“Is everything okay?” he asks, and a moment later, a warm, fur-covered weight settles into my lap. I automatically begin stroking Archie’s back, doing my best to ignore the memory of him ballooning to Great Dane proportions last night.
“I think so,” I murmur, finally adjusting to the darkness. My vision sharpens far faster than it should, every edge in the room distinct, every shadow clear. “It’s still a lot to process.”
His cold nose nudges my hand, settling me. “I imagine it will be for some time,” he says gently. “But you can handle this. Not only because of your own strength, but because you’re not alone.”
“Right. And what excellent company we’ve found ourselves with.” My groan echoes in the quiet, half-laced with sarcasm, half with genuine exhaustion. “A crazy old granny and a rabid dog.”
Archie actually chuckles. “I’d normally agree with you there, but while Iris is her own breed of Hollowbornand Cade might be…a little rogue, both of them have their own dire reasons to keep you alive.”
Sure. One wants me to inherit the family business—which would make my mom rise from her grave just to strangle me—and the other slapped a “mate” label on me like I’m a prize-winning cow at a county fair.
Bad news for them. I’m not interested in living at NightShade, and I’m not for sale, or for the taking. Not even for a sexy, terrifying, shouldn’t-be-real, beast of a man.
“You know I can’t stay here, Archie.” My voice softens before I can stop it. My mother might have kept this entire supernatural circus a secret from me, making the last twelve hours infinitely harder than they needed to be, but I get it now.
Especially if she knew what I could become.
Some sort of freak from a twisted fable.
I swing my legs out of bed, half-expecting them to ache from the nightmare wolf chase, but instead, there’s a weird lightness flowing through me. My muscles still feel sore, but underneath is something new. An energy that hums like power under my skin.
Fantastic. Maybe I’m becoming a human battery now.
“I’m going to shower,” I say, shuffling toward the bathroom.
It’s not until my feet touch the tile that I realize the warmth beneath them. Right. Heated magical floors. Let’s just hope that I don’t break anything by doing something I’m not supposed to.
Going through the motions, I’m grateful to findeverything seems relatively normal in operation when it comes to hot water and soap, and I can’t lie. Stating the various scents to nobody in particular while I’m washing up is kind of fun. Vanilla, roses, cashmere, strawberries. Everything was spot-on.
When I step out of the shower, I expect to be wind-blown from the automatic drying feature, but instead, my skin tingles, and it’s like the water just evaporates off me. Even from my long hair.
I run my fingers through the strands, not a tangle to be found.
Okay, maybethisI can get used to.
Please let the closet be this simple as well.
I move to open the bathroom, naked from head to toe, but freeze. It was one thing to prance around without clothes on in front of Archie when I thought he was an animal, but now…
Yeah, not happening.
I put my pajamas from last night back on and make a mental note to grab clothesbeforeI come into the bathroom next time. My furry best friend is still on the bed. His eyes are closed like he’s sleeping, but maybe he realized what I did and was trying to be polite. Still, I keep quiet as I go into the closet.
Inside, there are racks of shirts, sweaters, and even dresses. Each of them has varying patterns and colors, but most of everything looks like something I’d wear depending on the occasion. My stomach growls, so I don’t linger too long, settling on a green V-neck tee and a pair of light wash jeans, neither of which were in mysuitcase. Though I do find my black flats on a shelf and wear those.
As soon as I come out, Archie hops down to the floor—like he never went back to sleep—his nails clicking against the hardwood. He follows me to the door, and I scoop him up before we step into the hallway.
“Should I be more careful about the guests in this place?” I whisper, glancing left and right before daring more than a few steps.
“No. Iris kicked everyone out before you woke last night,” he replies, nose twitching. “As far as I know, it’s just us, Iris, Liz, and a couple of long-term staff members rattling around.”
Well, that’s a relief.
Still, the house doesn’t feel empty. The sconces along the corridor brighten as I pass, shadows bending away from my steps. A draft stirs, though none of the tall windows are open, carrying a hint of spice and candle smoke. I can’t tell if it’s meant to welcome me or warn me.
I pause when the carpet runner under my shoes ripples faintly, the weave shifting as though it’s smoothing itself flat for me. My stomach twists. Subtle or not, this place is too alive.
We follow the faint clink of silverware and muffled voices, deeper into the belly of the house. The doors lining the hall look different each time I glance at them—knobs glinting, colors darkening, carvings in the wood I swear weren’t there a second ago.
