Chapter 7 The Dragon
The Dragon
Alastor Crestwood.
I couldn’t say what it was about this brother that felt so different from the other two, but it made my mouth go dry.
There was something intimidating about the way he moved, and I glanced toward the door, wondering if it was possible to sneak out without drawing his attention.
It wasn’t the best plan, but maybe I could hang out on the stairs until Radven returned and explained the situation to his terrifying brother.
Alastor crossed the room, pausing only to slide his arms out of his velvet jacket and throw it over one of the chairs at the table.
He undid the buttons of his shirt next, letting it fall open as he went over to a bookshelf in the far corner.
There he reached up and pulled a nondescript book from the top shelf.
Except it wasn’t a book at all. When he flipped it open, I could see that the pages had been carved out to form a compartment inside. Whatever it held was hidden from my view, but Alastor stared down at it for a long moment, then reached inside to stroke it gently, even tenderly.
As curious as I was, this was a clear sign that I needed to get out of here before he noticed me.
The last thing I wanted was for this terrifying guy to think I was intentionally intruding on some private moment.
And with his back to me, I wasn’t going to get a better chance to make my escape to the stairwell.
I tried to be sneaky. But I only made it about two steps before Alastor whipped around, his dark eyes snapping right to me.
He was across the room in three large strides, and I found myself backed right up against the pillar with the weird metal starfish. I could feel its shiver at my back.
“Who are you?” he demanded. “What are you doing here?”
Both Octavian and Radven had known exactly who I was—had been expecting me, even—but there was only suspicion in Alastor’s gaze. His eyes were so dark I couldn’t even distinguish the pupils from the irises in this dim light.
“Well?” His voice was hard, like stone.
I tried to keep my eyes from dropping down to his bare chest, which was deliciously close to me at the moment.
I could only imagine the muscles that Octavian and Radven had hiding beneath their suits, but Alastor’s were on full display, and honestly a little distracting.
I could literally feel the heat radiating off him.
“Your brother brought me here,” I blurted, seeing no reason to hide the truth.
“My brother?”
“R—George.” I clarified, remembering my promise not to use his real name. “He locked me in. I wasn’t snooping or anything, I promise. Believe me, I’d rather be back at the party. I haven’t even gotten a chance to try the buffet yet. But he insisted.”
“I should have known.” He shook his head, and a handful of loose, dark curls peeked out around the edges of his mask.
“I’m happy to leave right now if the door is unlocked,” I said.
“I really just want to get back to the party. That buffet is calling my name. I considered eating before I came tonight, but I was afraid I’d spill something on this dress before I was even out the door.
And as you can imagine, that Nectar you guys are serving goes straight to your head when you’re on an empty stomach. ”
Despite his obvious displeasure at my presence, he made no move to escort me to the door. In fact, he was now staring at me a little too closely, and I found myself thinking about that creepy anatomy book with the dissection diagrams.
“Please don’t murder me,” I said, my voice embarrassingly squeaky.
He blinked his dark eyes, straightening in surprise. “That isn’t my intention, I assure you.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” I wasn’t an expert—I’d only watched about a hundred serial killer documentaries over the course of my sad single-person Saturdays—but I was pretty sure that by the time a killer had you alone and locked in their basement lair they were usually fairly upfront about their intentions. “So will you let me go?”
Alastor was still staring at me, studying me with that same brutal purposefulness I’d noticed from the moment he’d stepped into the room. He struck me as the sort of man who never did anything frivolously, which made his attention that much more unsettling.
“I won’t hold you against your will,” he said finally. “That’s between you and my brother. As far as I’m concerned, you can leave.”
“What was he so afraid of?” I asked. “When the lights went out, I mean? Why did he think I was in danger?”
His pause felt as deliberate as everything else about him. “What did he tell you?”
“Nothing. Honestly, your brothers seem to enjoy being annoyingly vague. And refusing to answer questions.”
“You’ve met both of them, then.”
“Yes.” My lips tingled at the memory of Octavian’s kiss, but I figured that was not the sort of thing I needed to reveal to Alastor. “And I still have no idea why I was even invited here in the first place. I’m not anyone important.”
“No, I don’t believe you are.”
Well, that settled that, at least.
He straightened even further, looking more irritated by the second. “I told you you’re free to go. Aren’t you going to leave?”
Now that I was being handed the opportunity to escape, I was second-guessing myself.
“You’re sure there’s no reason I should be…worried?” It felt silly to even suggest it out loud, but Radven’s concern had been pretty convincing.
Alastor gave a resigned sigh, then pointed toward the table. “Sit.”
It wasn’t a suggestion. I could tell he was the sort of guy who expected to be obeyed, and while I wanted to resist for the sake of my pride, I saw no reason to refuse. Maybe this meant he was going to finally give me some answers.
And honestly, I wasn’t going to turn down the opportunity to give my poor feet a break. I didn’t often wear heels, and my feet were starting to protest.
“I don’t suppose you happen to have any snacks down here,” I said, settling down into one of the chairs and finding it surprisingly comfortable. I hadn’t been lying when I mentioned wanting to hit the buffet. Now that I’d finally paused for a moment, I realized I was starving.
Alastor just glowered at me, and I raised my hands in a placating gesture.
“I’m kidding,” I said, but no sooner had the words left my mouth than my stomach let out a humiliatingly loud rumble.
And…there goes my last shred of dignity.
Alastor, still scowling, shot me a death-glare before marching over to a painting that hung between two of the bookcases. He touched a place on the right side of the gilded frame, and with a little click it swung open, revealing a small fridge set into the wall behind the work of art.
When he returned to the table, he unceremoniously dropped a platter in front of me. It was covered in a wide array of fancy cheeses.
“You’ll have to make do with that,” he growled, as if he’d just served me a plate of literal garbage.
Rich people. Not that I was complaining. I plucked a piece of hard white cheese from the plate and popped it into my mouth—and my eyes just about rolled back in my head. Occasionally I’d splurge on something from the cheese counter at the grocery store, but this was next-level goodness.
I didn’t even notice Alastor pouring me a glass of liquor until he set it down in front of me.
“Scotch,” he said in response to my raised eyebrows. “It’s all we keep down here.”
Was that a peace offering? Or did he just think I’d annoy him less if he got me drunk?
Honestly, I didn’t care. Scotch definitely wasn’t my drink of choice, and I knew I should probably eat before imbibing any more alcohol—heck, even the table was giving me that shivery feeling now—but I wasn’t about to pass up what would probably be the most expensive liquor I ever tasted.
I picked up the glass and took a sip of the amber liquid.
It was smokier than I expected—my tongue definitely wasn’t ready—but also a little sweet, and it was so smooth I didn’t feel even a hint of a burn as it slid down my throat. Maybe I could be a Scotch drinker after all.
When I lowered my glass, I found Alastor staring at me again. He’d taken the seat across from mine, positioning himself with his back to the big windows and dark water.
And he’d taken off his mask.
I wasn’t sure when it had happened—I’d been too focused on stuffing my face with cheese and avoiding his intense stare—but now that I’d seen his face, I couldn’t look away.
He was striking. Not traditionally attractive, the way I imagined Octavian and Radven looked beneath their masks.
His nose was too hawkish, his brow too heavy, his jaw too angular.
His sharp features were softened somewhat by his thick, dark hair, which was wavy in some places and curly in others like he’d let it air-dry after a swim in the ocean.
And his skin was golden brown, but also oddly sallow in places, like he’d just gotten over being sick.
Either way, though, he was just as intimidating now as he’d been with that terrifying mask.
I realized I was staring, so I quickly swallowed the bite of cheese in my mouth and looked down at the tray again, pretending to take my time choosing my next piece. After dragging it out for as long as I reasonably could, I selected a slice of something pale yellow and flecked with bits of dill.
When I looked up again, Alastor was still watching me. It made the back of my neck itch.
“It’s rude to stare, you know,” I told him.
“No ruder than squatting in someone’s private chamber and demanding food.”
I paused with my next bite of cheese halfway to my mouth, not sure whether to be embarrassed or offended.
“Your brother locked me in here,” I reminded him.
“He didn’t really give me a choice in the matter.
And you didn’t have to offer me the cheese.
But you did, and I accepted it like a grateful guest. I thought it would be rude to refuse.
” As much as it killed me to do it, I pushed the tray of delectable cheeses away from me.