Chapter 7
The kitchen smelled of coffee and something warm and buttery that made my stomach growl despite the sour conversation we had just finished in my room.
Isa, the chef Dominic hired—slash compelled—to work here, moved like a little dynamo between the stove and the counter as she plated what looked like enough food to feed an army.
Dominic had paid her very well for her time, and despite my initial objections, I couldn’t deny that she’d become indispensable.
Not only because she never questioned the odd hours or the occasionally bloodstained clothing, but because she was an absolute sorceress in the kitchen. Figuratively speaking, of course.
Outside the windows, the sky hung low and gray, pressing down on the estate with the weight of an impending storm.
The fog from last night had burned off, but the overcast remained, turning everything beyond the glass into muted shades of slate and shadow.
The trees along the property line swayed in the rising wind, their bare branches scraping against each other with a sound that carried even through the glass.
Tessa was already sitting at the kitchen table when we strolled in, her plate piled higher than I’d ever seen.
She had a piece of bacon halfway to her mouth when she noticed us, and something flickered across her face.
It looked like relief mixed with something else.
Embarrassment? Anger? It was hard to tell with my sister.
“Well, look who finally decided to join us,” she said, demolishing the piece of bacon with striking dedication. Grease glistened at the corner of her mouth before she wiped it away with the back of her hand.
That was rich, considering she’d spent most of the last forty-eight hours asleep.
“Good morning to you too,” I said instead as I pulled out a chair at the table and flopped down in it. The wood creaked under my weight, and I had to shift to find a comfortable position.
Dominic and Trace quickly took the chairs on either side of me, making themselves close and comfortable even though neither one of them were going to be eating breakfast.
“How did last night go?” asked Gabriel from the far end of the table. His arms were crossed along his chest, his leather jacket pulling at the sleeves.
The question was simple enough, but I managed to overreact just the same.
Mortification immediately shot up my neck and into my cheeks as images flashed through my mind before I could stop them. Dominic’s mouth between my thighs. Trace’s fangs sinking into my breast. The way they’d wrung pleasure from me until I begged and pleaded for them to stop.
My fingers curled around the edge of the table, gripping hard enough that my knuckles went white.
“Any sign of the voices returning?” he continued when I failed to produce an answer. His eyes never left my face, reading every micro-expression as if to siphon my answer before I gave it.
Relieved we weren’t thinking about the same thing, I shook my head and swallowed. “No. Nothing.”
Dominic shifted in his chair beside me, the movement subtle but noticeable. His hand came to rest on the back of my chair, his fingers lightly brushing the nape of my neck just enough to make me shiver. “I’d say the night resolved itself quite thoroughly.”
Jesus. If I could blush any harder than I already was, I would have.
I was never going to survive this house.
Gabriel’s gaze held mine for a beat too long, searching my face with that scrutinizing intensity that made me feel like he could see exactly what had happened in that bedroom.
Like he knew precisely why my face was flushed and why I couldn’t quite meet his eyes anymore.
A muscle in his jaw ticked once, the only sign of whatever he was thinking.
I sank lower in my chair, suddenly very interested in the eggs Isa was plating. “Need any help over there, Isa?”
“Oh, goodness no,” she said, waving me off as she hurried over with a plate already in hand.
Her hair was pulled back into a neat bun with the usual dollop of flour dusting the front of her apron.
“You just sit right there and eat while it’s still nice and hot.
” She set the dish in front of me—scrambled eggs, bacon, homemade croissants, and what looked like breakfast potatoes tossed with herbs—then shuffled off without waiting for a response.
Steam rose from the eggs in thin, inviting wisps and my stomach sang at the sight of it, loud enough that I was sure all three vampires at the table heard it.
Isa moved on to refill Tessa’s plate next, the serving spoon scraping against the ceramic as she added more potatoes, bacon, and another slice of toast. She didn’t comment, but her eyebrows definitely lifted in surprise as she took in the speed with which my sister was eating.
Yeah, that made two of us.
Tessa shoved another piece of bacon into her mouth, possibly her fifth or sixth, and I found myself watching her.
Bite after bite, she chewed without so much as a pause, her attention already moving to the next item on her plate before she’d finished swallowing.
She ate with a hunger I’d never seen from her before, almost compulsive in a way that didn’t appear entirely natural.
I was just about to open my mouth and ask her if she swallowed some kind of tapeworm or parasite when she beat me to the punch.
“So, are we going to talk about it?” she asked, her fork pausing halfway to her mouth, her eyes narrowed as they cut around the table. “Or are we just going to sit here and pretend yesterday didn’t happen?”
“Which part?” asked Trace as he sank back in his chair, his legs widening as he dragged his tongue slowly across his lower lip.
There was an ease to him this morning that hadn’t been there yesterday, a calm that seemed to come easier when he was close to me, even as his attention stayed fixed on the room.
“All of it.” Her eyes landed on me, assessing me despite the exhaustion visible in the lines around them. “The voices coming back…Famine showing up here in the middle of the night.” She paused for dramatic effect, stabbing at her eggs with unnecessary force. “The fact that you nearly killed Trace.”
“Seriously, Tessa?” My appetite vanished on the spot. I leaned back in my chair instead, crossing my arms as I glared at her from across the table. “I didn’t ‘nearly kill Trace’,” I objected through clenched teeth.
What happened last night was bad enough without her revising history.
“Fine. Nearly got him killed,” she clarified, rolling her eyes as though there was no difference. She reached for her orange juice, the glass already leaving a ring of condensation on the table. “So, is this spell thing affecting all of us, or just you?”
I scoffed. “Judging by your gluttonous appetite, I’d say all of us.”
Somebody snorted as Tessa’s eyes all but bulged out of her face at me.
“Excuse me?” Her voice went up an octave. She set her juice down so hard liquid sloshed over the rim.
Dominic’s mouth twitched as Gabriel looked down at the table like he wanted to disappear into it.
“Look, I mean no offense, Tess, but—” I gestured at her plate with my hand. “You’ve eaten more in the last ten minutes than I saw you eat all of last summer, and gluttony is one of the seven deadly sins.”
Her mouth opened, then closed. She looked down at her plate as though seeing it for the first time, at the half-eaten pile of food that would have easily fed three people. Her throat worked as she swallowed, a hint of realization passing through her expression and making her cheeks turn red.
“Not that there’s anything wrong with it,” I clarified, feeling bad for even bringing it up much less harping on her about it.
“I mean, I’ve killed more than my fair share of meals before, but it’s…
not like you,” I finished honestly, because it wasn’t.
Tessa had always been an energy drink and trail mix kind of girl.
She fixed me with a glare that could have peeled paint off the walls, which, in all fairness, I had coming.
“It’s not just you,” offered Gabriel, his voice cutting through the tension as he leaned forward and propped his elbows on the table. “The spell has clearly been affecting everyone in the house. It’s subtle but it’s there, stripping away restraint and pushing us toward our baser impulses.”
“How is that possible when the entire house is warded?” she shot back, the bite in her voice hard enough to draw blood. Her knuckles had gone white around her fork.
“There has to be something here,” lamented Trace, his hand finding my knee under the table. “Some kind of talisman or charm keeping the spell active.”
“So that means they found a way to get past the wards,” she said slowly, sinking back in her chair as she tried to wrap her mind around how any of this was possible.
She pushed her plate away, finally, as though the sight of it now repulsed her.
“But how can that be? Caleb put the wards up himself.” She paused. “Unless—”
“Unless he didn’t,” finished Dominic. His voice was low, but there was no mistaking the accusation in it.
The implication quickly registered, hardening my sister’s expression and casting shadows beneath her cheekbones. “I swear on everything, if that fucker—”
“We don’t know anything yet,” I cut in, my protest sounding thin and weak, even to my own ears.
Because everything we knew about this pointed straight at Caleb, and I hated admitting it, no matter how much it made my chest feel tight and uncomfortable.
“Let’s just wait until we actually talk to him before jumping to conclusions. ”
“Great. Then let’s fucking do that.” She threw her hands up in frustration, sending a piece of toast skidding across her plate. “Has anyone spoken to him yet?”
“Romeo made contact this morning,” answered Dominic as Tessa turned to Trace.
“I texted him and told him we needed him to pass by and check on the wards today.” Trace glanced at the clock on the stove. “He should be here within the hour.”
“That’s if he even bothers to show up at all,” muttered Tessa. “I wouldn’t put it past him to bail, especially if he’s got something to hide.”
“He’ll come,” I said, the words leaving my mouth more like a prayer than a statement of fact.
Thunder rolled outside as the first drops of rain began to fall, light at first and then faster, tapping against the windows in uneven bursts. The sky darkened another shade, the overcast thickening until the grounds beyond the glass blurred at the edges.
The temperature in the kitchen seemed to drop with it, as though the storm was pulling all the warmth right out of the room. I had the distinct feeling that once Caleb arrived, it was only going to get worse, and judging by the tension around the table, I wasn’t the only one who felt it.
Tessa blew out a breath as she tucked her short hair behind her ears and then folded her arms on the table.
“Okay. So say it is him. How exactly are you planning on getting answers out of him?” She looked between Dominic and Trace.
“It’s not like he’s going to stroll in here and confess to sabotaging the wards. ”
“We have our ways.” Dominic’s smile was positively dangerous, the kind that promised pain wrapped in civility.
“That’s very reassuring. Care to elaborate?” she asked as she reached for a piece of bacon on her plate and then seemingly changed her mind.
“We’re just going to ask him a few questions and see how he reacts,” explained Trace, his hand squeezing my knee as he spoke. I could feel the tension in his grip; the effort it was taking him to appear calm about this. “Caleb always gives himself away when he’s lying.”
“And if he doesn’t give himself away?” she pressed. Her eyes moved between them expectantly.
“Then we’ll simply help him along,” said Dominic, his voice deceptively sweet.
“Good. Then it’s settled,” said Gabriel, his expression remaining mostly neutral, but there was a faint darkness in his eyes that suggested he more than approved of the approach.
“I’m going to do a quick sweep of the house before Caleb gets here and see if I can find any sign of a talisman.
The fewer variables we’re dealing with when he arrives, the better it’ll be,” he said and straightened.
“I’ll come with you,” said Tessa, pushing back from the table as the chair legs scraped against the floor. Her plate was still half-full, but she didn’t seem to care anymore. “Two sets of eyes are better than one.”
They stood together and headed for the door. Gabriel fell into step without hesitation, his pace brisk and his posture straight as Tessa followed close behind, her hand briefly touching her stomach before falling away again.
As they disappeared into the hallway, the kitchen felt suddenly smaller.
Just me, Trace, and Dominic, with the storm building outside and Caleb on his way.
The rain was coming down harder now, drumming against the windows in a rhythm that matched the tension coiling in my chest. Water streaked down the glass in rivulets, distorting the view until the world outside looked like a watercolor left out in the rain.
Dominic stood and crossed to the window, his hands sliding into his pockets as he watched the storm roll in beneath a ceiling of cloud so dense it choked out the sun entirely.
His reflection in the glass was dark and hard-edged, more shadow than substance.
“He’ll never admit to it,” he said matter-of-factly.
“When we ask him about the wards. He’ll look us in the eye and lie. ”
“You don’t know that,” I argued, though the conviction in my voice was fading by the minute. I pushed the eggs around my plate without eating them, creating grooves in the scrambled yellow.
“Believe me, angel. I know.” He glanced back at me over his shoulder. The gray wash from outside carved his face in half-shadows, making him look sinister enough to mean every word of it. “Because if I were in his position, that’s exactly what I would do.”
Trace’s hand twitched against my knee, his eyes moving between me and Dominic. “Then we make sure he knows that lying won’t save him.”
Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled again, only this time, it felt like a warning. Like the world itself were bracing for impact. One way or another, we were going to get answers today. And if Caleb had betrayed us, if he’d helped the Order put their hands on me, then God help him.
Because we sure as hell wouldn’t.