cheap. Take your shot.”
She circles me while wiping blood off her face. “Wonder what it would
take to get your robotic plain-ass face to show some emotion. Gods, I can’t
even imagine all the awkwardness I’m sparing your matches. Especially
Baelfire. Take it from me; he loves to watch a girl’s expression when he’s
railing them,” she smirks. “We skipped a couple of days of class to stay in
bed a few weeks ago, but that dragon is insatiable. And the hickeys he left
all over me? Gods, that was so hot.”
She really doesn’t know when to stop talking. To my surprise, her words
are starting to make my skin itch. Which is annoying since there’s a good
chance she’s just lying to get me riled up.
“You talk too much,” I enunciate clearly, warning in my voice.
 She doesn’t get the hint as she circles closer, hands flexing at her sides.
“I’m doing them a favor by getting rid of you. This way, they don’t have to
fuck an emotionless, fake-ass legacy for the rest of their lives. It’d be like
fucking a corpse! And you? You’re better off dead anyway. Not one person
will mourn you when you’re gone.”
It’s just as unexpected for me as it is for her when I find myself
straddling her back, having rounded a kick to the back of her knees so she’d
fall flat on her face. She wasn’t prepared for my speed, but when she shouts
in anger and tries to reach back for me, I grip her forearm, plant my foot on
her upper back, and yank.
Her shoulder dislocates with an audible pop. It’s a beautiful sound.
“You’re wrong about three things. Let’s count them together, shall we?”
When I break the radius bone in her forearm, her scream splits through
the forest.
“One. I don’t want anyone to rescue me. Ever.”
She struggles underneath me, twisting her other arm back frantically,
but I snag that one, too, breaking her wrist and pinning it behind her in one
smooth movement. She chokes on pain and fights harder beneath me, but
it’s futile.
“Two. Humans are not weak, and they can be just as monstrous as
legacies.”
I move my foot from her upper back and land a kick to the side of one
of her knees at precisely the right angle, moving the bone out of place and
fracturing her patella.
Snap.
Satisfied with her scream tapering off into hysteria as she writhes, I
finally let her go, wiping my gloved hands on my shirt. She rolls over,
sobbing when she can’t move her arms right to get up, and her knee bone
slips to the side under her skin. With her in this state, it’s easy to lean down
and snag the flag hanging out of her pocket.
For a moment, killing her is a real temptation. If I don’t, she’ll come for
me again. She’ll end up telling others that I’m not the weakling I’ve been
pretending to be. I could also use the buzz of a kill.
But I learned from a young age what taking a life means. As annoying
as Sierra is, she’s just a jealous legacy who has no idea who she’s been
pissing off. She doesn’t deserve death…yet.
 “And three,” I sigh, looking out at the misty trees. “There is one person
who will mourn me. She’s a real softie and would probably tell me to make
nice with you. So, in her honor, you get to pick. Either get the fuck up, walk
it off, and never speak to me again…or try me one more time so I can put
you out of your jealous misery.”
She gives up on her attempts to get up, glaring at me with a beet-red
face as she hisses, “I can’t get up and just walk it off. You fucked up my
knee!”
“Be grateful I left one intact. Either limp out of here or pray someone
comes looking for you before a manticore has you for dinner.”
I start to walk away, ignoring her curse-filled shrieks behind me.
Turning my back on her turns out to be a small mistake, since she finally
manages to lurch up to a semi-sitting position. Just as I glance over my
shoulder, she flops one of her arms towards me, crying out from the pain of
the broken arm as she finally shows what House she’s in.
Elemental. Fire.
Shit.
The blazing inferno that encompasses me is powerful enough that even
though I dive away in record time, it still catches on my pants. I scramble to
pat them out, but elemental fire isn’t like normal flames. It’s similar to
Greek fire, quickly spreading.
Along with the flare of panic flooding me is exasperation. This bitch
just had to wait until the last moment to surprise me with this. Why
couldn’t she have whipped this attack out sooner? I never would have
engaged with her if I’d known this was her element.
Taking off in a dead run, I don’t give myself time to hesitate before
plunging into the nearby raging river.
Immediately, the fire singing my skin is snuffed out—but the subzero
temperature of the water shocks my body into near paralysis. The rapids are
far stronger than I’d anticipated, and I feel myself getting swept
downstream and sucked further down, the cold and pressure making it
nearly impossible to hold my breath.
Dying right now would be so inconvenient.
Just as water finally fills my mouth and nose, the swirling river calms
enough that I can kick hard, breaking the icy surface with a raw, painful
gasp. I’m so distracted with treading water that I barely register the shouts
ringing out—until someone dives into the water beside me.
 Strong arms encase me, and within seconds, I’m pulled onto the rocky
shore. Someone is trying to cradle me, but that is absolutely not fucking
happening, so I scramble away, blinking up in surprise…
At three legacies who look utterly pissed to find me in a river.
Silas is the one who pulled me out, and he looks ridiculously good
sopping wet, with water droplets clinging to his dark curls and his red eyes
a beautiful contrast against our wintry backdrop. He reaches for me again,
brows pulled down in a severe frown, but I wave him off as I cough up the
rest of the water.
Baelfire is agitated. “Fuck. Just breathe, Maven. There you go. Just⁠—“
He cuts off in a choking sound when I finally get to my feet, and when I
hear Silas swear on a harsh exhale, I realize all of their stares have gone
from furious to ravenous because...
I’m pretty much naked.
My dripping clothes are in tatters, my pants practically gone, and the
little left of my baggy sweatshirt barely holding together. The massive burn
holes in it expose most of my body, even though my black sports bra and
panties are intact. Although I know the sports bra is covering the center of
my chest where it is, I still instinctively lift my arms to cover that area.
The one part of me that hints at what I truly am.
“Fuck me,” Bael groans, voice hoarse. He reaches down to grip his
erection in his pants, looking pained.
I’ve worn anything and everything to disguise my figure since the day I
got to Everbound. I made sure everyone thought of me as a frumpy,
forgettable wallflower. And now this. The gods really do have a wicked
sense of humor.
The one upside is that I didn’t carry any special weapons into training
today, so I didn’t lose any of them in the river. Unfortunately, anything else
hidden in my pockets is now gone.
When I meet Crypt’s blue and purple gaze in a silent glare, he swallows
harshly and shoves Baelfire toward me. “Stroke off later. She’s freezing.”
Bael doesn’t miss a beat, stripping out of his shirt to offer it to me.
Holy shit.
He’s even more jacked than I expected. A glorious expanse of muscle
upon muscle, all under smooth golden-tan skin. The ridges of his abs and
the sharp V cut of his pelvis momentarily distracts me from the fact that I’m
in a similar state of undress.
 What would it feel like to touch all of that? That body pressed against
mine…
I kick myself internally. I already know it will be revolting.
Now is not the time to start second-guessing that aspect of my life.
Before they can notice where my attention has lingered, I grab his shirt,
careful to avoid touching him, and tug it over my head quickly. It’s so big
on me that the hem brushes my mid-thigh. It smells like him, that same
singed cedar scent I caught earlier.
“Shit, I’m so sorry. I was just…you’re just so fucking pretty that I⁠—“
He’s interrupted when Silas swears, gently but firmly grabbing my bare
wrist and lifting it to show the faint burns along my arm. Immediately, I
wrench my arm away, jaw clenching.
“Hold still,” he grits, pulling out his bleeding crystal.
He’s going to try to heal me. Everyone knows Silas Crane is among the
most powerful blood fae alive, so a healing spell would be nothing to him,
merely a prick of the finger and a drop of his potent blood. But the last
thing I need is someone trying to heal me with blood magic.
“No,” I warn.
Silas’s glare is heated. “I will not tolerate you being hurt. Ever. Now,
don’t move.”
He tries to step closer, and I let my poker face fall away so he can see
how pissed I’ll be if he tries to use magic on me right now. “Fuck off.”
When he moves toward me again, obviously more focused on my scant
injuries than the threat of my wrath, Crypt grips his shoulder and warns
coldly, “She said no, Crane.”
Silas whirls with a snarl, breaking the incubus’s hold on him, and for a
moment, I wonder if they’ll go for each other’s throats. Then Crypt turns
his back on the fae, a clear insult, and looks down at my bare hands.
“Your gloves are gone.”
No shit. “They burned off.”
He hums nonchalantly, but I notice that all of the pale markings in his
skin glow faintly purple before fading. Something in his violet irises
reminds me that this is my most unpredictable match. The one they call a
psychopath.
“Out of pure curiosity, and not at all because I’m about to feed them
their own spleen…who did this to you, darling?”
 That captures Silas and Bael’s attention, too, and now three high-profile
legacies are hanging on my next words, like hunting hounds salivating
before a chase.
“Just forget this happened,” I tell them before trudging away from the
river.
It really is cold out here, sopping wet like this. I wrap Bael’s shirt
tighter around myself, whipping almost frozen hair out of my face.
They don’t let me go that easy. Baelfire is suddenly on my right,
instinctively reaching for me and then pulling his hand back with a harsh
swear. “Damn it, Boo, your feet are going to freeze into solid blocks of ice.
At least let me carry you.”
I’m prepared to ignore him completely, but suddenly, I can’t think about
anything except what Sierra said. Baelfire and her in bed. The hickeys. Him
fucking her, watching her face.
Maybe she was lying, but just picturing all of it sends an entirely
foreign emotion roaring to the surface, scalding my skin worse than fire
ever could, and I do possibly the stupidest thing I have ever done.
I plant my back foot, turn, and punch a dragon shifter in the face.
Hard.
Baelfire reels back from the force, gripping his jaw as he freezes with
shock. Silas blinks between us at an equal level of surprise. Meanwhile, a
vicious smile curls one side of Crypt’s mouth up.
I shake out my hand, pretending like it doesn’t throb. It will definitely
bruise, but if I draw any attention to it, they’ll just be even more impossible
to shake right now.
And I have to get away from them quickly. Because I just slipped up. I
lost my cool, and I can’t let it happen again. My emotions are dangerously
close to the surface when I shouldn’t be letting myself feel anything at all.
I am nothing but deadly calm. I can’t want them.
“For the last time, you all need to fuck off.”
My voice isn’t as steady as I’d like, but at least my glare keeps them
from coming any closer. And as if the universe has finally decided to give
me a break, the echo of a shrill whistle sounds far in the distance, signaling
the end of combat training.
I march away.

OceanofPDF.com
 15

BAELFIRE

I rub my jaw in bewildered disbelief. I’m one tough son of a bitch, but that
punch was no joke. Maven walks away without a single glance back at the
three of us, but there’s no way she can’t feel how hard we’re staring after
her.
Can she blame us? She looks so godsdamned fuckable in my shirt, the
hem riding up slightly around the backs of her beautiful, toned thighs. I
can’t rip my eyes away from her delicious ass and the sway of her hips.
Mine, my inner dragon growls with need.
Hell yes, she is.
“Maven just…touched me,” I finally manage, coming back from my
shock as a grin splits my face.
“Yes, in precisely the only way any of us ever want to,” Silas mutters.
Then he turns and glowers at me. “What did you do to piss her off like
that?”
I start to tell him I did nothing, but then I hesitate, frowning. Did I do
something to upset Maven? Just the idea of mistreating my mate in some
unknown way has my stomach sinking, the growl of my inner dragon
causing me to bare my own teeth.
I leave them behind quickly, using my shifter speed to catch up with
Maven. She’s already stepping out of the woods when I reach her side,
fingers itching to pull her close. She looks cold, and I’m always warm.
 Before I can say a word to her, my heightened sense of hearing picks up
on Sierra Hill saying Maven’s name under her breath, mixed in with a string
of vicious cursing. She’s sitting on the grass outside the edge of Everbound
Forest, looking like shit and grimacing as another legacy pops her arm back
into place. She turns to glare as Maven passes by, but when she spots me,
her face turns even redder than it already was.
“Bael,” she whines, blinking away tears. “Come help me?”
Fuck that.
Her family has been friends with mine for years, so I’ve had a front-row
seat to Sierra’s manipulative personality and extreme temper tantrums for a
while. I hooked up with her once when I was bored and regretted it heavily
when she set my room on fire while I was still sleeping. Good thing I’m
fireproof, but none of my shit was. She’s toxic as hell.
I’m tempted to scare her straight so she keeps Maven’s pretty name out
of her mouth, but it’s a waste of my time when I need to make sure my mate
is okay.
Ignoring her to keep up with Maven, I follow her through a concealed
servants’ entrance that puts us in an empty, narrow hallway skirting one of
the wings lit dimly by fae lights. I’m so distracted by my inner dragon’s
sharp need to comfort our mate that I reach for Maven’s hand to gently turn
her to me.
“Boo? What⁠—”
She stops and wrenches her hand away, breaking my hold on her.
Although her face is still eerily composed, the flash in her dark eyes as she
glares at me has heat curling up my spine.
“Why are you so touch-averse?” I demand. “Why⁠—“
The words die on my lips as a possible reason crosses my mind. Why
else would she hate touching people unless something happened in her
past? What if she was…
Stark horror mingles with fury, and I suddenly can’t breathe. My dragon
reacts by nearly taking over, and I have to stop and cover my face with both
hands, fighting the searing burn spreading in my veins.
“Maven. Tell me it’s not what I think it is,” I manage in a strained voice.
“What?”
She sounds exasperated, but my brain has latched onto this possible
reason, running wild with it, filling my head with unwanted images and—
oh my gods. I’m going to be sick. My skin tightens, my eyes shift, and fire
burns in my gut.
“Baelfire?”
“You don’t want people to touch you. Is it because someone…did touch
you? In the past? Did they⁠—“
Fuck. I can’t do this. I’m going to shift any second, my temper running
out of bounds and burning me alive. I strain for control because shifting too
close to someone else is dangerous for them, and I’d sooner die than hurt
Maven.
“Just tell me who I need to kill.”
A couple of seconds pass where I’m in hell before she speaks.
“You’re jumping to conclusions. I wasn’t sexually assaulted.”
Thank all six gods.
The pressure in my chest loosens as relief courses through me. I’m
pretty sure I would have burned everything in sight down if I found out
anything like that happened to Maven.
Sometimes, I hate how intensely we shifters feel every emotion. It’s an
open invitation to my inner monster, especially on days when I haven’t
killed something to appease my curse.
After a couple more breaths, I rub my face and clear my throat before
regarding her. She’s watching me with her typical poker face in place—and
it’s a damn good poker face, but I know she’s not truly emotionless. She’s
just an expert at hiding how she feels. She didn’t ditch me just now when I
was about to lose my shit…so that must mean something, right?
“Okay, but I’m pretty sure you don’t wear gloves all the time because
you’re scared of cooties. So what is it, then?”
“Hmm. It’s odd. I distinctly remember punching you in the face and
telling you to fuck off, yet here you are.”
She folds her arms, but when she does, the fabric of my shirt she’s
wearing bunches and shifts, and my eyes again drop to her mouthwatering
thighs. Yet the hunger pulsing through my veins takes a spot on the back
burner when I spot a couple more light burns on her legs.
All shifters have an overwhelming urge to care for their mates, but
dragons have it twice as bad because of our naturally obsessive tendencies.
I have an instinctual need to covet, and now that I have a mate? All I want
is to take care of Maven in every possible way.
 “You should have let Silas heal you,” I huff, the sight of her beautiful
skin in that condition driving me to take another step toward her.
She takes a step back.
I sigh. “Why were you pissed at me, Boo? Did I do something wrong?”
“Hard to say. Right and wrong are subjective.”
“Why did you punch me?”
She tries to step around me but I cut her off. Lucky me, there’s not a lot
of space in this narrow old servants’ hall, so she doesn’t have room to get
by my much bigger frame unless she presses against me. Honestly, I’m
hoping she’ll try so I can finally feel her.
“Move.”
“Was it because I asked if you’re a virgin?” I guess.
Maven sighs. “I said move.”
“I won’t leave you alone until I know what’s upsetting my mate. For
once, I just want a straight answer. Tell me everything you’re feeling.”
“For the last time, we are not ma—“ She surprises me by huffing in the
most adorable way, half growling with exasperation before narrowing her
eyes at me. “You mean it? You’ll leave me alone if I tell you all I’m
feeling?”
“Pinky promise.”
I can’t look away from the anger in her dark eyes as she glowers at me.
“Fine. I feel frustrated. I feel desperate. I feel like breaking rules. I just
fucking feel.”
“And that’s a bad thing?” I shake my head, baffled by my little Boo.
I suddenly wonder if I’m hallucinating when her gaze drops to my bare
upper half and heats. She moves closer until we’re less than an inch apart.
Every part of me aches to reach out for her, especially when her eyes trail
slowly back up my frame, lingering on my lips.
I catch a hint of her mouthwatering scent—that soft, floral nighttime
aroma that instantly makes me harder than godsdamn steel. I inhale sharply,
trying to get another hit of her delicious fragrance…and I realize there’s a
note of arousal.
Fuck.
My mate is turned on right now.
“You have no idea how bad,” she whispers.
Only it sounds a hell of a lot like you have no idea how bad I want you.
 Lust crashes through me, along with a need to please my mate so fierce
that it’s dizzying.
“Use me,” I growl. “You said you’re frustrated, so use me. And before
you argue,” I cut in just as she opens her pretty little mouth. “I can smell
that you’re wet right now. Don’t deny it.”
My cock feels like it’s trying to bust straight through the zipper of my
pants. I don’t hide how turned on I am when I reach down to finally adjust
my throbbing erection, and heat licks down my spine when Maven’s eyes
follow the movement.
“However you want, wherever you want. Just use me. I’ll be your free-
use fuck toy, totally at your service,” I add with a grin.
I meant it teasingly, but her eyes flash, and the scent of her arousal
grows stronger. It’s almost enough to bring me to my knees.
“Gods, Maven,” I whisper. “Be honest. You like the idea of me totally at
your service, don’t you? Is that what you want? Fuck, baby, you can do
anything you want to me. I’ll be good. Just say the words.”
My mate shocks the ever-loving hell out of me when she hesitates and
then whispers, “I have one rule.”
I can barely think through how excited I am—and godsdamn it, if I’m
this keyed up from so little, what would it be like to get completely lost in
her?
“Anything,” I promise.
“I can touch you, but you are not to touch me.”
My heart thunders in my chest, mouth dry as I nod in agreement.
Something in Maven’s demeanor shifts, like a layer peeling away and
leaving her almost…vulnerable. Uncertainty radiates from her as she
reaches out her hand slowly, and I exhale hard when her bare fingertips
graze up the center of my chest, drifting until she places her palm flat over
my heart. I’m surprised it’s not echoing in this narrow passage because it
sure feels like it’s trying to slam its way out of my chest.
Shit, I think I might explode.
I watch her micro-expressions closely, and it’s like the second she can
feel my heartbeat, a tiny bit of her wariness fades—but I can tell this is still
difficult for her. I want to know why, but I’m already pushing her
boundaries, and asking more questions will drive her away.
She swallows and meets my eye. “How far is the quintet apartment?”
Oh, my gods. She wants a bed.