Chapter 20
Nelle
The temperature dropped several degrees even though I was standing near twin hearth fires radiating warmth. A chill swept through me, settling over my skin like morning frost thick on a lawn, and my heart hammered a thunderous beat against my ribs.
Sage snapped and snarled as the Crowthers drew nearer. Their footsteps reverberated down the length of the hall, and shadows slunk across the stone floor as if they’d brought darkness with them.
They all appeared casual enough, but for that prowling stride, the cunning that lurked within the various shades of their eyes, which ranged from the light amethyst of Caidan’s to the darker indigo of Kenton’s.
For one brief moment, I found myself wanting to run behind the man with black eyes and allow him to shield me. But what message would that send?
Besides, I couldn’t rely on Graysen for anything.
I was very much alone.
I pushed my shoulders back and met their indifferent gazes as they split apart and half-circled.
Surrounded by their tall, imposing figures, I felt tiny and insignificant.
Behind my back, I ran my fingertips together as if rotating through adamere beads.
My roots are deep, my strength is stone, my breath the wind. I bow to none.
I was a Wychthorn, and I would never let them see me cower.
Snapping my fingers at my wraith-wolf, Sage took his sweet time but eventually drew back to my side, his fur hackled and fangs bared.
Kenton moved to my right. Wearing casual tan slacks and a crisp white shirt, he rolled up his sleeves, as if he were about to get down to business and not the kind that ended in an ink-stained signature and a friendly handshake.
The silence was deafening but for the soft crackling coming from the burning logs and the blood rushing in my ears.
The tension in the room was thick and cloying, making my pulse rap faster.
Graysen leaned against the wooden table, staring just above my head, bored, as if I were beneath his interest.
“Enjoying the tour?” Kenton asked me in that deep voice of his.
While I popped a hand on my hip, shrugging a shoulder, I paid close attention to Caidan and Jett’s movements as they drew a little closer.
Shifting my position sideways, I turned my gaze upon Draxxon’s massive head, which jutted out from the wall and loomed over enormous oak doors, and then cast an unimpressed glance about the Great Hall.
“Somewhat,” I replied with a bored sigh and waved my hand in a disdainful manner as if searching for the right words.
“I am looking at extending my real estate portfolio. However,” I scrunched my nose.
“It’s a bit…I don’t know…pretentious and cluttered. ”
From the corner of my eye, I caught the amusement tugging on Caidan’s mouth, and how he tamped it down, shying his head away as he rubbed at his hair concealed beneath a beanie.
A moment later, he smoothed his expression back to a blank slate as he adjusted his long, jean-clad legs and crossed his arms, the black t-shirt hanging loosely on his brawny build.
My gaze narrowed on him.
Both of us were aware of what he’d already done for Graysen. He’d purposely given away his brother’s secret, that he more than liked me, he…
And I couldn’t finish that thought because Graysen didn’t deserve me, not that way.
Kenton ignored me and turned toward his brother. “Why bother showing her around? She should be kept down in the dungeon until she’s needed.”
Darkness.
Sweat broke out on the back of my neck and coated my palms in tiny beads.
Part of me wanted to scream and shout. To strike out and hit them. To make them see that what they intended to by trapping me and selling me to those heinous witches was wrong. To unleash all my fear and fury and desperation upon them in words and violence.
However, I had to be smarter than that.
I stuffed down the rage and pushed the wrath further into the quagmire that was my tattered soul.
I couldn’t afford to let the Crowther brothers suspect what I was up to until it was too late and I was free.
I had to get them to agree to allow me to roam freely in their home so that I could come and go as I pleased.
And the only way I could do that was to appear weaker than them and not a threat.
As much as I wanted to incinerate them with my temper, I had to leash it.
“What does it matter?” I said, spinning around to fully face Kenton, my cold feet padding toward him across equally chilly stone.
“You’ve got me. There’s nothing I can do.
I can’t escape. So why not let me wander about in my extended cage for a little bit while I can?
Because you know, I don’t have much longer before…
” I drew a fingertip across my neck and made a croaking noise as I tipped my head sideways, poking out my tongue and slackening my features as if I was dead.
Something wounded flickered in Caidan’s gaze.
Quiet.
It was so quiet.
Good.
Their unease stirred in the air. Some inner part of me grasped they knew all of this was wrong, but then they shored themselves up with resolute glances at one another. To save myself, I needed to find a slender fracture within the brothers and hammer it into a crevasse.
A dazzling smile broke across my face as I shimmied my shoulders. “You want me to be in peak condition for my auction, right?” I raised a foot and flexed my toes. “All I’m doing is stretching my legs while I still have them.”
Curiously, the sound of Jett’s combat boots thudded through the room as he approached head-on.
I braced myself and held my ground. He tilted his head, his long hair pulled back into a messy man-bun, staring at me with cruel eyes and a razor-thin smile.
Of all the brothers, his hostility was visceral.
“I agree. It’ll be a lot more fun with her out mingling. ”
I wanted to gag at the small smile I gave him. I didn’t know why he agreed so readily with me, I’d expected more of a fight. But I’d take his assistance, even though I knew he was up to something.
From the side, I heard Graysen ask Kenton in his usual bored-as-fuck tone, “What do you want?”
“It’s time to get some new ink.”
New ink…
My gaze slid over Graysen’s arms, braced on either side of where he leaned his ass against the table.
One of his arms displayed a full sleeve of Ukkenskrit and wyrmfire, while the other was inked to his elbow.
The tiny Ukkenskrit script detailed the Crowthers’ personal history, their conquests in particular.
Obviously, it was my tale they were going to ink on his body…
their bodies since it was a joint effort.
Jett smoothed a hand down his silky navy shirt before lifting his arm to rotate it and show me his ink-free forearm. “It’ll look good,” he purred. “Probably one of the more impressive tales. Taking down a wyrm… How fucking cool is that?”
I knew he was taunting me to retaliate. I knew it, yet I couldn’t stop my gaze from narrowing and becoming stormy. My body tensed, ready for a fight. Sage too, with a low rumble coming from his throat as he reacted to my blustering anger.
Just in time, I caught myself…
Calm, calm, calm…
Jett wanted me to give him a reason to hate me further.
But I think it was more than that. He needed to feel justified in what they were going to do.
They all needed it, I realized, as I swept my gaze over them, watching them survey me, cold and heartless.
All they saw was a spoiled princess. Someone pampered.
The girl who was saved instead of their mother.
And here I was about to meet fire with fire. But what if I were to douse it?
I needed them to see me as a human. A person—just like them.
What’s more, I had to get to know them all to discover their weaknesses to take advantage.
Blowing out a steady breath, I arranged my expression into neutrality as if I didn’t care that they’d tell their tale of how they’d captured me and permanently score it on their skin. “Just be sure to spell my name right. W.Y.C.H.T.H.O.R.N,” I instructed airily, turning to drift closer to the fire.
Judging by the way Jett’s jaw flexed, he didn’t like that I hadn’t taken his bait. “Instead of playing babysitter, we need to get back to work,” he snapped at Graysen.
“Jett,” Caidan warned, but there was something else running in his tone. Concern.
Jett rolled his eyes and lifted a shoulder as if to say—whatever. He half-twisted away, wincing slightly and rubbing the back of his hand across his forehead. I swore the muted light glanced off beads of sweat that coated his furrowed brow, but I wasn’t sure.
“We’ve got a meeting with Yoran tomorrow,” Kenton added, dragging my attention from Jett to the eldest brother, as he slid a hand into the pocket of his slacks.
“He wants another syndicate to take over from the Widowmakers, and later on we need to shadow the shipment the Troelsens are bringing in for the Witches Ball.”
Shipment. Mortals. People the witches would feast upon before the Ball even began, when they started gathering in numbers for the event.
Graysen’s grip on the wooden table beneath him was white-knuckled, and I heard the groan of wood, the crack and splintering.
He suddenly moved, shifting his footing, and the soles of his boots scraped along the stone, hiding the sound of breaking wood.
But I caught the dust and wooden slivers sprinkling down beneath the table.
He bowed his head slightly, the shadows of the locks of ruffled hair shielding him from his brothers’ sight. He pushed off, rising, and assumed a wide-legged stance. If he’d been angry, it was wiped carefully away.
Give them what they want to see.