3. Chapter 3
3
Nelle
G raysen and I strode in silence through the vastness of my home. We left the emptiness of my wing to traverse the endless hallways and elegant open spaces that showcased our wealth and reign in antiques and treasures, heading toward my mother’s favorite room, where we all were gathering tonight.
Even before we reached the smoky-glass doors at the end of a long stretch of hallway, a wave of noise crashed over me. Clashing sounds fought for my attention. It was like scrolling through the bandwidth of a radio—opposing stations cutting through minuscule pockets of silence. A reckless symphony with no melody.
With my enhanced hearing, I could hear every single person behind those doors and what they were saying and doing.
Gushing over Paris—its fashion and nightlife.
Polite comments on the room, our mansion, and our taste in furnishing.
Questions regarding our family—When was my elder sister’s baby due?
How was the journey from the Carpellean mountains to our estate?—Long and dull.
I hummed a low note.
Graysen cocked an eyebrow, giving me an odd look, but I ignored him to concentrate on the vibration in my throat. I latched onto the deep timbre to drown out the chink of crystal and pouring liquid; chewing mouths and swallowing throats; whispers of fabric, footsteps, and conversation.
Just focus.
Focus on silence.
It took as long as the walk down the hallway, Sage keeping pace beside me, to push aside all those sounds and bring up a wall of white noise .
Guards stood on either side of the doors. At our arrival, they opened them up for us, and then we were sweeping past, stepping inside the room.
This was a smaller, more intimate room than many others that graced our home. Gold embossed paper with a garden motif adorned the walls; a theme which was followed through by the potted plants beautifying the space. Light spilled from a crystal tear-drop chandelier onto parquet flooring, polished cane, and rattan seating.
My mother greeted me with a slight slur to her speech. “Nelle, sweetheart.” She never drank, but she chewed back those tiny, white pills like tic-tacs.
Graysen bowed. “Marissa.”
She gave a polite dip of her head. “Graysen.” Nervous fingers twitched as she brushed a hand over the graying hair at her temple before averting her gaze as if the very sight of him scalded her.
She frowned. “Oh, come here, Nelle. Let me fix your hair.” I hugged my book to my chest, trying not to squirm as she fussed with the tendrils that I hadn’t quite woven into my fishtail braid. She tucked them into place before drawing a step back to stare at me with wonder. “You look so pretty this evening.”
I tried to ignore the dark eyes by my side, studying me. A slash of inky brows drew forward as Graysen finally took me in—how I looked and what I was wearing. Surprise flared across his handsome features. Yes, it wasn’t often I played up my looks with makeup. But tonight was different. Tonight, Danne was here.
My gaze skipped about the room, over his family and brothers, but I couldn’t spot Danne among them.
“Come, come,” my mother urged. “We’ve been waiting for you both.”
As she walked beside me, I noted the glassy sheen to her eyes and the rattling noise of the pills in her pocket that always accompanied her movements. She’d become more anxious and frailer in recent years. However, the vast planning needed for this engagement party of Evvie’s, and the oncoming wedding, had been good for her. There’d been more smiles, more excitement than I’d seen in a long time. But these days, it seemed it was all she and Evvie did—sifting through dress fabric; organizing seating arrangements; choosing the perfect invitation font and making choices between flora. It left them both with little time for me.
I was lonely. That was the sad truth of it all.
So I took what I could from her at this moment, linking my arm around her bony one, letting my body warm and cradle her fragile frame.
As we moved deeper into the room, our guests, the Pellans, stared blatantly.
Sage might be at my heels, but another wolf was stalking beside me as I headed toward my father. There was as much wariness of Graysen as of Sage.
Graysen dominated the room with his presence. An intoxicating mixture of power and ruthlessness. An ominous hint of a winter storm.
Everyone here, including my father, wielded words as their weapons, but Graysen’s entire body was a honed weapon. He didn’t need the knives and swords I’d seen strapped to his powerful physique. He could end every single person here without a drop of blood staining his shiny leather shoes.
And he knew it, too. The slight, smug curve to his lips gave him away.
He was a cocky sonovabitch.
I scanned our guests.
The elder Pellans had produced seven children with freckled skin and varying shades of red hair—from deep auburn to strawberry blond. The two younger sisters leaned closer to one another, their noses wrinkling and mouths puckering as they stared at me while they whispered amongst themselves.
I was well aware of the rumors of me floating about the room, why I was rarely seen and kept myself to the estate.
Odd.
Too many people made me nervous.
I suffered from panic attacks.
In some way, they were right.
Yet, they never suspected I was other. Usually, at a young age, it became apparent a child was other from temper tantrums that flew out of control. But the wrong people had never caught mine out. The creature could shield itself from prying sight. And no one here would suspect what I was, as long as I kept calm.
Ignoring the younger girls, I loosened a loop on my adamere necklace I’d wrapped around a wrist as a bracelet and comforted myself by weaving the beads through my fingers.
Servants were handing out champagne flutes as our two families gathered about my father. Curiosity itched like a stinging insect. It was supposed to be a casual gathering marking the arrival of House Pellan from their seat held in the Carpellean mountain ranges. But there were other Heads of Upper Houses here tonight, too.
Not all of them, but enough to worry me. Their presence spoke of more than an informal get-together.
What is going on?
I frowned, shooting Graysen a swift glance. He’d had a bad day. I’d made a joke of it, referring to his place of work as an office. Graysen didn’t work in an office like most businessmen did. The Crowthers were positioned below Upper House Novak, who ruled over the cartels and crime syndicates. They were our distribution line to the mortal masses; funneling drugs down and money up. Graysen and his brothers worked as enforcers for the Novaks, keeping the crime lords under control.
We took a position near my father. Graysen stood beside me, but not close enough to touch me. He had never touched me, not once in all those years since signing the marriage contract, nor on the days we were forced together once I’d turned nineteen. Yet this time, his hand hovered at the small of my back. That mysterious hyperawareness sparked along my spine.
Does he feel it too?
I glanced up at him. Despite the mask of boredom, there was a razor-sharp tension in the line of his body.
What… Or who inspired such a reaction?
My eyes widened.
The Pellans—being hemmed in by them—he didn’t like it at all.
His dark gaze flicked to mine, aware of my intrigue, and he knew I’d figured it out.
I shot him a hate-glare, one that said I wished he’d be bitten by a plague-ridden flea.
He merely smirked in reply. Curiously, I realized, the tension eased from his taut shoulders as if my bitter scorn re-centered him. And his hand remained near my back.
My father had always seemed large and intimidating, but standing close to Graysen, he seemed somehow diminished. His authority reminded me of a suit he put on every morning—something that could be easily stripped off and discarded. Graysen’s authority came as easily as breathing. Even the heads of the Upper Houses straightened their spines and angled themselves in his direction.
Now that I was getting older, I saw the chinks and dents in my father’s tarnished armor. The romantic eyes I used to hold him in as a child had been worn away. I could see him a little more clearly these days. The mantle of ruling over the Houses was too heavy for him. He was tired and suspicious, which made him more ruthless with us, his daughters.
Evvie had been his sacrifice to the Crowthers five years ago. The Crowthers hadn’t taken our bait. Instead, they’d chosen me. But this time Evvie was to be sacrificed to another House—the Pellans .
At my arrival, all the Pellans bowed respectfully, some darting nervous looks at the enormous wraith-wolf standing beside me. Sage’s ghostly, misty form bristled as he surveyed the room for any threat.
Carola, the eldest daughter, took advantage of sweeping her upper body into a bow to reveal a generous cleavage for Graysen’s sake. By the smug smile I caught him making, the gesture didn’t go unnoticed.
A flash of irritation heated my blood.
But whatever, they were welcome to one another if they wished.
A servant handed me a flute of champagne as we waited for my father to begin. “The Horned Gods.” My father’s voice rumbled through the space as he raised his glass.
The room echoed with the sentiment.
Our world was steeped in tradition. We were a criminal underworld lurking at the fringes of polite society at the beck and call of those we served—the Horned Gods. We were their servants and had been born into our roles, as our ancestors had before us, for millennia. Though we might live in a modern world of freedom, we were still enslaved to those otherworldly beasts.
We raised our glasses and took a sip of champagne before my father continued. “To Evelene and Corné.” His smile was broad as his proud gaze landed on Evvie. She glowed shyly under everyone’s attention while she stood next to her fiancé, his arm wrapped around her waist. “To the joining of House Pellan to Great House Wychthorn. Welcome.”
My father spoke further, but I’d already tuned him out as I searched through our guests for Danne. I couldn’t see his sunny smile amongst any of his brothers.
Disappointment crushed me.
He wasn’t here.
I didn’t understand why he hadn’t come with the rest of his family.
When the welcome speeches ended, our party broke up into smaller groups as we all drifted apart. I clasped my mother’s arm. “Momma, do you need anything?”
She smiled, patting my hand. “No. Best I go speak with Irma.” She nodded toward the Pellans’ mother. She was a cold, aloof woman. However, I’d begun to wonder if it was a mask she wore. One that had become attached through hardship and habit. I didn’t like that one bit. It didn’t bode well for my sister.
Evvie slipped to my side, looping her arm with mine, shooting Graysen a foul glare that warmed my soul. She might be gentle, but she was all claws when it came to me.
Graysen rolled his eyes before stalking off to a quiet corner of the room to make a phone call. I didn’t bother listening in. I didn’t care.
Over the past five years, my sister had grown into an ethereal beauty. She wore a simple dress tonight that was several shades lighter than her oceanic irises. Her tawny hair, a sheen of gold and bronze, was swept up on one side and pinned with a barrette glittering with diamonds. But it was her bright soul that made her eclipse everyone else in this room.
I loved her dearly.
Suddenly, my stomach grumbled so loud anyone in the near vicinity heard it. She laughed, bumping her shoulder into mine, earning herself a grin. “Come on, let’s fill you up.” She knew I’d be ravenous after burning myself out in the woodland. And I was starving. My body would soon enter that languorous phase and I’d be falling asleep on my feet.
Servants offered canapes on silver trays. However, there was an oak side table holding delicacies and more substantial dishes. I fished around in a diced salad and found a handful of vegetables to gnaw on. Evvie laughed. “That’s not going to fill you up.” She snatched the entire bowl and swapped it for the ancient tome I clutched in my other hand. Her gaze dropped to its title, which was barely legible on the leather-bound cover. “You and your fascination for dusty old books,” she grinned. Then teased, “More monster hunting?”
Little did she know how close she was to the truth.
She placed the book at the end of the running table before clasping my upper arm with a hand and leaning closer. I popped a piece of broccoli coated in a lemony dressing and small chunks of almond into my mouth, chewing and savoring the deliciousness. Finishing my mouthful, I tried asking lightly, “Danne…is?” hoping I didn’t sound like a disappointed idiot.
“Ascendria, working,” Evvie whispered back, squeezing my arm in shared commiseration. “I’m sorry he couldn’t make it tonight. I know how much you were looking forward to seeing him.”
I shrugged. “We’re just friends.”
But do I want us to be more than friends?
Maybe.
“Mhmm,” Evvie hummed, an amused arch to her brow.
“Friends,” I reiterated. Then I crunched down on a sliver of carrot, indulging myself in a fantasy of possibilities, muttering, “Though I’d much prefer to marry him rather than the Lord of Darkness,” as I took in Graysen’s tense physique. The language seemed terse as he spoke into his phone with his broad back turned to those gathered. My interest prickled with sudden curiosity as I wondered who he was talking to. Honing in on his voice, I overheard him grit out his older brother’s name, Kenton , as he interrupted some banal question.
Turning my attention to my sister, Evvie and I breezed through the room and the guests. Wherever I walked, a path was cleared for me. I knew it wasn’t just because of my status—a Wychthorn—but my enormous companion prowling at my heels, his mist-shadowed form rippling with a predatory gait.
We drifted near open French doors. Storm clouds were rolling in, dousing the warmth of the evening, and there was a moist promise of rain in the air. In the distance came the sound of trucks rumbling across the lawn as a few of the contractors finished delivering equipment. Tomorrow they’d begin assembling the colossal marquee, and the event planner my mother had recruited would oversee an extensive orchestra of employed help to build a stunning setting where we’d entertain all the Houses and host the engagement celebration two nights from now.
My gaze roamed the room.
Here we were: the next generation of Wychthorns and Pellans to serve the Horned Gods.
Everyone wore expensive bespoke suits or designer dresses with red-soled shoes. Ostentatious jewelry sparkled from all the women attending too. I found it hard to wear such things, not because the touch of them itched my skin, but because it seemed wrong.
Our wealth came from our empire.
Drugs.
Illegal gambling.
Prostitution.
All of it woven through with magic to entice one more high, one more bet, one more mind-blowing orgasm.
The money we reaped on behalf of the Horned Gods paid for our expensive toys, the private jets, the mansions, and travel to exotic places. All we had to do was to serve the Horned Gods and protect them with our lives. We also needed to provide their whims and fancies with flesh—mortals.
“I can’t wait to see Lise,” Evvie said, interrupting my dark thoughts. Excitement punctuated every syllable as her long fingers fluttered around my arm.
I shook off my unease and grinned back at her. We hadn’t seen Annalise for a few months, and she promised we could rub her pregnant belly anytime we felt like it. She’d be arriving here on the evening of Evvie’s engagement celebration.
“Aunties,” Evvie sighed, her gaze going a little distant. “I’m so excited. It’ll be a girl.”
“A boy,” I shot back. Lise and Aldan had chosen to let it be a surprise.
Evvie nudged me with her elbow. “A girl. It has to be. Just like us.”
Evvie’s fiancé, Corné, suddenly made his appearance right beside my sister, his stare shifting between us as his mouth curved into a curious smile. “What are you two talking about?”
“Becoming aunties,” Evvie told him, shyness creeping into her voice and into the way she looked at him.
Corné was the same height as Evvie. He wore a dashing navy suit that was tailored to fit his lean body. With his ginger hair slicked back, he reminded me of a younger version of his father, but his features were less narrow and pointy, more pleasant to look at. But I’d seen the careful way he watched my sister. Often checking to see how she carried herself and how she spoke to others. I’d begun to suspect she wasn’t Evvie to him, but a reflection of how everyone else saw him.
I wondered what might happen if he became displeased with her.
“The Horned Gods took one of House Simonis’ children,” Corné replied, twirling his tumbler, golden liquid lapping the crystal sides. Derision tainted his tone. “They’d tried to hide the boy. Some little cabin in the middle of nowhere.” He snorted. “Stupid of them to even try.”
My blood chilled. Firstly, because why the hells did he have to say that? To us, who’d just been talking about our pregnant sister? Evvie paled as her thoughts naturally turned to Lise and her unborn child.
Secondly—here I was, standing before him.
My father had been clever. I was a secret hidden in plain sight.
“What kind of other was the boy?” I asked.
“He could manipulate aether. A storm-weaver.” Corné took a sip of his scotch, his bitter breath feathering out to irritate my nostrils. “They were lucky their entire House wasn’t wiped out. But the child’s mother sacrificed herself.”
I stared at Corné, shocked at how dismissively he spoke. House Simonis was their Lower House. The Simonises were pledged to the Pellans and worked for them. He probably knew the child’s parents, and yet he showed absolutely no compassion for the child or for the mother whose life was taken in exchange for the safety of her family.
I blinked, as I realized that Corné’s attention was now fixed on Graysen, who paced the corner while raking a hand through his hair as he continued his conversation with his brother.
Corné’s hazel eyes glowed with intense dislike. “Shame. I’m sure Crowther would have delighted in the slaughter.” Because it would have been House Crowther who would have delivered the bloodletting if the order had come to make House Simonis an example.
My gaze narrowed.
Who is my sister marrying?
I had never been sure of Corné. I hadn’t been able to feel his essence whenever we’d met, so he’d kept his true nature hidden from me. But the way he revealed himself in the conversation about the Simonises, as if we were simply discussing the weather, not the fate of some small innocent child… I didn’t like him.
I didn’t like the idea at all that my sister was betrothed to him.
That she’d soon be married to him.
My temper flared, heating my chest with gusts of anger. Maybe I might gift him a taste of what someone who was other could do to someone as fragile and breakable as him.
Sage nudged into my side, rocking me off balance. Evvie steadied my stance, and my attention skipped to my wraith-wolf, which instantly extinguished the rage fizzing through my veins.
Without realizing the danger he’d been in, Corné continued talking, thinking we were hanging off every word, and not repulsed by the sickness pouring from his mouth. “The Horned Gods are seeking others . More these days than before.” While we served the Horned Gods and were allowed the use of magical items that assisted our roles, we were not permitted to be born with magic. That was their right, not ours.
“What do they do with them? Those they find?” My sister asked, deliberately not looking my way.
“Anything they feel like. It depends on what kind they are.” He shrugged a slender shoulder. “Some are sent to us for…experimentation.”
As he took another sip of his drink, Evvie and I shared a quick look of horror.
A shiver rippled down my spine.
I didn’t want to think about what happened in the Pellan’s laboratories buried deep in the Carpellean mountains. Nor wonder about what kinds of experiments went on there. Or what kind of pain the little Simonis boy might experience if House Pellan had subjected him to experimentation.
But those ghastly thoughts crept in, fraying my nerves and making the creature inside me stir.
Corné wound an arm around Evvie’s waist to pull her close so he could press a kiss to her temple. “No need for you ever to worry, Evelene.”
She gave him a radiant smile.
And he handed her his empty tumbler.
My sister, not one of the many servants in attendance.
It was the smallest of gestures, but it spoke volumes.
Her smile slipped a fraction. No one else would notice, but I did, and one other—Corné. I caught it, the sly gleam in his eyes.
It spiked my ire, and the creature inside me snarled.
Evvie accepted her role more gracefully than I would have done. I might have shoved the tumbler back in his hands and barked at him to fucking get it himself.
My sister made her way toward the wet bar, and I trailed after her. “Evvie,” I hissed in a low whisper. “Give it to someone else to do.”
She gave me a slight shake of the head, telling me silently to keep my mouth shut.
I tried again, “You’re a Wychthorn, not his lapdog.”
But Evvie ignored me and poured Corné a measure of scotch while I fidgeted beside her, moving bottles of alcohol about the wet bar.
And as my fingers wrapped around a bottle of whiskey, a sly idea took root.