Chapter 12

Chapter

Twelve

HARPER

K nocking woke me from yet another night of restless sleep. Blinking, I sat up and gazed around the shadowy bedroom. Through the sitting room's windows, the predawn sky was tinged with pink.

The events of the previous night rushed back, and my throat went dry as I swung my gaze back to the door. Oh god, what if Einar was on the other side of it?

Embarrassment curdled my stomach. How was I ever going to look him in the eye again? Although, maybe that had been Einar's intention all along. He'd witnessed me at my most vulnerable. Maybe he'd scooped me from the kitchen floor and carried me to bed on purpose, knowing I'd hide in my room for the remainder of my stay at Draithmere. Hell, he might have orchestrated the whole scene with the centaurs. Set me up to get blindsided by lust so powerful I would have done anything to assuage it.

It was a devious thing to do. Smart, but devious.

The knock rang out again. "Miss Ward?" Arlo called through the door. "I apologize for waking you so early."

Relief swirled through me, along with another dollop of embarrassment. Arlo was no fool. Even if Einar hadn't shared what happened in my bedroom, the steward had almost certainly filled in the blanks. But Arlo had been a gentleman about the ordeal. He'd delivered my dinner later than usual last night, explaining he'd been tied up with "estate accounting issues" that left him scrambling to throw together a quick and easy meal. It was a plausible enough excuse, but we both knew he was just being polite by ignoring the incident with the centaurs. By some unspoken agreement, neither of us mentioned the scene in the kitchen, and I'd grabbed the food and practically shut the door in Arlo's face.

"Miss Ward?"

I cleared my throat. "It's all right."

A pause. Then, "Could you open the door? I have a proposal for you."

I sat up straighter. A proposal? For a second, I contemplated shouting the question through the door. But Arlo's knocking was just a formality. If he truly wanted to enter, I had a feeling nothing could stop him.

"Just a minute," I called, sliding from bed. I threw on the first clothes I could find, then opened the door.

"Good morning," Arlo said. In dress pants and a gleaming white oxford, he looked like he just stepped out of a corporate board meeting. His expression brightened as he looked past me. "Oh good, you ate the grilled cheese."

I turned, following his gaze to the table where I'd left the dinner tray.

"I hope it wasn't cold," Arlo added.

"It wasn't," I said, turning back to him. "And even if it had been, I've been a college student for four years. I've eaten my share of cold grilled cheese."

Arlo offered one of his shy smiles. "It's hard to imagine a famous food critic's daughter settling for bad sandwiches."

Memories of Mom stirred, and a smile tugged at my lips. "My mother loved comfort food. One of her favorite diners served cottage fries smothered in ranch dressing, cheese, and bacon bits."

A look of mild horror crossed Arlo's features. "Ranch dressing? Miss Ward, there's no need to be vulgar."

My smile turned to laughter. "I know it sounds gross, but the flavor combination was magic. That diner had a line out the door at lunchtime."

Arlo tilted his head. "Do you think you could make those fries for me?"

"Right now?" I couldn't help looking over his shoulder to the hallway behind him, part of me expecting Einar to appear like a vengeful god.

"Prince Einar isn't here," Arlo said, clearly reading my expression. "He'll be away from Draithmere for several days while he attends to business."

A hollow feeling settled over me. Einar was gone? I was human leverage—his primary method for forcing my father's compliance. Einar had signed a contract to keep me. And now he just…left?

"Is everything all right, Miss Ward?"

I jolted. Arlo stared at me with soft brown eyes.

"Yes," I said. "Totally fine."

"So you'll make the fries?"

He was offering me access to the kitchen. Maybe I could make some of my mother's recipes. And I didn't have to worry about crossing Einar's path. On the other hand, Arlo was most definitely on heightened prisoner-sitting duty. As much as I would have liked to think he was interested in ranch-smothered cottage fries, I couldn't make myself believe it. He probably just wanted me someplace where he could keep an eye on me. But spending the day in the kitchen was better than being cooped up in my room.

"I'd love to," I said. "As long as you're okay with ranch."

Arlo sighed, but his eyes twinkled. "I suppose I can make an exception for you."

Hours later, I stood at the sitting room window, my gaze on the horizon as the setting sun slipped behind the mountains. My back was sore, flour smudged my shirt, and my cheeks ached from laughing at Arlo's subtle—and surprisingly raunchy—humor.

We'd worked amicably side by side in the kitchen, preparing breakfast and then an ambitious lunch that included a shepherd's pie from the recipes in my mother's notebook.

"Are we calling this shepherd's pie or hachis parmentier?" I asked, referencing the French version of the same dish.

Arlo gave the layers of ground beef, cheese, and mashed potatoes a critical look. "Hmm, I think it depends on what you're serving."

"What do you mean?" I gestured to the pie. "We're serving this."

"Oh no, Miss Ward, if you're using the French pronunciation for a potato casserole, you're definitely serving cunt."

Despite my best efforts, Arlo still refused to call me Harper. But he was getting there. We'd parted ways just before dinner, each of us carrying a dinner plate of leftover shepherd's pie and chocolate chunk and sea salt cookies. Arlo had work to do in the morning, but he'd given me free reign in the kitchen. "Just don't go outside."

The latter wasn't a problem. I shivered as I stared at the maze. If I never met another pair of centaurs it would be too soon.

The last sliver of sunlight disappeared behind the mountains. Movement near the maze's entrance drew my attention. Goliath stepped from between two hedges, my corduroy jacket in his hand. He tipped his head back, his eyes locking onto me. His teeth gleamed white in his tattooed face as he lifted a hand and waved.

I waved back, my mood lifting at the sight of Goliath's cotton candy tail curling around his hip. He pointed at himself, then jabbed his finger toward the window, a question in his eyes.

"Me?" I mouthed, touching my chest. He shook his head, then flapped his arms like he was flying. He wanted to come upstairs. I looked at the bedroom door over my shoulder. When I turned back to the window, Goliath was gone. A second later, he stood beside me, a cloud of black smoke rolling around him. It rushed into my lungs, the scent like charcoal.

I spoke between coughs, my eyes watering. "How…do you…do that?"

Goliath waved my jacket around, the chain on his belt loop jingling as he dissipated the cloud. "I'm not sure, really. I can't remember a time when I wasn't able to morph." He handed me the jacket.

"Thanks." I draped the jacket over the back of the sofa. "Is that what it's called when you disappear and reappear? Morphing?"

Goliath nodded, his stubby horns catching the light. "Vampires can do it, too. I've heard rumors of a few witches with the gift, but I've never met one. Adina says it's possible but they're probably stealing powers."

"How would they do that?"

"By killing the supernatural with the gift and using their blood in a spell."

My gut clenched. "Would Adina?—?"

"Nah. Adina's cool. She doesn't murder anyone unless they deserve it."

I frowned. "That's still not?—"

"I wanted to bring your coat back, but I had another reason for coming." Goliath tipped his head toward the window. "I thought we might visit the maze again. Myrna finally returned. She feels really bad about scaring you, and she'd like to apologize."

I looked down at the maze, which now glowed under the light of a three quarter moon.

"Be a good girl and make yourself come."

Phantom desire curled low in my core. I couldn't risk venturing near the centaurs again.

I drew a deep breath as I met Goliath's gaze. "I appreciate the offer, but I can't. With Einar gone, Arlo is in charge. I don't want to do anything that might get him into trouble."

Disappointment washed over Goliath's features, but he nodded. "I get it. Arlo is a solid guy."

I smiled. "So are you, you know."

Goliath ducked his head. Under his swirling tattoos, pink dusted his cheekbones. "I don't know about that."

"Trust me." I crossed the room and grabbed the plate of cookies from the table next to the chair. "Do you think I give chocolate chunk and sea salt cookies to just anyone?"

Goliath's tail waved gently, the fuzzy tip bobbing. "I can't take all of those."

"Yes, you can. Trust me, I ate my weight in dough before they went into the oven. Take them to the maze. I've never made this recipe before, and I need some feedback. Really, you're doing me a favor."

Goliath grinned as he accepted the plate. "All right, Harper. I'll take them off your hands, but only for research purposes."

"Deal."

He left in another poof of smoke, and I went to the window and watched him reappear at the edge of the maze. With a parting wave, he stepped between the hedges and winked out of sight.

I stood at the window, my smile lingering as the sky slid from purple to a deep midnight blue. Goliath was so charming, it was hard to imagine anyone not liking him. But his inability to shift meant he had to hide in the maze.

"We're all here because we can't be anywhere else. We live peacefully. Draithmere is the only place where most of us can live at all."

And it was all because of Einar, the benevolent prince. But he'd been anything but benevolent toward me. On the contrary, he'd been arrogant and condescending. Dictatorial. And, last night, disgusted. Maybe he only extended kindness to magical creatures.

I turned from the window, a thought taking hold. Was it possible Einar disdained humans? He spoke of werewolves as inferior beings. Surely, humans were even less desirable. That had to be it. To him, I was a member of a lowly, mundane species with no magic. His lifespan might stretch half a millennium. Mine was unlikely to endure for a century. No wonder he'd been eager to leave my room after I orgasmed. My pleasure had probably repulsed him.

Follow the facts wherever they lead. Even if they were uncomfortable. Even if they led to pain.

But it didn't matter. Einar was gone, attending to "business" that was obviously an excuse to escape my company. The lofty prince of the lycans couldn't sully himself with a human. Well, he didn't have to worry. If and when Einar returned, I'd stay in my room. And the last thing I told him remained true.

I hoped I never saw him again.