Page 8 of Our Covenant

The thought of locking him up in the manor for a few dozen years has crossed my mind, but tying my life to that responsibility sounds too tedious. Not to mention that whatever toxic sludge runs through his veins would likely degrade the ancient stone floors if spilled as often as his mouth would warrant it.

Everything about the man is poison. You don’t earn favor with the sort of deities that grant eternal youth unless you have darkness they crave. The legacies aren’t saints by any means, but the weights placed on us since birth force us to act in the favor of the many. Our fathers were some of the most powerful coven legacies in over a hundred years. The elders expected that the four of us would not only match, but surpass their power by now.

The disappointment never goes unnoticed. Even my mother blames herself for steering me wrong somewhere in my upbringing. Not enough incessant coddling or private tutors. Once she went as far as implying my father should come to a harvest ceremony and assist. Edmund Morey had the good sense to shut that peer review down before she could make the suggestion to the other council members. Those power-hungry crones would have agreed to it with eagerness.

Tension in my shoulders is only relieved when Alric is out of sight, but there’s still a gnawing worry in my gut that could be dulled by talking to Thorne or Maddox. Alric doesn’t get to them the way he does me or Fox. The asshole has rooted around like a truffle swine to find our weaknesses and exploits them every chance he gets. But Maddox is still exhausted from last night, and I’m not sure I’m ready to have a normal conversation with Thorne.

Hale.

Thorne’s voice still rings in my ear. The solitude of the library becomes an echo chamber for the unknown and the impossible. When was the last time the Hale name was mentioned out loud?

When the coven made the decision to disown the family, they were only traced and hunted for two generations before the whole line disappeared from the Northeast territory that our coven has held on to for hundreds of years.

I slip my hand in my pocket and fish out my phone. If I can’t work out my stress with level-headed communication, I will numb my senses with sex. My thumb scrolls through my text threads until I reach the most willing participant for a short-notice fuck.

Asher

I’m coming over.

DTF

I’m not presentable.

Give me an hour.

Asher

I’ll give you ten minutes.

DTF

The door’s unlocked.

Asher

Good girl.

5

ELSBETH

The dusty, dark, and too crowded library is where the children of the rich and powerful congregate between classes. Thousands of books are streaked with the fingerprints of privilege. Every single one of them is too engrossed in their own selfish endeavors to notice the predator stalking them. Future doctors, lawyers, and narcissists roam these stacks daily, never knowing what truly lies beyond the ivy-covered walls of their prestigious school. They wouldn’t know struggle if it bit them on their Stòffa-covered asses.

One of them is two tables away from me, talking to the man who pulled the strings for me to attend this school. Playing his faithful puppet ensures that I will be the downfall of the coven that tried to erase my name from history. Hundreds of years of ostracization and brutal murder will be avenged when I take my rightful place as the last legacy standing.

Asher Morey’s nose is so high in the virulent air surrounding him that he hasn’t noticed that I’ve joined all of his classes this semester. Not that he is particularly social outside of his coven. Why would he need to be when they’re all eating out of the palm of his hand?

Alric isn’t much different, except for being immortal due to his hubris. What a man like Alric will do with eternity is beyond me, but as he’s proven time and time again, nothing mortal could end his life. The mystic balance of the universe prohibits his demise—at least that’s what the gossip says. My mother once told me that he’d tried to behead himself with a guillotine.

Not sure the trip to France was worth it, but when you believe yourself to be a god, only the instrument used to kill a king is worthy enough to take your life. Unfortunately for him—and me—he survived.

I watch as Alric bids Asher goodbye and pull the stack of books on my table closer to block Asher’s death stare. But that disdain is meant only for Alric. Asher has no idea what evil Alric is capable of, but he will soon find out what kind of monster he has set upon his house.

Upon passing my table, Alric runs his finger across the polished wood. The small acknowledgment sends a chill down my spine, and the wake of his cologne brings bile to the back of my throat. I hate that man. Hate that he perceives me at all. To him, I am the means to the end of the current reign. With Asher, Maddox, Fox, and Thorne out of his way, he could lord over the most powerful coven in the U.S. with me and my mother by his side—or so he’s promised. As if I would come this far just to step aside for him. But that’s my own game. One that no one else is aware they’re playing.

Asher doesn’t linger. He rarely spends time in the university library. The legacies’ mansion is well equipped with all the knowledge he and the other three need—knowledge they shouldn’t be hoarding. We have one more class today, but he won’t be attending. Even though the time of the council meeting doesn’t interfere, he is still filled to his tipping point with newly harvested magic. All that pent-up energy has to go somewhere. In Asher’s case, it’s a hot, leggy blonde who has an apartment right off campus.

None of the legacies have formed attachments to anyone, but his string of fuck buddies is a mile long. The only mystery is how long he’ll be able to last.