A laugh escapes my chest. Vector’s gruff bluntness never fails to amuse me.
“Have you never dreamed of a better place? Of a brighter future?”
“Not one you can achieve by eating an apple.” He ducks under a low hanging chandelier and casts a glance my way, “Have you?”
I don’t let my smile falter as I lead him down a set of ominous-looking stairs.
“There is no future outside these borders for someone like me.”
Vector grunts but otherwise stays silent.
Spiraling around the tower in circles, we descend the steps in unison, our shadows swaying through the flickering candles. Dust mites fill the air as we wander past the wine cellars and into the dungeon below.
“Welcome to White Castle, Vector.” Offering the beast a grin, I push the stone that unlocks the entrance to Evelyn White’s chambers, “Home to the Witch of Wolf Hollow.”
A groan echoes as the wall shifts to the side, the cobblestones offering the perfect camouflage for anyone looking to get inside. Music and a web of perfume flares out into the darkness, the laughter and drunk ramblings promising a present far greater than one’s future.
“Do your best not to get killed.” Tapping my lips thoughtfully, I give him a pointed stare, “I would hate to have to terminate your employment contract so soon. Your brother would hate it even more, I’m sure.”
A glint of rage lights up Vector’s pale blue eyes, the fire that I was hoping to ignite smouldering just beneath the surface.
“Go on.” Gesturing for him to enter, I give him a teasing smile, “Before I change my mind and choose your mother instead.”
His jaw clenches, his hands curl into fists and Vector storms into the party looking for a fight. The sight puts a genuine smile on my face, the first step of my plan well underway.
If you can’t tame the beast, you may as well put him to use.
Chapter 13
CHRISTOPHER
This place is fucking sick.
Lanterns hang low from a vaulted ceiling, the bars of an old prison cell offering a place for people to take selfies and relive their glory days. It’s the kind of place that makes you feel like you’ve stepped back in time, back to an age where torture sessions were welcome and kings and queens still sent out execution demands.
God. And don’t get me started on the food.
Platters of pigs and elaborate roasts line massive tables, the silverware and champagne flutes glistening with the finest alcohol money can buy. Fruit of every colour decorate the velvet tablecloths, the perfect tangle of grapes and apples making me hungry just by looking at them.
Don’t touch anything you’re not ready to offer a lifelong commitment to.
Calista’s warning rings in my head, forcing my eyes away from the elaborate feast to the college students mingling around me.
Curious looks press into my back as I survey the room, my status as the outsider as obvious as the ink creeping up my arms and neck. Just by walking into the room, I can tell it’s a clique group, even if half the people in here are eye fucking the shit out of me.
That’s what you get when you’re the new guy, I guess.
“Are you enjoying the party?”
Giggles turn my attention to a couple of girls on my right, idling nearby with matching grins. The brunette is smaller, a bit wider than her redheaded companion, but both are wearing bows and dresses that differ only in colour.
“Still digesting the atmosphere.”
“Oh my God, he’s British.”
“Itoldyou he was British.” The brunette snaps her teeth, “You never listen to a thing I say.”
Clearing my throat before this turns into a catfight, I offer them both a smile, “Afraid I am from across the pond. Mother England misses me dearly, but I’ll be returning to her soon.”
