Chapter 9

Nine

It’s Jimmy who undoes the chain from around my wrist. I want to be annoyed that Bran just left me here, fucked and wet and sticky, but I guess I can’t blame him when it comes to his brother.

“Thank you, Jimmy,” I tell her and rub my sore wrist, trying not to blush. “We were…I was…”

“No need to explain. We all have our kinks.” She winks at me and then turns to leave.

“Is Damien better? Is Kelly?—”

“Not yet.” She pauses at the door, her hand curled around the wood. “We’re still trying to figure it out. Bran is going to the Renshaw witches to get answers.”

“He what?” I bolt upright, forget that I’m still half naked and a mess and then grab the bedsheet to wrap around myself. “I should go with him and use my power and?—”

“He’s taking the Alpha,” Jimmy says. “And I would highly suggest you don’t go chasing after him. He’ll never let you or me forget it.”

With a grumble, I take a fold of the sheet in hand and cross the room. “I’m tired of just sitting on the sidelines. I was the one who saved us all at my Pledge.”

“Do you want my advice? Or do you just need to vent?”

“Umm…well…no one has ever asked me that.” I think for a second. “Your advice.”

“Okay.” She straightens and her hoop earrings swing with the movement. “Almost no one is an expert at something when they first begin, and power is always easier to access without training when under duress. But reaching for it might not always be that simple. You need to figure out more about your abilities before you can rely on them.”

She takes a step into the room. “Bran has been in hundreds of dangerous scenarios. He’s an expert at navigating them. And even better, he’s not so easily killed.” She tilts her head and a rogue curl of hair slides over her forehead. “You may be fae and immortal, but fae can die a lot easier than vampires.”

A shiver makes my skin crawl across my bare shoulders. She’s right, of course. And I can’t help my sister if I’m dead.

“Okay, fine.” I exhale loudly. “I won’t go running after Bran.”

She nods. “I need to get to bed before I shrivel into dust. If you need anything, there are always several of our bound mortals on duty during the day. You’ll find them in the main house.”

“Thanks.”

She gives me a quick wave of her fingers and then she’s gone.

I take a shower and dress in jeans and a tee. The house is still quiet as I leave the bedroom while running a brush through my wet hair. Beyond the Anneliese, the sky is already showing daybreak.

Where the hell is Bran?—

“Mouse.”

I yelp and jolt back.

Bran is standing behind me in the hallway.

“Goddammit! Don’t do that.”

He laughs even though he looks like he’s about to pass out on his feet. There are dark circles beneath his eyes, and bags are starting to form in the shadows. His lips are dry, the whites of his eyes bloodshot.

“Are you okay?” I ask. “Did the Renshaw witches hurt you?” I search him for injuries and find none.

“It’s past my bedtime.” He laughs again and then rests his shoulder against the corner where the hallway spills into the living room. He’s slouched, as if being upright is starting to wear on him.

“Did you get your answers? You just left me.”

His head lolls against the wall. “Would you forgive me if I apologized?”

“No.”

“Then I won’t.”

“Such an asshole.” I roll my eyes and set the brush aside. When I reach him at the hallway, I slide my hands over his stomach, feeling the tautness of his abs beneath the thin material of his shirt. “You left me chained to the bed.”

“That’s my favorite way to leave you.”

I gaze up at him and find his eyelids heavy. It’s hard to say if it’s exhaustion or lust. Maybe a little of both.

“Don’t ever do that again,” I warn him halfheartedly.

“I absolutely will.” In a flash, he grabs me, presses me against the wall, and wraps his hand around my throat. A little breath escapes me as he tilts my chin up, his lips hovering just an inch above mine.

“You did good, using your voice on me,” he says, “but I still prefer you at my mercy.”

Our breath mingles. My heart races faster, thudding against my ribs.

I may have told him never to do it again, but he and I both know I also prefer being at his mercy.

Bran picks up on it and says, “My naughty little mouse.”

Then he kisses me. It’s a slow meeting of lips first, then his tongue invades my mouth as his hips press into mine, driving me into the wall. I moan into him and he grinds his cock against me and then?—

He’s gone.

I stumble away from the wall, a little drunk with need. “You’re teasing me.”

“That’s all you get for now, little mouse.” He walks backward, disappearing into the shadows. “Come to bed with me.”

I follow the sound of his voice down the hallway, skin erupting in goosebumps as my base instinct senses the predator watching me from the darkness.

I know Bran and I have new ground to cover and our relationship has to transform as we uncover more and more about who I am and what I’m capable of, but we operate at our best when Bran has the upper hand and I submit to him.

He likes it and I like it.

We just have to figure out how to exist on equal ground outside of our relationship.

Maybe that’s the key.

Submit in the bedroom.

Assume my power outside of it and give Bran the grace he needs to find his place in that new balance.

His hand grabs mine in the dark and his touch is gentle as he guides me into the bedroom, then over to the bed. I slip off the jeans but leave the tee on. I’m not entirely sure I’m going to sleep yet.

A second later, the bed shifts beneath Bran’s weight and he slides over the thick, plush mattress to curl into me.

I notice he hasn’t said a word about the Renshaw witches or what answers he may have gotten, and I can’t help but worry it has something to do with me.

“Good night, little mouse,” he says.

“Good night.”

I wait until he’s fast asleep.

It’s hard to wake a vampire, especially in the first few hours so I don’t worry about slipping out from his embrace.

At the door, I pull it open, careful with the slant of light, and then slip out and close it softly behind me.

I’m not tired.

I don’t think I’ve ever been this keyed up, so ready to do something.

We’re supposed to meet Arion, Lord of the Summer Court, tonight. I’m excited and a little terrified. What can he possibly have to say about me? Stanley warned about the fae courts coming for me, but I don’t know how they’ll get through if the gate is still closed.

Before I leave the Anneliese, I check Kelly’s room only to find it empty. I’m not surprised, but the small flame of hope I was nurturing quickly extinguishes.

I make my way across the courtyard and into the main house. The place is much quieter in the daylight. While quieter means safer, because all of the vampires are in bed, I don’t think I like the emptiness or the silence. Duval House is supposed to be full of noise. Hearing the absence of it feels wrong.

I head to the library where a few of the pledged humans are dotted around the room, their attention on their phones or tablets or books. Soft jazz music plays through the sound system.

I go to the café counter where a guy is washing dishes in the sink.

“Excuse me,” I call.

He turns to me, then drops the dish in his hand when he realizes who I am. The dish hits the water with force, splashing it across his black apron.

“Oh shit,” he says and steps away from the sink, assessing the damage. “Sorry. Hi.”

“Hi.” I fold my arms over the counter. “Need help?”

“No. Absolutely not. Bran would kill me.”

I frown at him.

The guy ducks down and tosses a dirty towel over the mess on the floor.

“Why would he kill you?”

“You’re Jessie MacMahon,” he says. “Practically Duval House royalty now.” He straightens and slides the towel around on the floor with the toe of his black Converse sneakers. “And royalty does not do menial chores.”

I scoff and come around the counter. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m extremely serious.”

I pick up a second towel.

“Ahh-ahh,” he says, like he’s a parent scolding a child. Except we’re practically the same age.

Slowly, deliberately, I reach around him and mop up the mess on the counter. He doesn’t try to stop me. I guess royalty can do as they please.

“See.” I toss the towel into a nearby bucket. “No murdering or maiming.”

The guy crosses his arms over his chest and his biceps swell against the sleeves of his gray t-shirt.

He’s thick and muscular, but just a few inches taller than I am with messy blond hair that hangs in his face. There’s a hoop earring in his left nostril and a full tattoo sleeve on his right arm. The tattoo is of a gorgeous shieldmaiden with a dark, stormy sky behind her and blackbirds in flight.

“You know my name,” I say to him, “but I don’t know yours.”

He smirks.

“What?”

“It’s King, actually.”

“Wait…seriously?”

Ducking his head, he tries to hide his embarrassment. “Kingston is my full name. Everyone calls me King.”

“I thought royalty didn’t do menial chores?”

He laughs to himself, a quick shot of air through his nose. “The name is ridiculous. I will give you that.”

“No, I like it.” I offer him my hand. “It’s nice to meet you, King.”

There is a second of hesitation, like he actually believes the lie he’s telling, that I’m somehow above him and shouldn’t be engaged with. But he finally shakes.

“Nice to meet you too, Jessie. Formerly .”

“Now that we got that out of the way…could I use your phone?”

I left my phone at Duval House when I went with Stanley to the diner, but I keep forgetting to charge it. At home, I had a routine—set my phone on the cordless charger on my desk right before I went to bed. Now my routine is all screwed up and my charger is still at the house.

It might be time I admit to myself that I’ve officially moved into Duval House, and if that’s the case, I need to move some of my things here too.

King pulls his cell from the back pocket of his jeans and unlocks the screen. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.”

He returns to the sink and picks up another dish to wash.

Because I was smart enough to memorize Sam’s number in case of emergency, I easily tap it out and connect. She answers groggily on the fifth ring. “Who is this and what do you want?”

“It’s me. My phone is dead. I know it’s early?—”

“How early?”

“Like nine?” I lie. It’s actually closer to eight, but I don’t want Sam to veto this idea before I get it out.

With a grumble, she readjusts the phone and says, “Speak.”

“Right after you left the diner last night, I was visited by a fae lord.”

There’s another rustle of fabric through the phone. “I’m sorry…did you say, ‘fae lord?’”

“My mom used to be in charge of the mortal census, do you remember?”

“Yeah,” Sam says.

“And do you remember what she used to complain about every year?”

“Trying to track down all of the fae and getting them to cooperate.”

“Right. Because it was decided that the mortal court system would take on the responsibility of managing the fae records.”

Sam sounds like she’s moving now. “So you want to go to the mortal court and see if you can find records on this fae lord?”

“You know me so well,” I answer.

Keys jingle in Sam’s hand. “Mom, I’m leaving!” she yells through her house. To me she says, “This is the only time I will ever get out of bed early.”

“What better reason than to go dig up dirt on a fae lord?”

“You have a good point.”

“I’ll meet you there in ten minutes?”

“Already walking out the door.”

We hang up and I hand the phone back to King. “Thanks. I’ll see you around?”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” He bows with a laugh.

Sam and I meet outside the mortal court. Her strawberry blonde hair is braided into two messy braids that hang over her shoulders. Several wispy strands flutter in the warm morning breeze.

There is an oversized vintage movie t-shirt tied into a loose knot at her hips so that the material hugs her waist. She’s wearing cut-off denim shorts, white tennis shoes, and sunglasses with a horn-rimmed flare to the frame.

Despite clearly throwing together this outfit as she stumbled from bed, she looks effortless. Neither of us has ever been particularly fashion focused, not like Kelly. But somehow Sam has always pulled off a look that feels intentional and rebellious at the same time.

“Good morning,” I tell her.

“You lied about the time.” She follows me up the cement steps.

“I rounded up.”

She scoffs and when we enter into the darker hallway of the courthouse, Sam slides the sunglasses atop her head. She may be tired, but I’d recognize that glint of excitement anywhere.

Sam’s big family may be chaotic, but they love their game nights, and Sam is always on the hunt for a win. This is just another game to play and she loves it, even if she’s complaining about getting out of bed.

In the clerk’s office, we find Alice behind the counter stapling packets of paper. When she spots me, her eyes get big. In the cubicle beside her, the dark-haired girl, who I recall was here when Bran and I fucked in the waiting room, stops clicking on her keyboard.

Alice yanks nervously at the hem of her blouse. “Jessie! Hi! What can I do for you?”

I lean over, as if I’m sharing a secret. “I need help finding some information on one of the fae. Is it possible you could help with that?”

She runs her tongue over her lips. “Um…okay. What fae are you looking for?”

“Arion?” I wince just hearing his name out loud, knowing that I’m technically breaking the rules and getting a little bit too nosy for my own good. I’m sure Bran has a much subtler way of getting this info, but the curiosity is getting the best of me and I’m not entirely sure Bran wants to dig up this information.

The dark-haired girl pushes away from her desk and disappears through a side door. I spot her name plate on the corner of her desk. Hailey. I can’t seem to place her at a House. Is she vampire, shifter, witch pledged? She doesn’t strike me as someone who would choose to be a virgin her entire life.

But can she be trusted?

“If you want to have a seat in the waiting room, I’ll see what I can dig up,” Alice says.

“Perfect. Thank you.”

The waiting room smells like it looks—like it’s a time capsule from another era.

“If your mom was still working here, she’d just let us go digging into the archives,” Sam says and pops some change into a soda machine.

“Not if we wanted to know about the fae.” I sit in one of the chairs next to the window that overlooks the parking lot. “Looking back, I realize she tried to keep me from interacting with the fae. Even when I babysat for the Leaf family, she would try talking me out of it.”

Sam ducks down to grab her can of cola. “Knowing what you know now, clearly she was trying to keep you from finding answers.”

“Yep.” I slouch in the chair and fold my arms over my chest. I’m not tired, exactly. Just worn out and afraid.

I’m worried for my sister. I have yet to check in on her. I’m terrified of what I might find or how it’ll make me feel to see her helpless in bed yet again, all because of me.

If I push it down deep and focus on this instead— go, go, go —maybe the wait for answers about my sister won’t be so hard to endure.

Sam sits beside me and her can clangs open when she flicks the tab. She takes a long gulp and then hands it off to me. I could use the caffeine.

“So you want to tell me how last night went with the Alpha?” I ask.

Speaking of ways to distract myself from my own problems…

Sam takes the can back after I’ve had a long drink. “We barely spoke in his truck. There isn’t much to report.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

“Nothing. I’m just going to ignore him until he goes away.”

I laugh. “I have a suspicion that someone like Cal does not just go away .”

Sam rolls her eyes.

“Maybe he—” My words are cut off by a shadow in the waiting room doorway. I look up to see Arion, Lord of the Summer Court, leaning casually against the door frame.

“Hello, faeling,” he says. “I hear you’re trying to unearth my secrets. Let me save you the trouble.” He moves with an ethereal quickness that catches me off guard. And suddenly he’s standing in front of me, hauling me to my feet.