Chapter 6 #2
Cillian fucking Ashmore, on the other hand, looked less than pleased. “Make no mistake,” he responded, his voice quiet and deadly. His fangs protruded slightly. “You’re here to assist me. That’s on my timeline, not yours. If I don’t call for you for a week, it’s because I’ve got no use for you.”
Those words slammed into me like a sledgehammer. To him, I was nothing but an annoyance—a means to an end. My temper flared again, and I didn’t bother restraining it. Not like I’d be able to eat anything anyway after the way this meal had gone.
I pushed up from my seat, which made a loud squeal. “Looks like I’m not hungry after all.”
With that, I turned on my heel and exited the room. My footsteps echoed through the massive room, and I could feel the pressure of their gazes on me.
Fuck him. Fuck him and his arrogance.
“You didn’t have to be such a dick.” Charles’s voice traveled from the table as I left the room.
Maybe I should take some small solace in the fact he’d called Cillian out, but my heart thumped hard, my whole body burning a little hotter.
I couldn’t return to my room like this. Instead of turning in the direction I’d come, I continued on, farther down the corridor.
I had no idea where any of his staff even slept, or Cillian himself, though considering the West Wing was off limits, he most likely brooded and scowled there.
The absolute fucking gall of the man. I balled my hands into fists.
The anger felt good at least, breaking through the haze of numbness that had covered me like cobwebs after the last week.
And at least if I was note-taking, doing something, even if it was for a reprehensible asshole, I’d prefer it to languishing away in this tower.
Voices sounded at the end of the corridor, drawing my attention.
I’d thought the people in the dining hall were the only ones who resided up here.
This space wasn’t accessible to the public, only a select few people.
Well, if I wouldn’t be eating dinner, I might as well poke around.
I was desperate for human interaction, but not desperate enough to deal with Cillian fucking Ashmore.
I slowed my pace the closer I got, two feminine voices growing clearer as I approached an open door with pale yellow light spilling out.
While I didn’t necessarily want to intrude on a private conversation, I also hadn’t been given enough information from my less-than-forthcoming host about who was allowed up here.
An inhuman growl came from inside the room, and I stilled right beside the door.
“Come on. You’ve got better control than that, don’t you?” The tone was sure and wicked in the same breath, a confidence there that I envied.
Another growl sounded.
“Calm down,” she stated again. “Close your eyes. Deep breath in, then huff out.”
A loud huff sounded, and my curiosity got the better of me. I peered around the doorframe. A stunning woman with dark flowing hair sat on the bed next to a massive silver wolf. Right there. In the middle of the room.
Panic registered in me, but I remained rooted in place.
“Good,” the woman said, stroking her fingers through the wolf’s fur. “You’ve got this. Fae, you’ve survived far more than a change of location. Breathe in again, then huff out.”
The wolf complied, her big flanks shuddering as she followed the order.
It wasn’t hard to piece together that the wolf was a were, considering there’d been a second voice moments ago as I’d listened in.
However, when I observed a little closer, I also caught sight of the raw red spots along her flank.
The belabored, ragged breathing. The spotty patches around the ankles, as if she’d been chained.
Her fur was matted and ragged, and she was thin—skeletally gaunt, like she’d suffered abuse. My stomach churned.
“Keep inhaling and exhaling, focus inward. I’ll go get you some dinner, since you’ve got to be starved,” the woman said, slowly rising.
Oh shit, she was heading out. I backed away from the door and pivoted on my heel, hoping I’d look like a passerby.
“You’re less inconspicuous than you think.”
I froze.
The woman from inside the room strode up beside me, a wan smile on her lips. “I haven’t seen you here before. Are you one of Cillian’s?”
“Does he often keep pets?” I asked, arching a brow.
She let out a bark of a laugh and tilted her head to the side. “Walk with me on the way to the kitchen.”
I didn’t have anywhere else to be, so I shoved my hands into my pockets and joined her.
She wore long, flowing purple skirts and a black corset top, her dark hair so shiny in the light that it gave off a midnight glow.
Unlike Amelia, who hadn’t given off what I viewed as witch vibes, this woman screamed it.
“I’m Sofia,” she offered. “And you?”
“Beau,” I responded. “Cillian’s new personal assistant.” Who had yet to assist him with damn well anything.
Sofia arched a brow as we strode down the hallway together. Thankfully, reaching the kitchen wouldn’t take me past the dining hall. After the way I’d stormed out of there, I wasn’t keen on running into any of them again at the moment.
“You’re a pretty thing, aren’t you?” she teased.
A flush heated my cheeks. She wasn’t the first who’d commented on my looks, or even the dozenth. The remarks had been a pattern my entire life, but then I’d usually run admirers off with my stubbornness or sharp tongue. Damian was the only one too self-absorbed to take the hints I’d been dropping.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m not interested. I’ve got a gorgeous girl waiting for me when I head home tonight.”
“You don’t live here?”
Her laugh echoed through the hall. “God no. The Spires are far too gloomy. My place is much livelier.”
“What’s your place?” I asked, desperate for any scraps of information from the stranger who walked these halls like they were familiar.
“Haven Diner,” she said. “On the opposite side of town.”
Where I’d been a little over a week ago. Where this had all begun. I sucked in a shaky breath. “Good food there.” Her eyes softened slightly, even though the intimidating air around her hadn’t lessened. “Is that where you met Cillian?”
She shook her head, a hint of a smile clinging to her lips. “Oh no. He and I go way back, beyond these businesses we’ve established. Let’s just say when I first arrived in Peregrine, the city wasn’t as considerate to our kind.”
“And the wolf back there?” I asked.
“You ask a whole lot of questions for a personal assistant.” Her eyes danced, hinting that she teased.
I shrugged. “I was a librarian.”
Her eyes crinkled at the edges with a broad grin. “That explains it.”
We reached the kitchen, and she offered a nod.
“Thanks for the company. Hopefully I’ll see you again, Beau.” With that, Sofia disappeared into the kitchen, the dismissal clear.
I ran my fingers through my curls, annoyed that I’d spent the time getting ready for a dinner I hadn’t even been able to enjoy.
Maybe I’ d come here later and raid the kitchen.
It was what I’d been doing a lot lately, since it remained regularly stocked.
A heavy sigh escaped me, and I headed back down the corridor in the direction of my room—my prison.
When I rounded the corner, I almost stopped midstride. Amelia waited for me by the door, a bowl in hand.
She took the first steps toward me. “I wasn’t sure where you’d gone off to, but I figured you might return here eventually.” We met midway down the hall, and she handed over the bowl of beef bourguignon I’d abandoned, still warm. “I owe you an apology.”
“For what?” I asked. “You weren’t the one who was rude.”
She shook her head, and her lips twitched as if she fought a smile. “You’re far mouthier than I expected.”
“Didn’t realize meek subservience was part of the job description.”
“It’s not,” she said. “I think…you’ll be a good fit. I owe you an apology for not starting your work earlier. We assumed you’d want time to transition.”
The bowl warmed my hands, and combined with her apology, some of the anger flaring through me ebbed. “All this free time isn’t helpful when I’m locked up here.”
Amelia’s brows dipped. “Right. This is…an unprecedented situation. Bear with us for a little bit, okay?”
“Not used to keeping prisoners?” I asked, unable to keep the sarcasm from my tone.
She shook her head. “I think it’ll be good to have you around here, Beau Taylor. Good for him too. Get some rest. You’ll start work in the morning.” She offered a flash of a grin—a real one—and then turned on her heel, heading back down the corridor.
I stood in front of my door, holding the soup she’d offered me.
Tonight hadn’t delivered any answers, just more questions, ones that bubbled under my skin, igniting my curiosity.
Well, I had plenty of time to try to dig up the truth.
Cillian Ashmore would regret ever holding me hostage.