I pace up and down in the parlour, taking in the splendour. Gods, these people must be rolling in money. This room, like his bedroom, carries Kane’s stamp. Hardwood, area rugs, and beautiful, functional furniture. White. Again. I smile, and perch on the edge of a comfortable armchair, folding my hands in my lap, trying to get my nerves under control. I feel much more sure of myself now that my father left, but I have no idea what Kane’s going to say or do when he comes back. When he turned on my father, I almost stepped in to interfere, but a very strong instinct told me it would be the wrong thing to do. Normally, a man getting in my business like that would annoy me, but I enjoyed it when Kane grabbed my father and asserted his dominance, showing Daniel Jones who is really in charge around here. And it’s kind of comforting to know Kane has my back, that he’d never let anyone hurt me again. The door flies open and Kane steps inside, his face a little grim, b

Kane's POV: I smell her before I hear her. The stench of burning hair and flesh hangs heavy in the air. And I know it’s her I’m smelling. My stomach clenches with nausea. Dario growls loudly. There will be no stopping him today. I run down the hallway, her faint mewling sounds shattering my sanity to pieces. I kick her door open and freeze in shock. She’s curled up in a tight little bundle, her legs and arms bend at unnatural angles around her body, fingers pulled into claws. Barely breathing, she’s nothing but a raw, open wound. Her skin sizzles and turns black before my eyes. Oh Goddess, fuck. I’ve never seen anything like it. How can she endure all this pain and still be alive? There’s nothing I can do. No way I can ease her suffering. I bite back a cry of agony and walk backward out of the room, going straight to Lady Blaire. I don’t bother to knock. She’s sitting on the bed, her fingers digging into the mattress, tears streaming down her face. “Is this not against your laws?”

I wake from a nightmare, my fist jammed in my mouth so I won’t scream. Something I used to do when I was small so no one would hear me cry. The room is dark, but it doesn’t scare me as much as it did before. I have wolf vision now and can see everything just as clearly as I would have if the lights were on. “Are you okay?” Charmaine asks from the bedroom door. “Yes,” I croak through dry lips and drag myself into a sitting position. Usually, after a torture session that severe, I’d hurt for days afterward, but I feel okay. Almost normal. I don’t know if my wolf healed me, or if it has something to do with sleeping in Kane’s arms. “Both,” Suri answers helpfully. “Our mate stayed with us all day.” “Yeah, he’s a good one.” Gods I stink. Like rotten meat and onions. “I need a shower,” I say aloud. “Yeah,” Charmaine agrees. “Do that, then come watch a movie with me or something. We’ll have a proper girl’s night. Does Kane have wine up here?” “I have no idea.” I smile. “But there’s usu

Kane’s POV: We eat breakfast in relative silence. Willow is nervous and occupied with her own thoughts. “You have to go back to the witches today,” I say, more to break the silence than anything else. “I know. I don’t want to.” “You are their next high priestess, they will look up to you. They need you.” “I don’t want it. I don’t want to be their high-priestess.” I almost drop my fork in surprise. Three days ago, she ran out of here like a bat out of hell, now she doesn’t want to go back. The woman’s giving me whiplash. “What you want is not important. What you have to do is.” “What have they ever done for me? Honestly now, Kane? Lady Blaire heard my father torturing me, she felt my pain, and she did nothing.” “What about the fledglings?” What am I doing? Why am I trying to convince her to go back, when all I wanted these last few weeks was to keep her here? “You said you can change things for them.” Stop it Kane, fuck. She’s here. Now. And she’s finally willing to stay. “You ha

Now that I see him up close, I can tell that he’s not my father. His nose is different, his lips are fuller, and he has my mother’s ears, not my father’s. “Willow?” he asks, looking uncertain. You’d think a man approaching his two-hundredth birthday would be less bashful. “Are you okay?” “Yes--” I shake my head --“I’m just…flabbergasted, that’s a good word, let’s go with that.” He laughs softly, and my blood runs cold. He sounds just like my father when he laughs. “Imagine my shock when Lady Blaire phoned and asked me if I’m interested in becoming the new coven master.” “Why you?” He shrugs. “I suppose the others didn’t want the job.” “How many youth spells have you cast over the years?” It always bothers me when I meet a witch that cast youth spells. Aunt Mildred did it too, but stopped when she was ejected. “Three times. You've never done it?” “No. And I never will. I promised Kane.” “Hm,” he grunts. “Because of the baby blood? I told him you don’t need to kill the baby – we