Chapter 6 Kayla
Kayla
When I woke up, nothing smelled the same. Before I even opened my eyes, I knew that much. I waited as memories began to filter through my head from the previous day. Sebastian Dupont. He was my first thought.
Fucking Sebastian Dupont.
He was also my second thought because I was currently only one step up from being a prisoner in his house. The title of guest didn’t really do much to alleviate the fact I didn’t have any right to leave. He’d made that much perfectly clear, anyway.
And certainly not to leave town like I’d planned.
I lay in bed, stewing on what my life had turned into overnight until the tantalizing aroma of coffee trailed in on the warm breeze from outside my window.
With effort, I pushed myself from the admittedly comfortable bed to use the luxurious hotel-like bathroom before putting on my clothes and following the smell of an early morning wake-up call through the house.
Everything here was of the highest quality. It smelled of money. The hardwood floors gleamed, and the soft furnishings were truly soft and luxurious, made with fabrics that called out to be touched and admired.
I walked into a large and strangely modern kitchen.
It didn’t fit the rest of the house at all, with beautiful black granite countertops, polished white cupboards, chrome fittings, and a gray tiled floor.
I half expected to see a chef in position at the stove, but instead, Sebastian was sitting on a bar stool as he studied a newspaper.
He looked up as I walked farther into the room. “Good morning.” His smile was so wide and genuine that it was disarming, and I paused for a moment.
He looked truly happy to see me. And he probably damn well was—after all, he’d successfully prevented me from leaving New Orleans.
“Did you sleep well?” he continued.
I nodded, the admission grudging. It pained me to know I’d slept the best I had in months. The room had been quiet, the perfect temperature, and the bed had almost cocooned me all night long.
When I didn’t answer, though, Sebastian gestured at some beignets on the counter.
“I’ve borrowed Chef from Nic because you’re here.
Would you like to sample one or more of his beignets?
I have it on good authority that they’re delicious.
” His ten-thousand-watt smile faltered for a millisecond before it continued on full beam.
But this time I shook my head. Trying any other beignet just felt wrong after I’d already eaten perfection. Nothing else would ever come close. “Lettie’s beignets are the only ones I eat.”
Sebastian’s eyes crinkled slightly as his brow drew down just a fraction and he chuckled. “A bold statement indeed when you haven’t tried these.” Then he tilted his head. “Is Lettie a friend of yours?”
Telling Sebastian about her after she’d escaped probably wouldn’t put her in harm’s way, right? It could be a good way to give him a little information to show some compliance with this ridiculous situation, and maybe convince him to allow me to leave quicker.
I nodded. “Yeah, she’s my friend. A witch who used to work for Francois. I think he released her from her contract because no one has seen her for weeks. I know I’d get my ass out of this hell hole of a city,” I finished pointedly.
For a moment, his eyes went a little wider, and if vampires ever felt panic, I’d have said Sebastian Dupont was right on the verge of that.
But then he nodded and his expression smoothed out, becoming almost business-like as he lost his smile.
He closed his newspaper and folded it with a snap.
Who the hell still read newspapers, anyway?
Sebastian cleared his throat. “I wondered if you could tell me about the work you used to do for Francois and émile? The sorts of spells did you did for them?”
I watched his face as he spoke, but he seemed to be asking a genuine question, which meant he didn’t know anything specific. Good. I could keep this simple. I shrugged, casually lifting one shoulder higher than the other. “Just a hex or two and a couple of summonings, really.”
“And you can offer the same service for the new king?” His tone remained all business.
I shrugged again. “I could. But I’d need my grimoire and some of my supplies.
Those are back at my apartment.” I hadn’t thought to pack them the previous night.
Or rather, I had, but I hadn’t wanted to believe I’d need them.
I’d still clung to the hope that I’d be able to leave, grab my stuff, and escape the city.
“If you let me know what and where, I can send Kyle.” He narrowed his eyes a little like he expected me to refuse or like he thought I was just jerking him around.
But I didn’t refuse, and as much I wanted to jerk him around, this stupid situation would all be over much faster if I just went along with it. “The grimoire is under my bed, and my supplies are in the back of the closet in the bedroom.”
“I’ll tell Kyle now.” He turned away, but my next words stopped him.
“Wait, just Kyle? I’m not going with him to my own fucking apartment?
This is just bullshit, you know.” Sudden anger blazed through me.
I didn’t want that weird-ass emotionless guy pawing through my things without supervision.
“Just let me go home. I won’t fucking leave New Orleans.
I’ll stay. You don’t need to keep sending your henchman to my place to get yet more stuff.
And even if I did find some way to leave, it’s not like I’m so important.
You can easily find another witch like me.
I wasn’t the only one contracted to the family. ”
Sebastian sighed and tapped the tip of his forefinger softly against his folded newspaper on the counter.
“It’s a time of turmoil in New Orleans, no matter how I wish otherwise.
As a witch who worked under the House of Ricard and now someone who can be seen as aligning yourself with Nicolas Dupont—regardless of your feelings about it—you could be a target.
I want to ensure you aren’t in any danger.
Kyle goes, you stay,” he said as he left the room.
I turned my attention to the full pot of coffee and mug sitting beside it, my head still buzzing with furious energy. The coffee wouldn’t help calm my nerves, but it might taste good.
Sebastian hadn’t been telling me the real reason I couldn’t leave, I was pretty sure of that, but I couldn’t exactly call after a vampire, the king’s regent especially, and accuse him of lying.
Sighing, I poured my cup of coffee and turned to face the kitchen again.
“Sweet Jesus.” Coffee droplets splashed from the mug as I jumped. “I didn’t hear you come back in.”
Sebastian smiled disarmingly, always that same smile, like there hadn’t even been a break in our earlier conversation, and shrugged from where he’d been sitting earlier. “Kyle’s gone, but he won’t be long. In any case, I needed to ask you something else.”
He dropped his voice a little as if this was going to be a private conversation. I wasn’t sure I wanted one of those with him. Something about him drew me in, even though I had no desire to get entangled with a vampire royal.
“It’s business,” he said like he could read my mind.
“Okay.” I perched on the other bar stool and sipped my drink, trying not to react as the smoothest coffee I’d ever had slid down my throat.
“Kayla.” He somehow managed to turn my name into a caress, and I steeled against a shiver.
His blue gaze bored into mine and held me captive, although not due to compulsion.
I simply didn’t want to escape. “There might come a time soon when Nic is in need of a black magic witch to help him establish his reign or secure territory. Is that something you’re ready for? ”
I started to shake my head. Black magic was really bad…
or it could be really bad. But shit. A little part of me loved the dark.
Maybe not all-out black, but I’d studied the art as long as I could remember, even if I didn’t allow myself to practice it often.
Even if was what had closed the covens to me.
Apparently, self-study of anything remotely dark was completely frowned upon in the established covens, and practicing was a huge fuck, no. But I couldn’t help it. I had an affinity for it. The power had liked me.
I’d only objected to performing the spells for the Ricard king and prince because I didn’t agree with their objectives.
The spells and incantations themselves were exciting and the rush of power they brought me was heady and addictive.
But that was also why I couldn’t do too much of it—the power was so great it could consume me.
So, my talent wasn’t accepted in the local covens.
They were all An’ it harm none, do what ye will – which definitely didn’t include some of the things émile and Francois had asked me to do.
Things I’d done.
At first, several fellow witches had tried to save me and quoted the law of threefold return at me. From time to time I did wonder what might return to bite me in the ass, but I mostly tried to act in line with my conscience, weighing up the bad against the worse.
So, I couldn’t tell Sebastian no right away.
I stopped my head shaking. There was no point lying to him right now.
Not when the power of the dark arts was so seductive.
However, I didn’t exactly have to say yes, either.
I could just leave his question completely unanswered.
In fact, that seemed the safest thing to do.
I crossed my arms and lifted my chin. “So, you want me to do your black spells and endanger myself in the process?”
Sebastian shifted a little. Good. He deserved to be uncomfortable.