HBHM (hiatus)

twenty-nine

a/n: i feel extremely humiliated that this book is already three years old today [3 years!] but it's not even close to being done. but anyway, happy hearts day!

if i got rid of my demons, i’d lose my angels. –tennessee williams

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Evarose swallowed hard, running her hands down her new dress. It was simple, colored white with gold lace and silvery flowers, so lovely that she wanted to rip it into pieces. The silk was lush against her skin, and she both hated and loved it.

This was wrong. She knew she was playing right in the middle of Vladimir’s game, and he was probably laughing at her foolishness behind doors. She didn’t like this at all.

But she had other things to worry about, and she let it occupy her thoughts, letting her uneasiness fade into the background as she donned a dark velvet cloak.

She was meeting Vladimir tonight.

One year of running, hiding, and now she was back to where it all started.

Constance stood in front of her, arms crossed, her eyes accessing the dress. Anger and embarrassment danced in Evarose’s blood, hating the way she felt bare, all the way to her soul.

“I suppose it’s good enough.” Then the witch gave a smile, dangerous like knives. “Of course, you will try your tricks, I suspect. Mastered your demon now, have you?”

As if Evarose would dare try to snap all of his bones when they’ll just heal back, stronger, within seconds. The idea was tempting, but useless, anyway. “I wouldn’t—”

“Oh, no matter. You won’t be able to use it anymore.”

Then Constance murmured darkly and suddenly something blazed in her hand: a long, gold chain, not entirely solid, humming with contrasting power that it made Evarose move away. Her blood snarled, wild, unnerved, disturbed—and for the first time, terrified.

The realization hit her too late.

Evarose’s eyes flashed red as she sprinted for the door but Constance whipped out the chain just as fast. The end wrapped around Evarose’s torso and she screamed, desperately trying to tear it off, her skin smoking like fire overtaken by water. She fought back, but the chain grew tighter, burrowing into her skin, tangling with her soul.

Constance let go of her end of the chain, and it instantly raced to Evarose, coiling across her shoulders, then down and around her arms. Evarose knew—the chain was inking and binding itself to her skin in gold.

It was exactly how Vladimir had gotten the runes on his body.

Behind her, Constance laughed. “Try to hurt my king, and I’ll make you suffer, sweet rose.”

Evarose could only shudder at the icy, violating sensation spreading throughout her body, feeling confined, weak, lost. “What—” she rasped out, breathless. “What did you . . . do to me?”

“I made you human,” Constance replied, shrugging. “Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?”

Evarose heaved, unable to get the words out. Not that she had an answer in the first place.

“Unfortunately I don’t have a certain ingredient so I can’t make the spell last more than a few days. Annoying little details.” She waved a dismissive hand, uncaring as she strode to the doors. “I’ll give you a moment to pine for your . . . loss. Then we’ll see your master.”