Chapter 17
RAINE
I’m doing the whole jet lag thing so wrong.
Like worse than wrong. It’s ten. I should be in bed.
I want to get a good start tomorrow. The sooner I can order things, the faster I’ll be able to make some real progress.
I have this ability to visualize projects, exactly how I want it to look when I’m done.
And then I get impatient when it takes time making it that way.
I tried to sleep. All right, I tried for ten minutes, but when you know it’s not going to work, you know it’s not going to work.
I pulled on some exercise clothes and headed out.
Grounding, my sister is always talking about, and not the airport kind when the planes don’t move because of the weather.
Although, she does talk about that too. No, you need to be out in nature, your feet in the grass, otherwise .
. . otherwise I don’t know, but I try to do it occasionally.
Okay, never. But I’m trying not to remember the dreams I had during that five-hour nap.
I don’t need to be any more sexually frustrated than I already am.
All in all, though, it was really good sleep.
But just now? Tossing and turning when there’s all these amazing things to explore?
No. I’ve hardly explored anything in the castle.
But exploring the castle at night is way scarier than exploring the gardens.
At first, I didn’t think there were any.
Not with the way the front of the castle is a forest and the side is the entrance and a heck of a lot of gravel.
When I went exploring, trying to find a bathroom, I got a glimpse out the back window.
There’s a massive garden: flowers, trees, and what I think is a hedge maze.
I love corn mazes back home. And I was lying in bed wondering about it .
. . and my windows face the driveway. How could I not?
I’ve turned my phone back off. I have no idea what to say to Wren. I should be furious at Roark for what he did. But I think he’s gotten rid of Jeff for me for good. I sent one text to Wren, letting her know with our code word that I’m fine and that I’d explain later.
Then I decided to reply to Jeff. He accused me of paying someone to take the picture.
Wren had sent me a picture of Roark with Kieren at the benefit in Zurich sometime last year.
The art on his arms was clearly visible under his suit jacket sleeve.
I sent the picture and article to Jeff with the text.
People who attend ten-thousand-dollar plate banquets aren’t taking money from their new girlfriend.
Lose my number, I said. And then I blocked him.
I did it. Sure, I lied that he’s more than the head of security at the castle.
But somehow, I don’t think Roark will mind.
He’s the one who sent the first picture, after all.
I think about the photo from Wren. It was hard to look at because there’s a blonde with hair straight to her waist with them. Her makeup’s applied perfectly, something I only do when Wren gets it on me correctly. Was she with Roark or Evander? I couldn’t tell. A bead of jealousy pinches at me.
From the side door, I take a gravel path that leads around the back of the castle.
The gravel walkway turns into a five-foot path of intricate herringbone brick.
The bricks are weathered and worn, like they’ve been here for generations.
Alongside the path is a thick lawn that would put the groundskeeper at my father’s country club to shame.
My stomach twists. It’s been a good seven months since I talked to my dad. He still doesn’t understand why I changed my major.
I run my hands along an archway. It’s black steel and intricate. A large flowering bush hangs over the top of it. It’s the entrance into the formal gardens. Beds are laid out in precise patterns, rosemary and short hedges surrounding them with bright, colorful flowers poking through.
I’m drawn deeper into the space. It’s like it’s intentionally leading me toward the tall hedge maze I saw from above. A moth flitters next to me, its white wings translucent, then it flutters toward the maze, but even with the bright moonlight, I’m not going in there now.
My sense of direction has never failed me, but spending the night lost in a shrub maze when there’s no one around doesn’t seem like a good way to spend the second day on the job.
I’m about to turn around when a shadow crosses the lawn. It’s massive. My heart clenches. I’m not normally one to get scared, but the shadow is huge. I crane my neck up, but the shadow is already over me.
The underside of a bright blue dragon races toward me.
It’s maybe a hundred feet in the air, its talons extended toward my shoulders.
And then a green dragon appears, racing toward it.
The green slams into the blue, just ten feet above my head, sending the blue dragon tumbling end over end into the lawn with a thundering thud.
I know where I shouldn’t be—and it’s right here, right now.
I spin and run for cover, but I’m too far away from the castle.
Against my better judgment, I dash for the maze’s tall shrubs.
I run and I run, passages opening on my left and right.
I zig and zag through the maze until I find an area where the bushes have grown together over the top of the path.
I hunker down between two shrubs, making myself as small as possible.
I’m thankful that I’m wearing my dark hoodie and leggings. I’m sure they must have keen eyesight, like a hawk or an eagle, but maybe—just maybe—I’m covered enough.
My heart races faster than it ever has. My knees are tucked under my chin.
My fingers are tight around my calves, holding them there, and my insides tremble.
Should I move? Forget that. Should I escape?
Get the heck out of here? Sure, the rideshare driver didn’t want to drop me off at the top of the driveway, but maybe I can get someone else to come all the way up .
. . I pat my weird leggings pocket that’s supposed to keep your phone tight to your leg. It’s not there.
Crap. It’s back in the grass somewhere. Do I run back to the castle?
That’s the thing: I saw two dragons, and what are the chances that the blue dragon wasn’t one of the three I had dinner with?
Zero, Raine. Zero. Dragons are protective of their territory.
That’s what the article said in ShifterToday.
I look up at the underside of the bush and project, I wasn’t trying to mess with your territory.
No answer. Nothing but a twig to the eye.
The water from the ground is soaking into my leggings, and my calves are twitching.
It’s too dark to read the time on my watch.
It’s been over an hour, I think . . . maybe more.
Or less. I don’t know; it’s hard to keep track of time when you’re curled into a ball with a wet ass and a twig trying to pry out your eyeball.
There are footsteps. I think. I’m straining to hear.
Another few thuds. Definitely steps. I’ve been avoiding answering my own question: do I trust the men who are most likely the same ones who just tried to lift me into the sky like a giant pterodactyl out of a Godzilla movie? But what choice to I have?
More steps. “Raine,” someone shouts.
“Raine, it’s okay. You’re safe,” another one of them says. But I’m pretty sure that’s the same thing the killer says in all the horror movies. Right?
Then I see feet on the next path over. I could roll and run, but what would be the point?
He turns, his bare feet pivoting on the crushed stone path. “Raine,” Evander says softly.
I unfold myself from the bush, but I don’t come out on the same side of the maze wall as him. He’s a shadow on the other side.
“I’m here,” I say.
“Stay there,” he says, and I expect him to turn and come around the end of the wall wherever it starts.
He doesn’t. He pushes straight through the thick bush.
Its branches bend and crack against the forceful thrust through.
He wraps me in his arms. “You’re okay.” I’m not sure who he’s trying to convince—himself or me.
He’s warm, and it’s only then I realize how much I’m shivering. He pulls away, and I miss his heat. But he takes my chin in his hand and tilts my face to his. I push up onto my tiptoes. His lips on mine are the only thing I want. Rational thought is gone. I need this. I need him. Now.
His kiss is demanding. The hand on the middle of my back keeps me locked in place, and my shivers turn to quivers.
The only thing I want now is for the kiss to never stop.
Because any time will be too soon. My whole body is on fire.
There’s an electrical charge racing from his mouth to my core. And I’m clenching my legs shut.
My fingers go to his hair. It’s soft, the softest hair I’ve ever felt.