Page 122 of Claimed

Valentin’s mark answers, the near-black lines climbing under his skin.

Selphine’s attention snaps to the Glass, and between heartbeats, her composure fractures. Desire crosses her face, raw, bright and terrible.

She wants it.

The knowledge moves through the room with the force of a second spell.

Valentin sees it too, and his voice drops into something ancient and lethal. ‘Look at it again with ownership in your eyes, and I will feed you to the mirror shard by shard.’

Selphine’s gaze returns to him and the wanting vanishes behind a smile. ‘Still territorial over broken things?’

‘The Glass is not yours.’

‘Nothing is anyone’s forever.’

‘Tell that to the dead who thought to take it from me.’

The force field hums between them as the Twelve remain poised around the room, held back by one lifted command from Valentin’s hand. I can feel how badly they want to lunge. Ten predators aching to tear one witch apart, though every instinct in the room now knows Selphine is far beyond what she pretended to be.

Blood trickling from the corner of her mouth, Rowan pushes herself to her feet, wipes it away with the back of her hand and smiles.

It’s not a nice smile. ‘You always did prefer theatre.’

Selphine doesn’t even look at her. ‘And you always did mistake endurance for importance. Tell me, how important did you feel hiding in that cave for what… three, four decades while life passed you by?’

Rowan begins another spell. This one is quieter.

The wards in the room answer her, slow and deep, as if she is calling on the Tower itself rather than only her own power. Lines of red light seep through the floor, moving towards Selphine’s circle.

She laughs, and the sound raises goosebumps along my arms.

‘Oh, little fen-witch. You’re standing in a house built by vampires, warded with blood, poisoned by Morrighan’s curse, and cracked by this charming hunter’s inconvenient existence.’ Her eyes flick to me. ‘Do you truly think the room will choose you?’

The floor runes falter and Rowan’s jaw tightens.

Valentin moves again, and this time the Twelve move with him.

Luca first, fast and furious. Iskander and Cassian from the side. Gideon lunges with a silver-black blade and claws out while Aaron vanishes and reappears behind the force field, Rook from the shadows. All of them striking with lethal precision.

Selphine lifts both hands.

The force field expands and every vampire is thrown back.

Chairs overturn and glass explodes as Luca hits the wall with a curse. Iskander crashes through a table. Aaron drops to one knee, teeth bared. Even Valentin slides several feet before stopping himself, claws gouging the floor.

Selphine doesn’t move. She looks at me through the wreckage, and the force of her attention pins me more effectively than magic.

‘Why?’ I ask again, and the word comes out smaller than my fury deserves.

Her expression changes. Only for me. And every being and broken artefact in the room seems to fade behind the history between us as memories spark.

My little room above her shop… her voice telling me to breathe as her hands braid my hair because I was shaking too hard to do it myself. Her teaching me which herbs stopped nightmares and which ones invited truth.

‘You saved me,’ I say, and my voice breaks in a way that humiliates me. ‘Then you used me.’

Selphine’s face tightens. ‘Both things can be true.’

The answer cuts deeper than denial and my eyes burn. ‘For what?’