13. Connor O’Doyle

Chapter 13

Connor O’Doyle

Lycan around and find out .

“What the fuck are you doing?” I yell, my claws ripping through my fingers.

Standing just inside the door of the massive theater, I glare at the big oaf seated on the large burgundy couch, his attention on the TV screen hanging from the ceiling. It took forever to hunt him down, made worse by the fact that I can barely smell the fucker, which means he must be wearing something to block his scent. My pulse thunders in my veins, the back of my neck damp from all the anger rolling through me in waves. What the fuck is he doing ?

I have been searching the castle for him for the past hour.

Frank turns his head and nods at me from the huge sunken sofa, a gift to Vlad one year when I was attempting to get him to watch films.

“I could ask the same of you.” Frank toys with the remote, changing the channel. “What are you doing lurking in females’ bedrooms?”

Of course, he sensed me in there. And, instead of helping me, he does nothing. He just wants to see me suffer while he’s here—I just know it.

“Why would you send her in the bathroom, knowing I was in there?” I glare at the back of his head, flexing my clawed hands at my side. “Why don’t you go freshen up?” I mimic him, embellishing for effect. “You knobhead tosser.”

I glance around the massive room, noticing the blanket. It looks as if he’s been staying in here permanently. Then again, I haven’t given him a room, since I wanted him to get the point and fuck off, so it doesn’t surprise me he found a spot.

“What are you even doing in here?”

“You think I want to be in this dung heap of a castle mingling with humans? I am waiting on a lead, and then I’ll be out of your fur.” He throws an arm over the back of the couch and takes a swig from his glass.

My nose wrinkles with confusion at the sight. “And since when do you drink?”

Frank constantly warned us against the ramifications of drinking and falling into a drunken stupor, not out of risk to ourselves, of course, but because of the issues with humans and loose tongues.

“Since I decided to start.” He swivels his head around and pins me with a hard stare. “Who was here, Doyle? Because according to Felix, the doors opened a month ago, but I have checked everyone who arrived, even George. I know you know something about who hacked Talbot Global. Tell me and I’ll leave all your pets. It’s that simple.”

“I’m sure Felix enjoyed you questioning his partner,” I say, stepping down a level to where the couch sits in the depressed floor.

“He reacted as you assume he would, yelling and irrational, but it does not matter.” Orange blazes in his gaze, and I watch unaffected as he cracks his neck, straightening his frame. “Just tell me who was here so I can leave.”

“No one was here. The jolly green giant can make his way to some other castle to haunt,” I lie smoothly, passing the couch to make my way to the sideboard where Frank has a scotch decanter and an empty glass. Looks like he was planning, at some point, to have a drink with me.

There is no record of anyone being here the week before because Aubrey arrived a week earlier than everyone else and no one would know this except for Vlad and me. When I looked back over my records after Frank gave me an accurate timeframe, none of the other guests had arrived, including George.

A wave of protectiveness comes over me at the thought of Aubrey in Frank’s grasp again. Vlad would most definitely kill him and break every bond the rest of us have, and I can’t let any of that happen. I’m worried she knows who did it—there’s no other answer, unless someone purposefully bounced their VPN off of us to cause strife between Vlad, Frank, and I.

“Then why do I have half a message left from the thief—the only trace—and it had this address ping the same day from here?”

“There was no one here, Frank. Have you considered someone bounced their VPN off of us as a diversion?”

“Sure, it’s a possibility, but I’m here to make absolutely sure while my ghouls look at other sources. If you won’t tell me, I bet the staff, or that little chef you keep talking to, will know something. Whitley seems like she?—”

“That brings me to the other reason I came to find you,” I snarl out, fabric tearing as my forearms rip through the seams of my expensive tailor-made shirt and suit jacket. My voice distorts, more gravelly and deeper than usual, my eyesight tinted yellow. “I’m going to need you to stay away from the chef.”

If I had any chance to hide how that woman riles me up, it’s gone. I wish I’d never snuck into her room again, especially with the way I almost fucking fell upon her like I was going into a damn rut. Pulling away from her had been painful , but I needed out before I fucked her senseless against the bathroom door.

The white shirt Frank’s wearing stretches when he pulls his hands above his head while yawning, before he scratches at his middle. He pointedly looks at my eyes and shrugs.

“I have no designs on the woman at all. A human? No thank you.” He gets to his feet and walks toward me, an evil grin spreading across his face. “She got me what I wanted, though, which was you here. Paying attention.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

He nods, gesturing to the exit, but I know he means wherever she is. “You look at her differently.” His gaze slides from mine, and a chill comes over me. He is definitely up to more than he is letting on, but I have no time to deal with his bullshit.

“Stay away from all the visitors, guests, and employees, Frank, or Talbot being hacked will be the least of your worries,” I snap, annoyed he worked it out that quickly when I have just come to terms with it myself.

“Perhaps I will ask Miss Whitt during our date if she has any idea who was here at the castle. She must have gotten here before George.”

I growl and he watches with rapt fascination as my clawed hands flex and twitch, moments from lashing out at him. He always did enjoy it when I would have a strange reaction to some oddity, although most of the time it’s not this severe.

“Stay away for your own good because her perfume is driving me to madness,” I admit, sending up a prayer that for once someone does as I ask and listens.

“Oh, nice. Been a while since you’ve had a reaction to a perfume, eh?” He cocks his head, and his gaze passes over me. “A little tickle of wolfbane and you’re close to howling at the sky.”

I roll my eyes. “Like you would know.”

“I make it my business to know.” The gigantic arse knows nothing and none of them can understand, but that isn’t their fault. The type of monster I am always relies on control, and he is sorely testing it, which means it’s probably best I tell him.

I sigh heavily, willing my body to obey once more and retract my claws. My features turn to granite as I force them to change back, and finally pour myself a drink from the scotch decanter Frank stole and brought in here.

“You are so on edge, Connor. It’s really not like you.” His gray eyes look me over before a brow pops. “You’re usually Mr. Prim and Proper, all chill and professionalism, and fucking boring. It’s rare to see you out of your wits, even due to a perfume.”

“And you like to poke,” I bite back.

He lifts his shoulders, shrugging. “It’s so hard to stay amused in this place.”

“Could you be less of a fucker? Until I hear from Jekyll, stay away from her, or I will rip you apart.” Yellow streams from my vision as I stare at him with my wolven eyes, the monster in me letting him know I have staked my claim, and he better fucking listen. “ Everyone needs to stay away from her.”

He chuckles, the sound odd to my ears. “Does she know that?”

“No,” I grumble, downing my drink and collapsing into one of the low-back leather chairs.

“You are right fucked, mate.”

“Don’t I know it.”