Chapter Eighteen
Wilder
There were too many people in here. Damyr had convened a meeting at the Julien, the grand fancy hotel owned by the three ruling families that stood as their neutral ground—to discuss all the shit that was happening with my father.
It looked like only the Morozov and the Rowans were here, and even then, there were only a select few.
I should be grateful that there weren’t as many people as I expected, but all I could feel was guilt.
Everybody looked pissed at having their Christmas holidays interrupted and it was all my fault.
If I hadn’t wanted to learn the secrets of my past so badly, this wouldn’t be happening.
Everyone would be enjoying festive themed activities, drinking alcohol, eating too much and be snuggled up and happy.
Instead, they were here. In a gaudy meeting room, in the middle of the city trying to help me fix my problems.
I sank deeper into my hoodie, pulling the hood up and making myself as small as I could.
Everyone was talking, and the noise was blurring into one large sound that drowned my ears.
All the voices mangled into one and my heart thudded in my chest, beating far too quickly.
My fingers tingled and my vision started to blur.
Suddenly, Byron’s face appeared in front of me, a picture of calmness and serenity.
“Breathe with me, baby,” he said in a soft low tone. “Come on. In and out. Nice and slow.”
I tried to mirror his breaths, but they kept catching in my throat.
“That’s it. Keep going.” His voice was encouraging and gentle, a soft command that cut through all the noise.
Eventually my breathing evened out as I stared into Byron’s eyes. I almost laughed at how far we’d come. Was it really only last week when I thought I hated him? And now… well, now I was pretty sure I was falling hard for the guy.
“Good boy,” he rumbled, the sound coming from deep in his chest.
My breath was still shaky as it passed my lips, but I didn’t feel like I was going to pass out. “Thank you.”
He snaked his hand into my hood, his rough fingers scraping against my jaw. “You’re welcome. Now, do you want to get out of here?”
It was tempting, but I needed to be here. I needed to see this through. “No, I’m good.”
Byron cocked one of his dark brows. “If you say so.”
That pulled a small laugh out of me. “Honestly, I’m okay. Just need the room to quiet down.”
“I can do that,” he said with a wicked grin before pulling my hood down and sinking his fingers deeper into the hollows of my cheeks.
He lowered his lips until there was barely any space between his mouth and mine.
There was a challenge in his eyes but before I could pull back, he thrust his tongue deep inside my mouth.
Holy mother of…
His tongue traced the roof of my mouth and the back of my teeth, before leaving with a wet swipe along my top lip.
This wasn’t a kiss. It was a gesture of pure possession. He was showing everyone in the room that I was his and he could do whatever he wanted.
The gesture wasn’t just hot. It set my veins ablaze, and I suddenly wanted to fall to my knees and offer my submission. Which wasn’t like me at all. Or hadn’t been until Byron decided to focus his attention on me.
How did he do that to me? Make me fight against everything I thought I was.
“Mmm, you taste like chocolate and sin. I could spend all night licking your mouth out.” Byron licked his lip, and I moaned.
That. I wanted that.
It was only then that I realised the noise had completely faded into silence. “Everyone’s looking at us, aren’t they?”
“Baby, I’ve just kissed you in front of all these people, in a way that was absolutely filthy. You've just been publicly owned. Of course, they're looking.”
Fucking hell. The shiver that ran through me was almost violent. I narrowed my eyes at him. "I hate you."
Byron grinned wide and stroked his thumb across my bottom lip. "Liar."
He was right, of course he was right, but I wasn't quite ready to tell him that I was almost certainly in love with him. It was too fast, too crazy, but maybe that's what made it perfect for us.
When Byron finally pulled back, I clocked the whole room looking at me, just as I had expected.
"Wilder is mine. He belongs to me and there's nothing anyone can do about it," Byron stated to the whole room as calmly as if he were talking about the weather.
How could he do that? State something of that magnitude with such a calmness?
My insides were squirming under all the scrutiny and the thought of putting anything into words scared me shitless.
“Oh, so we’re allowed to bring strangers to the internal meetings now?” Aleksey asked, his lips pulled back in a sneer.
“He’s not a stranger,” Byron snapped. “He’s been part of this team for the last few months.”
“You’ve been fucking him for less than a week and you’re grandstanding and calling him ‘yours’. You’re crazier than I thought,” Aleksey said drolly.
“Enough,” Damyr said impatiently. “We’re getting on with this and if you have a problem, Aleksey, you’re more than welcome to leave.”
There were a few grumbles and sideways glances at me, but that might have been because Byron sat at the table and pulled me into his lap. It bothered me that people were looking at me, but that was smothered by the sheer relief I felt at being held in Byron's arms.
He kissed my temple and pressed his nose against the top of my head, breathing deeply. "Are you alright?"
I gave him a stilted nod and tucked my head under his chin, instantly feeling safer. It still amazed me that I did. Here I was, curled up with a psychopath and I felt like no monster could ever touch me. Perhaps that was because the biggest monster I knew had claimed me as his.
Damyr leant forward and pressed a button on the intercom. Roxie's chirpy voice filtered through like a rainbow in a sky of clouds. "Good day my lovely sugarplums, are we ready to delve into the pile of shit I've uncovered?"
I hadn't known Roxie for very long, but she was definitely larger than life. Impressive considering I'd never actually met her. I assumed Damyr had, but no one else seemed to. She was just a name and a voice down a phone line.
A screen flickered to life on the far side of the room, and it filled with images of my father and his associates.
"So," Roxie began. "Meet Lawler Rowan. Green witch and black-market dealer. He's part of some shady underground network called the Hollow Thread that procures any manor of item. You want something, they can get it for you. Some of the associates we’ve been able to identify so far are Timothy Humphries, who has been on my radar for a while. A vampire who likes to steal women for his blood harem. Then there’s Matteus de Luca, a judge at the High Court.”
A judge? I forced out a breath like I’d been punched in the gut.
“Makes sense why nobody involved has been prosecuted if they have a judge participating,” Vlad offered.
“How are we supposed to unravel all of this if these are the kind of people involved?” Aleksey said with a huff. “This isn’t going to end well.”
Byron tensed beneath me and I wasn’t sure if this was just Aleksey being his usual grumpy self, or if he was deliberately trying to provoke Byron.
More pictures flashed on the screen, faces and names. Most people I didn't recognise but there was one that I did.
Orson Aldworth. The vampire from Astrid's store.
I sat up, my mind trying to pull the memory of him from the auction, but it was fuzzy. I remembered the pocket watch though.
"What is it?" Damyr asked.
"That man was at the auction and then at my potion dealer's store this morning," I replied. "He gave me his card."
The screen shifted again, filling with a handful of pictures of Orson going back hundreds of years.
"Orson Aldworth, vampire. Not much of an online presence at all. Seems like a bit of a recluse, currently resides in..." Roxie paused and then hummed thoughtfully. "... Brackley Hollow. Interesting."
That was interesting. Brackley Hollow was like a miniature version of Misthaven up in the North. A safe space for people like us. If Orson was there, either he was really good at hiding his true nature or he wasn't as bad as he appeared to be.
A picture of the Brackley University teaching staff popped up and there he was. Orson Aldworth, tenured history professor.
"He doesn't seem like the type of man to wander into a black-market auction," Byron mused, his fingers sliding into the top of my waistband and idly stroking over my hip bone.
"Roxie, see what else you can find on him," Damyr said, his finger tapping lightly on the table. "Tell us more about Lawler."
The images of Orson disappeared, and my father filled the screen again.
My stomach twisted uncomfortably. I chanced a look at Dara across the table, and her face was pulled into a sharp grimace.
She'd known everything and hidden it from me.
I was still unsure about how I felt about that.
I wanted to hate her, but she'd done what she had to protect me.
I couldn't hate her for that, but the betrayal of knowing she'd lied to me stung like a bitch.
"Lawler Rowan is a nasty piece of work. All his wealth seems to come from his dealings with the Hollow Thread.
He's got a number of properties listed under various different shell companies.
" Roxie pulled up a number of the properties on the screen.
A mix of warehouses and buildings that flashed on a horrific carousel.
"Do you recognise any of these," Damyr asked me.
I swallowed, the churning in my stomach intensifying with every new image. "Some, but not all."
Damyr turned to Dara, his eyes a little cold. "Dara, what about you?"