Chapter 7: The Betrayal - Bloodween

“I WOULD SAY I’M SORRY, BUT IT WOULDN’T CHANGE A THING.”

The shift was faster than I expected. One second he was all smooth brown skin and muscle; the next, bones cracked and reshaped, fur rippling out in a wave of brown and black. When it ended, a massive wolf stood where Dorian had been.

Bigger than I’d imagined, easily twice the size of any wolf. All muscle, all restrained power. Those glowing eyes studied me, waiting for the scream, the fear, the typical human reaction.

His tail swayed once, cautious.

“Come here,” I said gently, patting the bed. “Let me see you properly.”

He hesitated, head tilting as if confirming I wasn’t afraid.

“I said come here,” I repeated, slower. “You’re not going to break anything.”

The floor creaked under his weight. When he reached the bed, I pushed the covers aside as I moved to the edge. Maybe I should’ve been nervous. Varek clearly lacked control, but I wasn’t.

He lowered himself until his face was level with mine. I reached out, fingers sinking into fur that was soft, thick, and warmer than skin.

“Beautiful,” I whispered before I could stop myself.

His ears twitched, a quiet rumble rolling through his chest.

“That better be you saying thank you for the compliment.”

He huffed, exhaling against my thigh, close enough to raise goosebumps.

The moment stretched. My adrenaline faded. The silence settled—no words, no movement, just his breathing and me listening.

I’d seen werewolves before, but never this close. It was comforting. Something tight in me loosened causing the elixir to do what it did best—stir restlessly in my veins.

I kept combing through his fur, tracing the curve of his shoulder. He adjusted once, a slow circle, then laid beside me, head level with my knees, his body pressed against the mattress and grounding me there. My fingers followed the rhythm of his breathing until it synced with mine.

My hand slid down his neck. His pulse thudded fast beneath my palm, hot and powerful. Blood pumping.

Blood that witches like me craved.

Not because we needed it, but because it fed us the kind of power most would never experience.

But I wasn’t most.

I would experience it.

I hadn’t come this far not to.

Unfortunately, that didn’t stop the doubts from steadily crashing through me, insistent and cold.

What if the ritual didn’t take? What if a connection built in hours, not months, wasn’t enough? What if the Crimson Elixor rejected his blood because our intimacy was too new—too shallow?

Stop.

I shoved the thoughts away.

It would work.

I hadn’t given myself to him for nothing. We’d built something tonight—through sex, through his marks, through the way he trusted me with both his forms. I’d done all that the ritual required for success.

Yet, the fucking fear stayed. Why?

Why won’t you go away?

Was it because of the connection? I couldn’t deny that it felt too intense.

The kind of intensity that made my fingers tremble in his fur.

But ever since he bit me, tasted me, nothing had felt the same.

This was why you never let men in. They ruined everything. This was supposed to be strategic, calculated—not whatever this was becoming.

I needed to shake it off because there was no turning back. Someone had to be betrayed tonight.

I sighed as I laid down along the edge, his fur tickling my bare skin. He gave a low growl, eyes meeting mine—alert, trusting.

He had no idea what was coming. Just as I had no idea my thoughts would consume me like this—to try and make me feel when I’d learned long ago that power had no room for feelings.

Power, like red, meant sacrifice.

Power meant blood.

Power meant magic.

And apparently, power meant losing something you didn’t know you’d want to keep.

My hand extended, scratching behind his ear. “My little wolf,” I murmured.

He exhaled against my thigh, hot enough to make me shiver.

I smiled before I could stop it. “And I’ll always be your little witch.”

The words settled between us, a promise I had no right to make, a lie that tasted too much like truth.

His eyes drifted closed, breathing slowing as exhaustion claimed him. The tension bled from his body, muscle by muscle, until he lay fully relaxed.

The potion stirred inside me, aching for what came next.

My moment of truth.

While he slept, I could leave. Slip out of the cabin, go back to Marlowe, find Renna.

The original plan.

The one I’d spent months preparing for, cultivating the perfect friendship for.

It would be messy and rushed, but still possible.

Or I could stay and sacrifice the rawest, most intimate connection—one my blood whispered would yield infinite power.

Renna was perfect.

But this feeling I couldn’t rid, told me Dorian offered transcendence.

Which meant when I drained him, when I took everything he was into myself, I’d be unstoppable.

I was Armisha Devane, descendant of the Bound. A Crimson Witch who’d waited years for this moment.

And I would always choose power.

I would always choose me.

The Crimson Elixor pulsed in agreement, sealing my resolve.

I would say I’m sorry, but it wouldn’t change a thing.

My hand moved through his fur one last time, slow and deliberate, memorizing his warmth and weight.

“I really did have a lot of fun tonight,” I whispered, pulling my hand away.

He didn’t stir. Didn’t even twitch.

Funny how all this could’ve been avoided if he hadn’t kidnapped me.

That was his first mistake.

His last: trusting me.

Mine—letting myself feel it.

But that was temporary. My ascension would be permanent.

The ache in my chest cooled to nothing and I reached for my phone with steady hands.

6:44 a.m.

Four hours and forty-five minutes left.

My thumb hovered. One breath. Two. Then I typed.

Me

Starting.

I stared at the screen, waiting. My thumb pulled down my notification bar and the last message from Renna caught my attention. I glanced at Varek’s sleeping body and then Dorian’s phone still charging on the nightstand beside him.

I grabbed his phone and whispered the unlock spell. Thirteen unread messages—all from Renna. Anger. Worry. Anger again. Then, desperation.

Eww.

I skimmed the thread, caught his usual tone, and typed the lie he’d planned to tell her.

via Dorian’s phone

u were acting like a brat so I ain’t feel like talking. My phne died and u did way too much. I’ll be home later, we can talk then. Chill.

Send. Done.

One less loose end.

Before I placed his phone back, mine vibrated in my hand and with a deep breath, I checked it.

CMV

The tracking will begin. Good luck, initiate.

It was time.

Time to prove I wasn’t another little witch hoping for power.

I was the one who’d take it.

I slipped off the bed, my feet meeting cold floor. The chill sharpened my focus and stripped his warmth away as my reflection met me. The color of my eyes brightening to amber-red as my magic rose like it had been waiting for permission.

My gaze returned to him—the wolf sleeping where the man had been, chest rising and falling with trust I was about to shatter.

Maybe in another lifetime, we’d be something else.

But in this one, he had to bleed.

I straightened, let my magic fill me, and spoke the words that would seal his fate.