“I want Ben.” As soon as the words leave her mouth, all of the anger I felt moments ago topples over like lava.
Pull your head in, Knight. Fuck.
“Drive.” I point to the road. “Now, London!”
“Will you let me go home?”
“Not yet. Drive!”
She jumps as I bark at her, hitting the reverse gear and flooring it.
“You keep up with that shit, London, and just remember, you’re the only mortal in this car.”
She puts it in drive and hits the stereo, swiping the final tears from her eyes and keeping them on the road. The Weeknd comes through the speakers, and she turns it up higher. I can feel her anxiety, not that she knows this. The only reason that song is going up is to stop me from talking. She doesn’t have to worry about that shit. Like I fucking like whatever is happening between us both. I can’t fucking stand being in the same car as her, yet I have this animalistic need to protect her.
It’s fucked.
I hate it.
I don’t fucking want it. Especially not with someone as weak as her. Even as the thoughts enter my mind, I hate the way my monster stirs to life inside of me, feral and angry. How dare I talk about her in that way.
Praise Satan. He’s still there, lurking. Pacing back and forth, just waiting to be accepted.
To be freed.
But the Ethos can’t be freed until the mating ritual is complete. Not that she’s my real mate.
No, this is some warped shifting of the stars or some shit, something a blood moon will reset.
London pulls us up the long driveway and doesn’t take a second to quickly climb out and slam the door behind her. She jogs up the marble stairs and through the twin doors, shoving past Creed and running up the grand stairs to the room I put her in.
Creed shuts the door after me.
“Anything you want to say, Creed, save it. I don’t want to fucking hear it.”
“You sure? I mean, are you sure that you don’t want to hear it?”
I ignore him. Tired and fatigued over all the drama that’s happened today, I just want to sink my teeth into something—preferably the stubborn bitch down the hall—and sleep for nine hundred years. Before I can make it five fucking feet, Mother appears, black crown sitting high on her head.
My fists flex, aware of what that means.
She dips her chin, telling me I’m right. “We’ve been called to a meeting. Fetch your brothers.” She doesn’t bother saying which ones since she isn’t sure which “son” I am. “Meet us in the Royal Room. We will arrive six strong.”
I give a curt nod and head off, but before I make it down the hall, she calls, “And be sure to lock the stray up before we leave or feed her to the dragon and be done with it.”
If it were that simple, I’d have done that the first day.
Twenty-Six
London
I belly flop onto the mattress, my face landing on the pillow. I scream loudly into the cushion before rolling onto my back. Shoving the blanket over my body, I curl into a ball and squeeze my eyes closed.
I just want to go home.
I don’t care why Knight brought me here or that my, I don’t know, subconscious or something has the hots for the asshole. He is an asshole and I’m over his shit.
He appeared from thin air today looking all kinds of angry, ready to tear the limbs from someone’s body, then probably fucking eat them, for simply making me cry.
Little did he know it was all his fault.
He was the reason. He is the reason.
And honestly, he probably knows that. The man is either in denial or doesn’t care enough to realize it…not that he would care if he did realize it. He was pissed off and prepared to kill—probably literally, if I’ve learned anything the last few days—when he thought someone else was at fault. When I told him he was the culprit, he was nothing but annoyed.
Well, welcome to the club, asshole. I’m the one who was kidnapped and forced through some creepy Guardians of the Galaxy type shit, only not at all the same because those are aliens, and this is freaking magic!
The lady from the purple shop today, she was a Mage. I’m not really sure how I know that for certain, but I do. The way she looked at me, spoke to me, it was as if she knew me in ways I didn’t know myself, and then she took my hand and flipped the fuck out.
But something tells me it wasn’t me she was afraid of, and more me she was afraid for.
To be honest, I’m not even sure fear is the correct emotion, but there was something that switched inside her. She said she was wondering when I would come.
Does that mean she knows me?
That she had a vision of a stranger coming to see her?
Is anyone a stranger to anyone in this realm?
Dammit!
So many questions and no one to answer them. It’s irritating and unfair. The least Knight could do if he insists on keeping me here is give me a little bit of insight as to why.
I’m pretty sure Knight believes the least he could do is absolutely nothing, because why would he do anything at all if he doesn’t choose to? He doesn’t strike me as a man who does what he’s told, if it’s not something he already intended to do.
Frustrated, I climb out from under the covers, pulling a hoodie that was left on the bed over the tiny little shorts and cami set Knight must have picked up for me and head for the door. I’m not sure I would have come back right away if Knight hadn’t shown up and demanded me to. Like with the shops clustered in that dark alleyway, I have no idea how I found my way back to this maze of the castle, but maybe if I knew my way back, then I could figure out my way around it. Maybe it’s something that triggers here in Rathe, an internal compass of sorts.
Or maybe Knight put some sort of freaky spell on me that embedded a map inside my brain that’ll explode and blow me to pieces if I don’t follow it.
Okay, that’s dramatic, but seriously. Anything is possible at this point, right?
My lip twitches at the ridiculous thoughts, and I turn the handle, pushing the door open and step into the hall, where I come to a halt.
The bed that looks like it was created for Wednesday Addams as a child stares back at me, my shoes at the foot of it where I left them, the window at its side wide, curtains blowing with the midnight breeze. Is it always dark here? Because I can vibe with this.
I blink and blink again, spinning back for the door.
Gripping the handle, I turn it, easing it open as I tip my head to look out.
The hallway greets me with flickering lights and a red velvet carpet, just as before. Slowly, I step out, and the door slams at my back, making me jump. I take a step, my foot freezing mid-air when the fucking bed, yet again, sits in front of me.
I spin to the door, throwing it open this time so hard it rattles against the wall, and the image outside it shakes. “What the fu—”
“He’s locked you in.”
A small yelp escapes me because, well, I’m in another fucking world. No telling what’s lurking around the corner.
When I turn, I see a girl in a black and purple maid’s uniform, a skimpy kind you’d find in department stores in October.
“You can’t get out, no matter how many times you try.” She lifts a shoulder, blue eyes sparkling as she tips her head. A mischievous smile plays at her lips. “You’re the first Giftless they’ve ever brought home. I wonder why.”