“What girl?”
“The girl that was here last week. With the light?”
“I don’t know.”
“Have you seen her?” She hurriedly adds, “I only ask, because I served her at the bar, and felt like we hit it off.”
Harlow has barely said two words to me ever and now wants to have an entire conversation with me? Something seems odd. “I… no. I haven’t seen her. Can you tell me what she looks like? I know we’re all supposed to be finding her, but I never saw a picture. I just heard that she could be dangerous.”
Harlow studies me for a second, then laughs awkwardly. “I’m not great at descriptions and it was dark. About this tall,” she motions with her hand. “Maybe a bit of fire in her eyes.
I know that look well- the fire. Images of her riding my cock flash through my mind as passion and anger battled for control last night.
Stop.
I need a clear mind when I meet with Samara. She uses words to weave you into a web of deceit until you find yourself stuck in the middle, unable to get out. She’d be better represented as a large blood-sucking spider because that’s what she is. Tricking and luring you in under false pretenses until you can’t see you’re stuck in the middle with her fangs in you, sucking your life away until you’re nothing more than a shell of what you were.
The hair on my arm stands on end. Something doesn’t feel right here, almost like Harlow is searching for information. How can she not describe her if she served her? Is this Samara pretending to be Harlow? I know she can shift, but why Harlow? “No, I haven’t found her.”
“Well, when you do, tell her Harlow said hello.”
“Ok… I really need to get going. I don’t want to keep Samara waiting.” I wave and continue walking, the tightness in my gut feeling more and more like a heavily weighted rock. Moving along the demonstration rooms on the right side of the floor, I sludge down the hall and find the set of stairs that lead to the offices. Samara’s is at the end of the hall- a black door with golden trim around the door. Not painted gold, but actual gold, much like the rest of the items in her office. All expensive marbles, gold and crystals.
My knuckles knock softly.
Silence.
I knock again, “Samara?”
“Jax,” I hear called from behind me.
Samara is walking up to me wearing a long black dress that hugs every curve of her body with her hair hanging down to her waist. Her nails are pointy and painted black, matching the color of her heart if she had one.
She doesn’t.
Should have been my first clue not to trust her when I came to her all those years ago, but no. I was selfish and trying to get out of an arranged marriage to a pack alpha’s daughter.
“Any news of the fae girl?”
“None.”
She lets out a hum, then lays her hand on my arm. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”
This can’t be good. “I thought we were going to talk about the business.”
“We are.” The way the last word hangs on her tongue makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand. I can see her spinning her web right around me, but I don’t know how to get out of it. Only thing I can do now is buy myself time and not creep further into the center.
She leads me back downstairs to the large circular room with elevators that either take you to Eden or to Infernus. Eden being mostly whites and golds, a place where light fae can explore safely. An Infernus, mostly reds and blacks, where the dark fae come out to play. Where they torture and torment.
With confidence, I know we’re going to Infernus. Nothing about Samara says light and happy. No, she was born from the depths of hell. I think the only reason she created Eden was so she could torture the light fae who had allegiance to the true fae. It’s a reminder of the power she wields over the fae community. Most have forgotten what she did, or don’t seem to care as long as they’re safe from her wrath, but those of us who remember… we will get retribution. And now with Everlee, maybe it’s a sign the true fae will soon be reborn. Perhaps that’s why Samara is so eager to eliminate her or hide her away. Everlee will be a sign of hope for those who haven’t forgotten.
We enter the elevator, and she presses the button for Infernus.
It’s funny really. You can choose. Heaven or hell. Light or dark. You always have a choice.
“So Jax,” Samara’s words are smooth like silk. Silk that’s been caught on fire. Burns, but does not melt. Just turns black.
“Samara.”
