Chapter Fifteen
I arrived at the Avalon a few hours later, on my feet this time, with suitcase in hand. I’d exchanged my ruined clothes for a pair of jeans and cropped white tank, opting for comfort if my near future included countless gowns. I braced myself for judgmental looks from the wealthy clientele only to find the hotel vacant.
But any relief I felt vanished when I spotted Ciara and Lachlan arguing in an alcove near the front entrance. His head lifted, a grin ghosting his face when he saw me. Before I could catch what they were saying—or rather, yelling—Shaw approached from my left, his strong hand gripped my elbow, and he dragged me into a sitting room off the lobby. A clock ticked faintly over the stone mantel, its steady rhythm at odds with the rising pitch of the disagreement outside.
“I’d give them a minute,” Shaw advised me.
Roark sat on a leather stool nearby, examining his nails with an intensity that told me he was listening to every word being hurled across the lobby. He grimaced at whatever he heard, adjusting the signet ring on his right hand.
I opened my mouth to ask Shaw what they were fighting over, since I could only pick up snatches, when Ciara shrieked, “You didn’t tell me we were hosting a bacchanalia!”
It sounded like things were going well in there. That meant Lachlan would be in a foul mood. Then again, it was a day that ended in y. As far as I knew, he only had two modes: ill-tempered or drunk on his own superiority.
“Should we intervene?” I had no idea what kind of damage they could do if magic got involved.
Shaw moved closer, keeping his voice even more hushed as the argument rose to a fever pitch. “Ciara is just blindsided.”
I felt the blood drain from my face. “I thought she knew about his plans.”
“She agreed to the betrothal.” Glass shattered in the lobby. I flinched, but Shaw continued smoothly. “She just wants to get things over with, but the Infernal Court wants to do things the old-fashioned way. A dowry and calling the banns and all the feasts and parties. Lach knew, and he forgot to mention it until now. I don’t see why she’s so upset, though. It’s all an excuse for everyone to get rip-roaring drunk, smoke cigars, and make bad decisions.”
At least he was being honest. “Bad decisions, huh?”
“Several, and usually at the same time,” he admitted.
“While drunk? That seems smart.”
“That is the problem with immortality. You can do a lot of stupid shit.” He pushed a hand through his copper hair. “Well, that and trying to figure out what to eat for dinner every night.”
“I guess things aren’t that different for fae and humans after all,” I teased, but I understood why Ciara was upset. I had my own deadline looming, at the end of which was either freedom or a life sentence. She had to feel the same way. I didn’t blame her for wanting to get it over with.
Ciara stormed into the sitting room, halting when she saw me. Her lower lip trembled slightly, but she forced her mouth into a bright smile. “I suppose he told you everything.”
I didn’t know what to say.
She swiped at a renegade tear and waved her manicured hand. “I’m not mad at you.” From the way she said it, I knew exactly who she was mad at. “At least this nightmare will give me a chance to finally get to know Lach’s new friend. He’s been keeping you all to himself.”
I was about to correct that misapprehension, but Lachlan did it for me. “You do love to hear yourself speak.”
Ciara stuck her tongue out at him. It was such a sisterly thing to do that I nearly laughed. “No one asked for your opinion, but I do want to know what spa Cate prefers. If you’re forcing her to attend a bacchanalia, the least we can do is spoil her first.”
“She’s a person, not a doll,” he warned her. “Perhaps you could ask her what she’d like to do.”
“It’ll be fun,” Ciara said primly, “which seems to be something the rest of you struggle with.”
He rolled his eyes. “You mean that you know how to blow through a bank account.”
“We can’t all sit at home, brooding and waiting for something to kill.” Ciara turned to me expectantly.
Oh, right. Spas. I twisted the necklace awkwardly. “I, uh…I don’t have a preference.” Spoiling myself at a spa hadn’t exactly been a priority when I’d been struggling to survive.
Lachlan glanced at me, something tightening around his eyes, and I knew he’d heard what I hadn’t said. “Do you want to go?”
I dropped the necklace like it was on fire.
What was he playing at? Was he looking out for me? If so, that was surprisingly…thoughtful.
The last thing I needed in my already confusing life was a thoughtful Lachlan. I needed him to be arrogant and annoying or my hormones would win before I made it a whole month.
“Are you going to be there?” I asked him, trying to reverse course. When he shook his head, I smiled. “Then, yes. I’d love to go to the spa with you, Ciara. And shopping to spend all your brother’s ill-gotten gains. And whatever else you want to do.”
Shaw, who’d been hanging back—probably trying to stay out of his brother’s way—coughed to hide a laugh. Lachlan’s mouth tightened into a thin line. I felt bad for half a second, but Ciara giggled as well. “I think I’m going to like her. We’ll go first thing tomorrow.”
Maybe it was guilt, or maybe I was being played, but I decided in that moment I wasn’t just going to pretend to be Ciara’s friend—I was going to actually be her friend. And Shaw’s, too, if he let me.
“What about Fiona?” I asked. “Will she be coming to this bacchanalia thing?”
Ciara’s smile faded, and she shook her head, dark curls spilling over her shoulders. “No. She got out of it.”
Oh. Maybe someday one of them would tell me why Fiona avoided her family or why everyone tensed at the mention of her name. I certainly wasn’t going to risk asking and dredging up that shit myself.
Roark unfolded himself from the armchair and joined us, clapping his hand on Lachlan’s shoulder in sympathy. “Fiona isn’t the heir to the Nether throne. That comes with perks.”
“Thanks for reminding me,” Lachlan grumbled.
Roark shook him a little. “Cheer up. You can still get in plenty of trouble. We’ve doubled the usual amount of security. Even the crown prince can let loose with whomever he chooses.”
Did I imagine Roark’s eyes flashing in my direction?
I crossed my arms. “I’m beginning to think I’m going to be everyone’s babysitter for the next few weeks.” That was probably for the best. It wasn’t like I hadn’t let loose plenty when I was younger. But I’d paid dearly for it.
Lachlan took a step closer, his mouth curling softly as it lifted with his mood. “What? You aren’t interested in a little trouble?”
My heart dipped dangerously at his words. His eyes smoldered into mine, the very embodiment of trouble standing before me.
I resisted the urge to retreat. “Unlike you, I don’t need trouble to have a good time.”
“But that’s the best kind.” He leaned so close that I saw the gold flecks in his irises for what they really were: sparks of mischief. “I could give you a few pointers.”
“I’m pretty sure all you’ll ever give me is a headache.”
“Maybe you should keep an open mind.”
He was so close, I could taste his breath on my lips. Why did he have to be so fucking beautiful? With his stupid, sexy magic and those eyes? “Maybe you should—”
Ciara coughed, and we snapped apart. Lachlan looked as startled to remember we weren’t alone as I felt.
“Thank the gods,” Roark muttered behind us. “I was beginning to suffocate with all the sexual tension.”
Lachlan flipped him off. “Choke on this.”
I groaned. “Infantile.”
“Come on,” Ciara urged me, shooting one final scowl in her brother’s direction. “We’ll hit the spa later. For now, let’s go raid the bar.”
Finally, a plan I could get behind. But before she could drag me away, Lachlan snagged the waistband of my jeans and hauled me close enough to whisper, “You know, princess, I think trouble is exactly what you need.”
I yanked away, cheeks burning, and forced a scowl. He only laughed as he turned to leave with Roark, and as he walked away, I couldn’t help feeling like I’d made a big mistake.
I was at the mercy of Lachlan’s charms for the next month. How soon before he convinced me he was right?