The Coven (Coven of Bones #1)

by Harper L. Woods

The humans in town often called it a frog in the throat because of the hoarseness. I’d never understood the analogy, instead feeling as if it were grave dirt coming to claim me from the inside.

“If it is order that you value, then I will bring you nothing but chaos.”

As far as they knew, the Hecate line had died with my aunt, and for now, that was how it needed to stay.

“To be a witch with no Coven is to suffer unnecessarily. We should not be alone in this world,”

had a feeling whatever her mother had raised her to believe, she’d also given her the gift of thinking for herself. It was a gift many were not afforded.

“Maybe you should consider that history is always written by the victor.

I held her carefully, cautiously. I didn’t want to hurt her, even if the idea of seeing her skin covered in bites and bruises from more pleasurable endeavors did fill me with an odd warmth.

Like a siren calling me to the sea, there was something unnatural in that noise. In the voice that was more of a song than spoken words.

I might do it, but I’d make it clear I thought it was stupid.

The motion dragged my attention up to the portrait at his back. The morbid image of Lucifer’s fall from grace stared me in the face. Where the feathered wings of an angel had once been, there were only the open, gaping wounds where they’d been torn from his flesh. A single tear dropped down the figure’s face, His stunningly beautiful features twisted in pain. His eyes glowed bright gold, the harsh set to His features betraying every moment of His rage. He was like nothing I’d ever seen before, emitting such power from a painting that the breath caught in my throat. That was who I risked the wrath of if I somehow managed to undo the Coven and the Vessels. Sending Lucifer’s minions back to Hell if He didn’t desire it would bring untold danger upon myself. “It’s there to serve as a reminder,” Gray said, his words both sympathy and accusation all at once.

I grasped his wrist, guiding his hand away from my face. Leaning forward, I gave in to the desire to lick the blood from his mouth. Drawing his bottom lip into my mouth, I ran my tongue over the surface until the sweet taste of apple covered my tongue. I raised his hand to my mouth and sucked his thumb as deep as I could, consuming his blood and taking it as part of me. His eyes were still half-shut as I drew back on his thumb slowly, releasing it finally as he leaned forward. The standard custom was for him to pierce my thumb the same way he had, but he mimicked my actions. His eyes held mine as his mouth lingered just a breath from mine, his teeth pinching my bottom lip pointedly until it bled. He groaned as he covered the wound with his mouth, sucking on the flesh and taking the blood he needed for the deal.

I didn’t know what I’d expected when the Covenant sent me to retrieve the sole remaining Madizza witch, but it definitely hadn’t been Willow with the earth in her bones but fire in her blood.

The moment my eyes met his, I realized my mistake. His pupils had bled to black, darkness consuming the blue of his stare. “From this moment until I release you, the only way you will be able to orgasm will be with me. My touch. My mouth. My cock. Your own touch will not satisfy you, nor will the touch of any other person. There is only me.”

moaned, pushing back against his mouth as the fire went straight to my belly. As it curled and writhed inside of me, finding a home. His ragged groan drove me forward, my fingers clutching the edge as if my life depended on it. I drifted through the haze of pleasure, losing track of the space around me as he drank from me. “Gray,” I whimpered, feeling something crack in my hands. He pulled his fangs free, the wet heat of his mouth coasting over my flesh. The moment his lips touched mine, I was lost. Nothing existed but the brand of his mouth on me. But the heat of his tongue sliding through me. He pressed his face into my flesh, and there was nothing teasing in the way he devoured me. He ate like a man starved, like I was his last meal on earth.

The pain helped. It always brought me back to the present—reminded

“Your destiny is not to do what is right. Your destiny is to destroy us all.”

According to my father, men preferred subservient, quiet women. Then there was me.

“Because you will be the last of the Hecate line and the magic in those bones will die with you, my love.”

“A lot of things do,” he agreed, his words a soft caress despite the pain they brought me. “But never you, Witchling. You’re the key to everything. You’re exactly what I’ve been waiting for all these years.”

“I cannot love you in this form,” he said, his voice softening as he took my other hand in his and rested it atop the chest of his other body. His true body. “But I can in my own. Let me love you as you deserve, Witchling.”