Chapter 4
OLLIE
Prada comfies? Really? That’s what he knocked about the house in? What was he trying to prove? I understood he was a pampered prince used to the finer things in life, but did he have to flaunt his expensive clothes so blatantly?
Er, since when does he flaunt anything?
Alright, so maybe he didn’t. I just saw a designer label and it triggered bad memories of my ex. He’d been vapid, cruel, and obsessed with labels.
Isaac wasn’t like him, but still. I just didn’t like his vibe.
Irrational, much?
Yeah, I was actually. Because deep down, I did like his vibe. From the moment I saw him, something sparked inside of me. And I hated that. I didn’t want any of the sparking crap with anyone ever again.
I turned down Willow Avenue, taking the first left to the rear entrance of the High Coven HQ, the building located on the west coast of Coldharbour, and stopped at the gatehouse for inspection.
“Evening,” I greeted the agent on duty.
“Hiya,” Sally answered, shining her torch in my face and the other windows. “Go on in.”
“Cheers. Have a good night.”
“You too,” she said.
The gates opened for me, spotlights pinging to life in response to my presence.
I followed the road through immaculate gardens hidden behind high concrete walls, heading for the basement carpark. More spotlights switched on, following my trajectory.
The security was top notch. Nothing got over those walls, and there’d never been a break in at any of the High Coven headquarter buildings across the globe. There were too many contingencies in place, too much threat to life for anyone to try it.
It didn’t help me sleep easier at night, though, especially with this fae woman lurking in the shadows.
I looked up at the Brutalist gray concrete building with a frosted blue roof, every inch of the cubic structure imposing.
For so long I’d wanted to get inside, to be an Agent of the High Coven. Have eyes and ears on the inside of the greatest power on Earth—excluding the sacred power of Aurora, of course.
I wanted to be part of the action, to make a difference.
Help people, fight the good fight. But it conflicted with being brought up in the mansion with parents loyal to the sacred blood.
Privately, of course. And for a big chunk of my childhood, witchcops showed up to the house to make sure Mum and Dad were being compliant citizens.
Which they always made sure to project, while secretly waiting for the return of the sacred triplets.
Despite my upbring, the High Coven saw no issue. For them, the Aurora bloodline died with Juliet, Janet, and Jonathon. They had no idea about Juliet’s three sons until recently. And by the grace of Hecate, they didn’t punish my mum for hiding it.
I’d break heads if anyone tried to.
Mum struggled with my decision to become a witchcop.
She argued with me for months before I enrolled into the academy, her loyalty to House Aurora unbreaking.
Even when I started my training, she pushed back, telling me it wasn’t too late for me to quit.
To her, the High Coven were too powerful, and had overstepped the mark after defeating Kane Kingwood.
Said they made our society too dystopian.
Maybe she was right, but what choice did they have? They had to intervene before the world fell apart. Anyway, as I always told her, it’d be great to have an extra body on the inside along with Jake.
I respected her steadfast loyalty to the Auroras, I really did. However, I had my own life to live.
Now I was starting to think I’d been too set in my ways on this decision. My first week had been rough, with Stefan’s attempt to sell out Riley and Isaac, which sent shockwaves through the HQ.
Now I was the Aurora Guy, along with Jake, who’d been privy to the return of the sacred witches. I was on the receiving end of whispers and quizzical stares, my whole experience as a witchcop off to a shaky start.
I blamed Stefan. His dickhead ways caused this, bringing my colleagues in this city in on the big secret.
Rolling into the carpark, I parked in my allocated slot, and took a breath.
It’d be alright. I had this. Hunker down, get through my time in the barracks, come out better on the other side. These things always blew over. Anyway, everyone was sworn to secrecy by penalty of imprisonment. So, yeah.
“You’ve got this,” I told my reflection in the rearview mirror.
Prada comfies…
They looked good on him. Everything did, turning him into some sort of fairytale prince in perfectly tailored clothes. He could wear a potato sack and make it work.
I scowled at the mirror. Who gave a crap what he looked like?
Why did I care about the stunning, golden hues of his fair skin, or how his blue eyes were set to a constant sparkle?
And why would I be interested in his amazing light-brown hair, wondering how silky it’d be if I ran my fingers through it?
Wriggling in my seat as my dick firmed, I gave myself another pointed look.
“Stop going there,” I warned.
I’d been thinking about The Sun a lot lately. Too much. And it wasn’t the same as thinking about the other brothers. This was different, as if Isaac had burrowed closer to my core.
That spark…
Nope. Nope. Nope. I had to kill this. Hot or not, we lived in different worlds. Plus, he just bugged me. Because of my ex, because I couldn’t stand people like him. Whatever signs he showed of being a decent person, I just… Bollocks. I had no idea what to think.
Call me confused.
Call me judgmental. I mean, who was I to say anything about his lifestyle after growing up in a mansion? But it wasn’t the same. He came from a privileged, pampered world beyond my comprehension.
Man, I sounded like the king of all dickheads.
Also call me furious for allowing a man to make me stumble. I’d steeled myself against attraction for years now, ever since my breakup. People were too complicated, too much of a time suck and a drain on my frail social battery.
No, thanks. Better to keep to myself as much as possible than be burned by some oxygen thief like Ben Cash, my ex.
Thank Hecate I wasn’t staying at the house anymore. Better to sleep here than be under that roof with Isaac sleeping close by.
He always smells awesome, too…
Like an expensive blend of nutmeg and vanilla. To my nose, anyway.
Right, enough of this crap. I got out of the car and strode across the concrete ground to the lifts. I pushed the call button impatiently, turning my mind to important matters. Like witches breaking Hecate Crystals, and strange new shades.
How mental was that? I still couldn’t wrap my head around it.
I stepped into the lift, hitting the button for the barracks.
When the doors opened on Basement Floor 1C, I came face-to-face with Jake.
“Howdy, matey,” he greeted me, offering his fist to bump.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, bumping my fist to his.
Behind him were some of my fellow recruits, giving me the eye. Particularly Dirk, who I suspected was always holding back. I wanted to confront him, ask him if he wanted to say something to my face from all the staring he did with those mean, watery brown eyes.
Dickhead.
“Helping you move,” Jake answered. “Khloe thinks it’s best for you to return to the mansion.”
“What? Why? I haven’t heard from her.”
“She said she tried calling.”
I fished out my phone, seeing ten missed calls from my boss, along with five from Mum.
“Bollocks,” I grumbled. I’d knocked my phone into silent mode by mistake. “Where is she now?”
“Meeting Room Five. Sent me to get you.” He gave me a sympathetic smile. “Sorry. I know your whole experience is being taken away from you. Barracks living can be fun with the right people.”
I glanced at Dirk and his minions gathered around a watercooler. His lips twitched into a smirk, a woman whispering something to him.
“But, well…” Jake rubbed the back of his neck, releasing a long sigh. “It’ll only get complicated if you stay here.”
“I want to speak to her,” I said, trying to avoid looking in Dirk’s direction.
Always best to avoid him. The barracks were huge, divided into individual rooms to give agents personal space. Mine was at this end of the network of blue-and-white corridors, Dirk’s on the opposite side. Our paths didn’t have to cross.
Only, the dickhead seemed to have other ideas, always appearing to give me his best stares.
Maybe it would be better to leave.
“Can I speak to her?” I asked, Dirk chuckling, whispering, apparently twelve years old again.
We’d been friends at the witchcop academy, playing football every Sunday, hitting the bars in the student quarter in the center of Coldharbour or cheap beers and shots. Until Ben came along.
Suddenly, Dirk hated me. Blocked me, cut me off as if our friendship meant nothing. I never understood it until Ben uploaded a sex tape they’d made in a hotel room.
Man, what a messy time. It hurt because all Ben did was lambaste my sexual performance and seeing him fuck Dirk cut deep.
Really made me feel worthless in many different ways.
He broke my heart, humiliating me in the process.
Well, the final nail of humiliation after a relationship of putdowns and feeling inadequate because I couldn’t keep him dripping in designer crap.
The bastard had messed me up good.
It took me two years to get into a better place with it. Ben moved on, a celebrity now after the sex tape, and a big reality TV star. I didn’t care, as long as my name stayed out of his mouth, which it did.
Dirk got dumped when fame came calling. He’d worn a mask in the tape, so he got left behind. Good. I only hoped the hurt lasted a long time.
Jake glanced over his shoulder as he answered my question. “You can. I’ll go with you.”
“Let me grab my stuff,” I said.
The moment I opened the door to my room, Dirk made a move.
“What’s up, Ollie?” he asked, scratching at the shitty brown beard on his pale, slightly reddish face.
“None of your business,” Jake stepped in.