Chapter Ten
Wilder
By the time I got to Benji’s Christmas Bash it was in full swing.
The mansion had been transformed into a magical winter grotto and it was clear that they’d spared no expense in throwing this party.
There were catering staff, a live band playing all the big Christmas songs and a giant ice sculpture in the entrance hall.
I toyed with not coming at all, but then I’d thought about how disappointed Benji would be that I hadn’t shown up and I’d caved. My head was a mess. Flashes of memories kept resurfacing and my stomach rolled with them every time.
The damn ring was also burning a hole in my pocket. I could feel the faint imprint in my trouser pocket, but I didn’t want to touch it in case it set me off again.
Where was Byron?
I stood on the fringe of the party, my back against the wall and I was biting at the skin around my thumb.
“Hey,” Vlad said as he came to stand next to me, a glass of Acheron’s homemade punch in his hand.
I was so zoned out, I didn’t even notice him and I flinched. “H-hey.”
His brown eyes were soft as he stared down at me. “Are you alright?”
“Honestly? No.” I was very far from being alright. I was about to put my trust and faith in a man that both terrified and excited me in ways I couldn’t even comprehend. I spent most of the time bordering the desire to either throttle him or kiss him and I wasn’t sure which was going to win.
I’d always believed that doing the right thing was the right thing to do. That I should listen to Dara because she was older, and therefore wiser, but now I wasn’t so sure. Since when did Byron Blake become the best option for me? When did a psychopathic hitman become my best choice?
Byron was dangerous, unpredictable, and void of any real human feelings. He liked violence, enjoyed torturing people, and craved inflicting pain. He didn’t suffer remorse and did what he wanted without real thought to anyone else.
He’d broken into my house—twice—watched me sleep, no doubt gone through all my things and learned all that he could about me. I should feel violated.
But I didn’t.
I felt relieved. He’d not run in the other direction after discovering I was a Shadow Witch and he was somehow tied to me. He’d stood by my side, checked in on me when I was having a panic attack and left me food to make sure that I ate something.
What was happening to me? Had I fallen so far into insanity that I was completely willing to overlook the fact that Byron was a psychopath and a murderer?
I mean, what’s a murder or ten between friends, right?
Nobody’s perfect.
I was fucking screwed.
I wish I’d never started to get these visions or messages from the other side or whatever the fuck they were.
I missed the guy I used to be. He’d been sure of himself.
Happy, if a little lonely, but he knew where his life was taking him.
Now, I was adrift in the dark and tied to a man who looked like he wanted to eat me alive.
And I didn’t think I’d mind that.
That was the terrifying truth. I wanted Byron.
I could wrap it up in lies and half-truths to try to convince myself I’d gone mad, but the reality was that Byron made me feel safe in a way no one else ever had. He’d burn the world for me and not feel a moment’s regret.
I really was fucking screwed, wasn’t I?
“Want to talk about it?” Vlad offered as he snatched a glass of white wine off a passing waiter and handed it to me.
I wasn’t sure drinking alcohol was the best thing to do right now, but I took a sip anyway hoping that it might settle the unease currently chewing through my stomach. “Not really.”
“Okay, well how about something else then? Did you hear about the wendigo?”
“What? No,” I replied, my curiosity piqued. I hadn’t heard of a wendigo being in this country for years. “Where is he?”
Vlad flicked his eyes to the basement. “In the medical bay.”
“He’s here? Aren’t you afraid he’s going to eat everyone?”
There was a disturbance in the air next to me and Acheron appeared looking like a bauble in his gold sequined jacket and trousers.
“Are you talking about our new guest?” he asked, a wicked gleam in his silver eyes. “Isn’t it exciting? An actual real-life wendigo!”
“Hush,” Vlad admonished. “We don’t want everyone to know he’s here.”
“Don’t be so droll, Vlad,” Acheron laughed. “No one would believe us, anyway. We’re talking about a fucking wendigo! I for one, can’t wait to meet him.”
“I hope he eats you,” I said as I downed the rest of the wine.
“Rude,” Acheron quipped, but he was holding back a smile.
I don’t even know why we bickered so much but we both seemed to enjoy pissing each other off.
There was something fun about seeing how much I could wind up the old charmer, especially if I could perform better magic than him, despite only being twenty-four and he was…
well, I didn’t think anyone actually knew how old he was. Not even him.
“Byron found him on a job this afternoon,” Vlad said as he adjusted his tie slightly.
Usually, the vampire wore practical clothing—combat trousers, tight fitting t-shirt and boots—tonight he wore a dark grey pinstripe suit and the man brushed up well.
His brown hair was freshly cut, but he’d left a little stubble along his square jaw.
“The vampire hunting one?” I asked.
Vlad nodded, his mouth tight. “Yeh. Bit of a weird job, that one. Nothing went to plan—”
“Is Byron alright?” I interrupted.
Vlad’s eyebrows jumped to his hairline. “A few scratches, but he’ll live. Are you sure you’re alright? It’s not like you to ask after Byron.”
“Does anyone?” Acheron scoffed, and I had to resist the urge to zap him with some magic.
“It’s…complicated,” I managed to spit out. That was the easiest way to describe whatever this was going on between us. I was more hung up on the fact that Acheron’s offhanded comment annoyed me.
“Complicated sounds interesting,” Acheron said as he sidled closer to me. “Tell me more.”
“No fucking way. I’m not telling you shit, Acheron.” I moved closer to Vlad and threw him a pleading look.
“Haven’t you got bartenders to seduce?” Vlad said with a saucy smile.
“But I want to find out more about Byron and Wilder,” he replied with a pout.
“If you piss off now, I’ll put you on a watch with Vee,” Vlad offered.
Acheron’s brows dipped over his mercurial eyes. “Who the fuck is Vee?”
Vlad leaned closer to the charmer and dropped his voice to a whisper. “The wendigo.”
“Ooh, you sneaky sneakerson.” Acheron looked torn as his gaze flickered between Vlad and me. He tapped his finger on his chin, weighing his options. I know what I’d choose if were in his shoes.
“Fine,” he said eventually. “I’ll go, but you’d better deliver on your promise.”
And with a stern stare and a severe finger wag, Acheron disappeared again.
“Thanks,” I muttered when it was just me and Vlad.
“His heart is in the right place, he just seems to lack any real ability to read social cues,” Vlad replied with a fond chuckle.
He wasn’t the only one.
And there went my brain thinking about Byron again. That was what? Three minutes without comparing something else to something that he does.
I groaned and scrubbed my hands down my face.
“I don’t want to make things worse, but you’ve got a psychopath heading straight for you,” Vlad said with a cough before starting to walk away. “I’ll leave you two to it.”
“No, wait!” I called after him, but it was useless. The man had abandoned me to my fate.
Traitor.
“Hello, baby,” Byron drawled as he stepped into my personal space.
The muscle under my left eye twitched. “Don’t call me that.”
He grinned his Joker smile and leant closer still.
His hair fell forward into his eyes and shadows played about the lines of his face.
It made it look like he’d stepped out of the shadows himself.
He was also in a customary all black outfit except this time he was wearing a tightly fitting blazer, paired with an equally well-fitted black shirt and trousers.
The man was, in a word, delicious. But i wasn't going to tell him that.
Byron dipped even closer and took a deep breath, exhaling on a groan.
“Did you just smell me?”
He pulled back slightly, his ridiculously blue eyes meeting mine. “Yes.”
“For fuck’s sake, Byron. You can’t do that. It isn’t normal.”
His expression fell. “I broke into your house and forced myself into your bed. I thought we were past ‘normal’.”
I didn’t know why, but I found his honesty adorable and a smile pulled at my mouth. “You’re ridiculous.”
He reached a finger out and brushed it against the corner of my lips. “You should smile more.”
I was so taken aback by his comment that I reacted without even thinking about it. I lashed out, grabbing his finger and bending it backwards at a painful angle. “Touch me without my permission again, and I’ll cut it off.”
Byron was standing so close I could count every eyelash, and I watched as his pupils dilated and the bright blue darkened with desire. His gaze dropped to my mouth, and he darted forward to nip my bottom lip between his teeth.
There was a sharp sting as he broke the skin and his tongue swiped over the blood that pooled there. I pushed him away, and he laughed like a hyena.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, baby.”
I brushed the blood off my lip and tried to ignore the people looking at us. Pretty sure Damyr would have no problem cutting me up into tiny pieces if Byron and I ruined his husband’s party.
“You’re mad,” I said as I tried to get my dick under control. It seemed to be enjoying the mania Byron had brought to the party with him like a well-matched accessory.
“I prefer the term creative, but I’m definitely all yours.”
“What? No, Byron. Can you be normal for one minute?”
“Sure,” he replied quickly before he turned on his superficial charm. It was like a switch had flipped. His entire face brightened, he looked open and approachable, and I hated it. He looked…wrong.