Chapter 4

Voices drew me to consciousness, and memory came rushing back—the carriage ride, the attack, the silver forest wolves, then Ezekiel. I’d almost died, but I’d been saved, and now…Now I was in a bed. Warm beneath a blanket. But there was no pain—strange considering I’d been bitten twice.

The male voices continued to rumble, and I tuned in, keeping my breathing even and deep, feigning sleep to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“Another turn of the clock,” one of the men said—the one from the road who’d sounded almost bored by everything.

“Any sign of her?” This growly voice belonged to the guy who’d carried me. I was tempted to open my eyes, wanting to get a look at the man who’d smelled like sweet evergreen, but resisted the urge.

“Not yet,” his companion replied with a sigh. “But she’ll arrive soon enough. She always does—if not now, then by the night of the ball.”

Who were they talking about?

“It will be different this time,” growly guy said.

“I do love your optimism, brother.” He sighed. “Or should I say delusion?”

Brothers…Wait, could they be the hunters the Order had sent for me? They’d seemed to recognize my emblem, and if I recalled correctly, they’d mentioned the chapter house.

I felt a shadow fall over me, and this time when the growly man spoke his voice was close, hovering above me. “She almost died. If we hadn’t been on the road at that exact moment…”

“Fate had no part in this,” his companion snapped. “It was luck, pure and simple. Lucky for her and us. This job is hard enough without losing manpower, and the fact that she made it to the road means she’ll be an asset to the team. She can keep the chapter running while we?—”

“She’s awake.”

My pulse stuttered.

“Eavesdropping, huh?” the other guy said. “Nice.”

The jig was up, so I opened my eyes to soft amber lighting and the shadowy bulk of two large men standing, one at the foot of my bed and the other beside it. My attention went to the closest of the two. To the gray sweats hugging his powerful thighs with determination, and upward to…oh…my…

“Um, I think you’ve mesmerized her with your crotch,” the other guy said.

My cheeks heated, and I quickly lifted my gaze to jogger guy’s face and found myself the scrutiny of eyes the color of a summer ocean set in a broad, handsome face. He had a neatly clipped beard, so pale blond it was almost white, just like his shoulder-length hair, which was pulled back in a half pony.

If my best friend Nyx was here, I was sure she’d have a handy quip, something snappy and witty to defuse the obvious tension my ogling had created, but all I could manage was, “Dracul territory has a dress code, you know.”

“Says the woman wearing denim,” the other guy said.

Tall and wiry, he’d made a concession to the dress code with a long black coat, black shirt, waistcoat, and fitted pants. He’d flipped up his collar so that it framed his crimson cravat, adding a flourish to his ensemble. Whereas golden boy gave me summer day vibes, this guy was all winter nights with the hint of a storm on the horizon.

“Getting clothes in my size is…difficult,” golden boy said. “I’m Ordell, by the way. This is my brother, Hemlock.”

Yep, these were my guys. “Is this the chapter house?” I’d barely looked around the room. It was gloomy as hell with only one oil lamp to light the space, a space these men ate up with their presence.

“Yes,” Ordell said. “But you’ll probably be spending a lot of time at the castle.”

The thought of being around that monster made my skin crawl, but he was my main job, the main reason I’d been sent here. “Yeah, been there already, didn’t get a tour, though, just a room in his dungeons.” I examined my arm, the one that had been bitten. My shirt was shredded, but the skin was unmarred. My shoulder felt fine too. “You gave me something on the road. It healed me?”

“No, just neutralized the toxin,” Ordell said. “They have a healer on staff here who patched you up. A half-blood fae by the name of Merry Kin.”

Half-blood fae rarely left the Evergreen, but I knew the Order kept associations with a few. I’d never heard of one being on staff, though. “I’d like to thank her.”

“She passed out,” Hemlock said. “Healing you took it out of her. I’m sure you’ll see her in the morning. But forget that. I want to know about your trip to the castle.”

“Not by choice, trust me. Got plucked out of the Silverwood by Ezekiel’s bat minion just before the wolves shredded me.” I sat up, wincing at the ache in my limbs, and filled them in on the last few hours, my encounter with Ezekiel, and what he did to Mary and Jeremy. “I promised to protect them, and I failed.” I gritted my teeth. “He could have fed and let them go, but he chose to kill them.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “He’s a sick monster.”

“But he let you live…” Hemlock said. “Even when you turned down his deal. That’s a good sign.”

He was looking at me as if I was some kind of puzzle to solve when it wasn’t that complicated. “He knew about the toxin. He can’t kill me, remember. Not directly, anyway.”

Hemlock didn’t look convinced, but I didn’t care what he thought.

“How did you escape?” Ordell asked. “Make it all the way to the road?”

Yeah, I’d been thinking about this one, mulling it over, because I didn’t understand it. “Bat boy helped. No idea why.”

They exchanged glances but said nothing.

“I need food. I need to get my strength back up.” And figure out how to manipulate an ancient bloodthirsty vampire. I swung my legs off the bed, and Ordell backed up to give me room to stand. On my feet, I was at eye level with his pectorals. The guy had to be at least six-five, maybe six-six. The room was suddenly too crowded. I needed out.

I stepped around his frame and away from the pair of them.

“Do we make you nervous, Orina?” Hemlock edged closer, bringing the scent of leather and machine oil with him. I locked my knees, resisting the urge to back up. “We can’t have that. If you’re going to be dealing with Ezekiel, then you need to have nerves of steel.”

I glared up at him. “Pretty sure surviving a dungeon encounter and escaping being shackled to a wall qualifies me on that front, but thanks for the insight.”

“Then why is your pulse racing? Doesn’t the Order teach you to moderate your emotions?”

He had a provocative mouth, the corners slightly lifted as if they wanted to smile but were forbidden from doing so. That mouth contradicted the chill in his frostbite blue eyes, and that discrepancy sent a shiver up my spine. “I moderate just fine, thank you. But I’m pretty sure my blood sugar is low, and I need food, so if you don’t mind, back the fuck up.” I needed him to move. To give me space. He was too close. The room was too fucking small.

“Hemlock,” Ordell said, his tone soft yet filled with warning. “Leave her be.”

Hemlock held my gaze, his frame acting like a cage swallowing my personal space. “Answer me.” He moved closer, and my vision tunneled.

“I don’t like confined spaces.” I hated the snap to my tone that told him I was affected. “Look…you two make this small room feel like a box.”

It was a new fear, one that had crept up on me the last few months. One I was determined to conquer just like all the others.

“Great, a claustrophobic,” Hemlock drawled. “Thank your stars he shackled you to a wall and didn’t just nail you into one of his guest coffins.”

There was something telling in that sentence, but my brain was too fried to compute.

“Hem…” Ordell said.

Hemlock stepped out of my personal space, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smug smile. “Don’t worry, we’re leaving. We have a patrol to complete.”

Patrol was the perfect chance to get a real lay of the land, but I needed to get my strength up first. “Let me grab a bite and I’ll come with you.”

“No!” they said in unison.

What the—? “Last I checked, I was in charge of the chapter house and the Order members.”

“Oh, you are.” Hemlock strode to the door, then looked back, his eyes gleaming over the edge of his upturned collar. “But we’re not members of the Order.” He walked out, leaving the door open in his wake.

I turned to Ordell, still standing by the bed, arms crossed over his powerful chest, and was once again struck by the sheer size of the man. “Is your brother going to be a problem?”

“Only if you make him one.”

I arched a brow. “Excuse me?”

He pressed his lips together for a beat, then exhaled through his nose. “Hemlock is an excellent hunter. But he doesn’t take orders, and neither do I. We’re here to help keep you safe so you can do your job. That is our only remit. Stay inside tonight. We’ll see you at noon for breakfast.” He crossed to the door, and I followed.

“You mentioned a woman? You said she was coming to a ball?”

“I mentioned the ball but nothing about a woman.”

I was sure he had, but he looked genuinely perplexed. Maybe I’d misheard? “Sorry, I…I’m wiped.”

“Ask cook to make you a plate. Get some rest. There’s a map of the house on the desk by the lamp.” He ducked out of the room, closing the door softly behind him.

The map was a sketch made in ink on aging paper. They really did take the whole Gothic era seriously here.

When Micah had explained the setup, I’d honestly thought he was joking. But no, the vampires who ruled this territory were stuck in the past. A past not many people remembered. But then, if the shifters and the demons were free to rule their territories as they saw fit, then why not the vampires?

I gave the map a quick once-over, committing the schematic to memory, then tucked it into my pocket, just in case. There was no sign of my cases, which meant they either hadn’t arrived or had arrived but not been brought up to this room.

I headed off in search of the kitchens and answers, stomach rumbling.

My body was a weapon that needed fuel, and all I could do was hope that this chapter had some quality sustenance.