Didn’t mean anything. Luxury was something that could be taken away. How had I been nabbed while I slept? Even with Edward in my home, I would have woken up if anyone came into the house.
"What the hell is going on?" I muttered.
I studied the room more closely, my gaze drawn to the subtle curve of the walls as they narrowed toward the top. I squinted at a circular object nestled at the apex.
"Is that a cork?" I asked incredulously, disbelief coloring my tone.
A man chuckled behind me, an edgy rich sound that set off danger signals. "Yes. We’re trapped in a bottle."
Instinct took over. I whirled to face him. My hands flexed, claws springing free as I scooped up a small metal figurine of an elephant and hurled it at the speaker.
To my surprise, he snatched it out of the air effortlessly. I hadn’t lobbed it at him slowly.
"Nice throw," he remarked, examining the hunk of brass in his hand. "But let's not waste energy on futile gestures, shall we?"
A familiar face. The monsters who used illusions to soften their appearance often tweaked them over time. It was close enough I recognized him, but not enough I knew his name.
I glared at him, mind racing, trying to place him from his voice and words. "How did we end up in a damn bottle?"
He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "As for who I am, that's a long story. As to how we got here. Your guess is as good as mine, Halo."
He said the name I’d taken for official business with that same edgy amusement. While the chiseled jawline and broad shoulders straining against his tailored shirt were common in male monster disguises, that tone wasn’t.
A jolt of recognition hit me. I’d seen him only a few weeks ago, at Bran’s wedding, but he’d changed his appearance almost entirely since then.
"Luce. How’s life now that you’re officially kicked off the Council?"
He smirked, spreading his arms wide. "It’s great, thanks. Glad to see you finally figured it out. Though blank is a good look on you."
I couldn't help but notice how the movement accentuated his muscular build. Damn it, he’d picked an annoyingly attractive look this time.
"Don't shoot the messenger," Luce said, that confident smile never wavering. "I'm locked in here just as much as you are."
Hands on hips, I stared at him. "Why should I believe that? For all I know, you're behind this whole thing."
Luce leaned forward, fixing me with an intense gaze. "If I were, do you think I'd trap myself in here with your sunny temper and sweet disposition? I’m a lot of things, but a masochist isn’t one of them."
I snorted but couldn't entirely dismiss his logic. "Fine. Let's say you're mostly telling the truth. What’s going on?"
He shrugged, leaning back into the recliner. "Not much more idea than you. One minute I was minding my own business, the next, poof! Bottled daemon."
"There has to be a way out of here. Some weakness in the spell, or..."
"Trust me," Luce interrupted. "I've been over every inch of this place in the past day. Whoever did this knew what they were doing."
That narrowed the list to Council, the Guild of Alchemists, or Bran. And I was positive it wasn’t Bran.
I stomped to the sideboard, frustration bubbling up. "So what, you planned to just sit here and wait?"
His lips quirked into a half-smile. "As opposed to flailing uselessly against an unfamiliar spell, fueled by an unknown amount of power? Yes."
He had a point, but I wasn't about to admit it. Instead, I glared at him. "I hope my presence gives you incentive to work harder then."
Luce laughed. "No doubt it will. But we might be here a while. Try to make the best of it."
I crossed my arms, sizing up Luce. This illusion’s towering frame and chiseled features were imposing, but there was something almost playful in his demeanor. It felt somehow off, and it set my teeth on edge.
Narrowing my eyes, I spoke softly. "Why you?"
