Chapter 9
VESSA
Iwake to the sight of frost clinging to my window, clouding the view of the world beyond.
Staring at my open suitcases, I opt for a colorful sweater and leather belt that I loop through the waistband of my favorite pair of jeans.
Next, I weave my hair into a loose braid and hook on a pair of dangly pearl earrings I once found in my mother's jewelry box. She never did ask for them back.
The memory fades with a tug on my heart.
I gaze into the bathroom mirror. There isn’t much of me that resembles my mother.
Cheeks paled by winter—my father's. A narrow, slightly upturned nose, light brown eyes—also Daniel Lemaire's. Benjamin, on the other hand, almost exclusively took after Mom with her gorgeous tan complexation and onyx eyes. To this day, I’ve always envied that about him.
Black Oak, she used to call him in the language of her ancestors, the first people of the Heartlands Plains. I was her Moonflower.
A part of me still mourns for that, too.
That name is the only connection I have to my mother’s heritage—the Noctosanoc—meaning those who gaze into the dark.
Nearly all were lost to influenza brought ashore by Mongassi silver traders a little over a century ago.
My great-great-grandparents were among the handful of survivors who fled to the inoculated streets of Crayford.
As generations passed, whisper spread that it wasn’t sickness at all; rather, it was the work of a demon.
Compared to Aurora’s Belt, there’s nothing wild about where I come from.
Overharvested fields and a bland cityscape of imposing structures raised from steel and concrete.
Barren as it is, it planted the most exhilarating dream in my heart: that one day I might command all the spotlights in Montrose. There, the stages don’t get any bigger.
Nell and Cora escort me to the kitchen of Lupine Manor, where I take a seat on a bronze barstool.
Coffee is already poured, and three plates are uncovered, revealing scrambled eggs, biscuits, and a mouthwatering pile of bacon.
As the two exchange a volley of giggles, I listen idly while admiring the handiwork of the space, fairly modern compared to most of what I've seen inside this mountain fortress.
Cedar logs remain the backdrop, though they are contrasted with bright industrial lights and white rustic cabinets.
A long countertop stretches across the polished hardwood floor, an impressive slab of sparkling granite.
Fruit baskets are filled to the brim, and I help myself to a shiny plum.
Once we've all cleared our plates, Nell hooks an arm around me, hauling me towards the stairwell.
Cora groans as we begin our ascent. "Sorry, I'm gonna have to take it slow."
Instinctively, I turn over my shoulder.
She waves me off with a slight flush in her cheeks. "I'm fine. Sorry, just trying to cope with the lack of sleep I got last night. Felix was screaming in his crib for most of it.”
Nell snickers. “You know, eventually your son won’t be able to cover for you anymore.”
“Wait, what?” I ask.
“Poor Cora must’ve had a rough tumble in the sheets last night,” Nell continues. “This isn't the first time she's been too sore to face the stairs."
"Zip it,” Cora hisses.
Nell carries on. "C'mon, we all know how demanding Qinnu can be. Even though most of the time you're the one baiting him.” Lowering to a whisper, she cups her mouth. “It’s always the quiet ones, isn’t it?”
The medic doesn't deny it, even as she rolls her hazel eyes. Both of us are breathless as we mount the final step.
“All I’m saying is that she has a half-decent excuse. You don’t, Doc. Unless you ended up with a concussion, too, which in that case, I’m going to need to know what position you were—
"Nell!"
My stomach cramps with laughter as we take the left flank of a hallway that looks as if it were just polished for a feature in an interior design magazine.
A rustic cocktail table is displayed in the foyer, along with a round golden mirror and a landscape painting of a countryside estate that harkens back to the work of Sylo’s renowned impressionists.
Between elaborate sconces and several other pastoral pieces adorning the walls, my gaze flits to each work of beauty as I pass.
My eyes widen as I take in the new wing of the house.
It's not a hallway at all—in fact, it's an opening to a grand room that features a massive canopy bed.
The space is a clever marriage of classic Eastern elegance and contemporary woodwork.
While the natural color of the wood showcases throughout most of the manor, in this room, an eggshell white covers most of the walls, with alternating wood panels of winding vines along the borders.
A sigh slips from my lips as I take in the silky drapes, a golden vanity with a vase of roses and baby’s breath, a cozy nook with a velvet reading chaise, and a balcony outside with a small table and chairs.
Nell strolls over to the vanity. "This wing was rebuilt after the fire.”
Fire?
“Axe did most of this himself, salvaging what he could. With my expert guidance, of course. We designed this room with you in mind.”
"But you didn’t even know—” A golden glass case full of sparkling trinkets crosses my vision. My breath hitches as I take in the polished gemstones. Four shelves adorned with jewelry fit for a queen.
"Those belonged to Axe's mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother," Cora says. "This entire wing served as their private quarters. And now, it is yours. Everything in here is yours."
My eyes bulge wide.
Nell strokes a hand over her belly. "Not bad, huh?" I follow her gaze towards the ceiling, where a priceless Volkenese crystal chandelier illuminates the room.
With more still to uncover, I walk over to the bed, gliding my hand along the lavender silk sheets.
The entire room smells of the demulcent herb.
I peek my head around the corner where a bathing room awaits, complete with a sparkling white tub and a rack of perfumes and essential oils. Everything a woman could possibly need.
I turn to face the women waiting for my approval. "I don't even know what to say. This is incredible."
“Better get used to it," Nell quips, motioning towards Cora. “C’mon, let’s give her some breathing room.”
Indeed, my head is spinning, baffled by the number of precious gowns and accessories at my disposal.
No costumes I ever donned in my performances were ever crafted from such fine materials.
The dresses and skirts are all stunning, some ranging from twenty to ninety years old, though sadly, none of them come anywhere close to fitting my petite frame.
Or my bust. Nell wasn't kidding about these females being light in the cleavage department.
After a good hour of playing dress up, I decide to explore the opposite wing on the top floor.
The other side of the foyer splits off into two doors.
The first room is a massive private library.
Timber walls are laden with vintage maps and miscellaneous antlers.
I can picture Axe here in solitude among the towering shelves and brown leather furniture, perhaps even a cigar between his lips.
Next to the largest window sits a shelf with three picture frames propped on top of it.
One photo is a pair of two golden-haired children holding an infant.
This must be Axe, Dominik, and their older sister.
The middle frame shows the young Skornokovy boys smiling outside of a snow fort they built together alongside a dark-haired toddler with the most adorable round cheeks. A native of Tukkon.
On the end, a frame contains the image of what looks to be an older version of Dominik wrapping his tan arms around a woman’s waist. A timeless beauty with cool brown hair, a long slender frame, and eyes of sapphire blue.
Curiosity nudges me to turn the next doorknob. Taking my first step, the aroma of leather and mahogany fills my senses, Axe’s bedroom revealed before me.
Under the first of two vertical windows accentuated with burgundy curtains is a desk littered with folders and a round bottle of bourbon.
Two bronze sconces are mounted beside a colossal bed.
The low light casts a gleam over charcoal silk sheets, neatly folded.
Facing the mattress is a herringbone brick fireplace with a breathtaking painting to serve as its focal point.
A bronze frame encapsulates the familiar image of the aurora sky as it watches over two wolves curled around each other.
One is black with green eyes, the smaller wolf having a slate coat offset by cobalt eyes.
A tribute to his parents. Perhaps this is what Axe thinks of when he sees the magical colors at night.
The beaming heavens where his loved ones are at peace.
I could admire the painting for hours, though technically I was never invited in here to begin with.
Checking the time on the clock that sits on his dresser, I swear under my breath.
Quickly, I dash downstairs to retrieve my coat, praying that my scent isn't still lingering in his room when we return.
Axe
“You mean to tell me”—my sister’s voice lowers—“you’ve had an unmarked human female roaming the territory for three days now?”
To be frank, I had no intention of going to Lupercalia.
Demi, who is constantly sticking her nose in other people’s business, had me registered.
Three weeks later, I found out that I was being forced to take some mandatory time off.
Mandatory. Her favorite word, as it is for all stringent rule followers.
As a kid, some days I wanted to punch her lights out more than I did my jerkoff superior officers.
Although for some reason, I didn't feel like objecting to her nagging this time. When Demi handed me the Alpha title, that came with the obligation to find a partner. A duty that I have sorely neglected.