Crimson Truth (Onyx Assassins 4)

And I couldn’t live in a world where Benedict wasn’t alive and well.

The rolling green hills of lycan territory came into view, and the breath in my lungs stalled. The bustling city lights of Edgemont flickered on the horizon just to the right of it, and I focused on those as much as I could instead of the ground that was coming toward me too fast.

I flailed my arms, pain lashing through me like lava as I tried to learn to fly, learn to wend. Tried to wield my drained power to slow my movement, to stop me from hitting the ground.

But I couldn’t.

I was too weak.

And it was too late.

I tore my eyes from the distant city lights, and looked at the ground. A grasshopper bounced on a single blade of grass right before—

15

Benedict

My footsteps were heavy in the hall, my boots thudding along the carpet as I walked from my room to the stairs, passing by the center hallway that led to the royal chambers.

Hawke sat midway down the hall, his elbows resting on his raised knees. The light from the sconce reflected off the dagger in his hand.

He looked as miserable as I felt, which was saying something. Jocelyn had only been gone a matter of hours, and yet it felt like years, decades even.

I have never loved you. Her words echoed in my head like an overplayed song on the radio. I’d spent an hour naked in my bathroom, examining each inch of my body, hoping that I’d find a new tattoo in some random location. Anything to indicate that she’d been lying, but there was nothing.

I’d foolishly given my heart to a mate who was rejecting our bond. The pain was unimaginable, an aching agony of emptiness that I knew would only worsen as time went on. Bonds could be rejected—it had happened a few times in vampire history, but never after it had been accepted as I’d thought ours had been. She didn’t want me, and yet my heart kept slamming against my ribs as if it could fly across our territory to the palace of the witches and reclaim her.

But you can’t.

Hawke’s head fell back against the wall with a dull thump.

“You can’t sit out here forever,” I said, changing my path and walking toward him.

He didn’t bother to respond.

“Or maybe you can.” I sank down the wall to sit next to him, careful to keep out of reach of that dagger.

He stared at the door in front of us as if he could somehow see through the wood and steel that separated the space.

“You know Olivia is in there with her,” I said softly.

“She’s not speaking.” His voice came out like it had spent time with a cheese grater.

“She will.”

“You don’t know that.” He shook his head. “All because I didn’t sit right here the night she decided to sneak out with Jocelyn.” There was no malice in his tone when it came to my mate, but there also wasn’t a lie branding itself on my skin, because he wasn’t lying. He believed every word of it. “Where is your little witch, anyway? I didn’t see her at repast.”

“She left.” The words barely sounded like my own. “She’s...gone.”

“Gone?” His brow furrowed, but he kept his focus on Avianna’s door.

“As in doesn’t-want-me-or-love-me gone,” I affirmed, drawing my knees up. Somehow it didn’t seem real, and yet my chest was splitting in two, as if taking blow after physical blow. I lifted my fist and rubbed it over my sternum, trying to ease an ache that had no physical source.

“Who gives a shit about love?” Hawke glanced my way. “She’s your mate. Go get her.”

“I’m not about to force the woman to stay at my side, and I can’t exactly go fetch her from witch territory if she doesn’t want me. It would be an act of war and break the Covenant. If she doesn’t want me, there’s nothing I can do about it.”

He rolled his eyes. “She wants you. Trust me. Anyone can see the way she looks at you and it’s not exactly like you two are…” His nose twitched, “...quiet with your activities.”

Fuck, the thought of never touching her again, never catching the scent of her skin or feeling the silky strands of her hair wrap around my hands was nearly enough to undo me right there. My chest screamed again, pain exploding in my ribs and sternum.

“What’s wrong?” Hawke asked.

“I…” I shook my head, unable to describe the excruciating pain that held my heart like a vise. It was as if the bond between Jocelyn and I was being cut through—severed. “She wouldn't,” I whispered.

Or would she? Would the heiress to the throne of the witches magically sever our bond? Would she free herself in order to take the throne, or...a consort?