Chapter Four
The car eventually pulls up into a suburban neighborhood, which I’d guess is about a twenty-minute drive from Greywood.
We pass several houses that increase in size and glamour.
Eventually we go into a gated community.
Not community, I realize after a moment.
A gated fucking mansion, a home that I instinctively know belongs to these three.
The house looks like it came straight out of a gothic novel—grey brick exterior; three stories tall and wide; a freaking tower on both ends of it.
I would not be surprised if it’s stood here for well over a century and was once owned by some mega-rich dude with pervert tendencies.
There’s a mixture of vibes coming from the house itself; some are dark, some are light.
I think that this house has seen many horrors, but it’s also seen laughter, friendship, and tight-knit bonds.
The bond between the three guys in the car with me is tight.
Seamus and Dorian are closest, and Connor…
well, I think he sees the other two as his property.
I’m reasonably sure he’s deep on the antisocial spectrum, and the few people I’ve met like him aren’t capable of friendship so much as possessiveness.
They can see another person as an extension of themselves, they can form attachments, but they don’t get sweet or cuddly sentiments.
Connor parks the car in a circular driveway that has a fountain. Obviously, these three are wealthy, though I don’t know if any of them were born into wealth. I think they’ve managed to acquire it through whatever business had them digging in the forest at midnight.
Dorian taps my thigh, signaling for me to pull out my headphones. I’ve calmed down through the car ride, so I take the risk, popping one of my beloved AirPods out.
Dorian watches me, unspeaking. His stare is unwavering, unapologetic, and strikingly bold. He exudes confidence, and something about him suggests his self-assurance is earned through life experience. I hold his gaze despite the faint discomfort it stirs in me. “What now?”
A small smile lifts his lips. He’s unreasonably handsome, and it seems wrong to see such beauty on a person who ran me down like I was wild game he was hunting. The devastatingly sexy upwards curve of his lips feels like a personal affront.
“Now, we go inside. We’ll talk over a drink.”
“I don’t drink much,” I respond. “Do we have to talk?”
“Yes. It’ll be brief. You don’t have to drink—I can get you a soda. We have pretty much everything stocked up.” He takes both my AirPods and returns them to their case, slipping it back into my backpack. “Stay in the car.”
He opens his door, grabs my backpack, and rounds the vehicle.
Connor and Seamus exit the car in unison, leaving me alone in the luxurious interior.
The three of them meet at the front of the hood and exchange hushed words, occasionally throwing glances in my direction.
I wonder if I should tell them they could’ve spoken freely in the car while I had my headphones in.
I’ve trained myself to mentally detach from people and their energies when I’m listening to my classical music playlist. It took a while, but I eventually learned to blur out the presence of others and entirely immerse myself in the melodies of specific songs.
Sometimes it’s the only way I can sleep.
Connor says something with furrowed brows before turning and walking into the house. Seamus and Dorian stay outside a bit longer, chatting. Seamus slaps Dorian on the shoulder, breezes his gaze over the car, then heads inside, as well. Dorian rounds the car and opens my door for me.
“Am I still safe from swimming with the fishes?” I ask. “Or being buried in a grave? Hey, if you kill me, can you bury me in a specific spot on the mountain? I’d like to be near my pack.”
Dorian stares at me for a long moment before a small smile tips up his lips. He shakes his head with amusement. “Nobody’s killing you. Let’s go inside.”
“Can I have my phone?”
“No. You can have it for school tomorrow.”
“So I’m going to school tomorrow? That’s relieving.
I’d lose what little sanity I have left if I missed classes and got behind.
” I tilt my head. “It’s surprising that you’re giving me my phone and letting me go to school.
” I watch him closely, searching his eyes.
They remain completely blank; he has a masterful poker face on, but his energy hums with calculation.
“Oh, you’re gonna bug it tonight. Okay.”
“Do you always just… know things?” Dorian questions, taking my arm and gently pulling me out of the car.
I shake my head. “No. That’d be really useful, but no.
I don’t know a lot of things—it’s not like I can foresee the future or anything.
That would be nice, though. Then I wouldn’t have gone up to the mountain tonight.
” I frown at the tear on my shirt, which reveals a bit of my waist. “Or torn my shirt. God, the alpha is such a jerk. I love him and he’s protective of me, but he’s also irritatingly possessive.
I have to bribe him every time I try to leave.
Last week, he walked me down and tried to get in my car with me. ”
“You have a thing for taming wild beasts?” Dorian asks, gazing at me.
“Not really. They have a thing for claiming me. I’ve seen the alpha run down a rabbit and snap its neck with a single bite, but if one of his wolves gets rough with me—even when it's playful—he puts them in their place. It’s like I said, I think he sees me as a pack member. A weak one in need of protection.”
“Are there any other forest friends you have?” Dorian questions, taking my arm and steering me toward the house. I go willingly, because I suspect running is futile.
“A skulk of foxes on another mountain.”
“Tell me about them,” Dorian requests.
I glance at him, startled. I’m used to people asking me to shut the fuck up, not encouraging me to go on. “Why?”
“I like hearing you talk. You have a soothing voice.”
“Oh.” I pause as he opens a grand wooden door that has a lion engraved on it. He leads me into a polished entryway, with a coat closet and a hat rack that has fedoras reminiscent of those worn by 1960’s gangsters hanging on it, along with a few holsters and… is that a bulletproof vest? Weird.
Beyond the entryway, a maze of hallways branches off in various directions, the walls adorned with intricate moldings and softly illuminated by overhead lights.
One to the left leads to a staircase of polished wood, its banister carved with delicate patterns that look like vines.
Another hallway to the right is a path to what looks like the kitchen, which gleams with a beautiful marble center island.
Straight ahead, the largest opening beckons toward a sitting room.
Dorian leads me straight into the lovely living room.
The decorations are simplistic, with a color scheme of navy blue and black.
A dark blue furniture set stands proudly before a huge flatscreen TV mounted on the right wall, with a simple black coffee table separating them.
An awesome stone-and-marble fireplace holds court on a wall to the left of the entrance, surrounded by bookshelves on either side.
The room has a high ceiling, and a bank of windows with tinted glass on the back wall, facing the side of the property.
It’s pretty in here—there’s something refined and tasteful yet simultaneously unhinged about this house.
“The foxes,” Dorian prompts, motioning for me to sit on the couch. He sets my backpack down beside it.
“Right,” I say, sinking into the plush navy cushions.
“I was hiking last winter when a white-furred vixen happened to dart across my path. She didn’t stop to approach me right then, but she did stalk me for a little while as I walked.
After I ate lunch, I offered her a crust of bread from my sandwich.
She emerged from the banks of snow to accept it.
It was an otherworldly experience. She blended with the snow so seamlessly—it was only her blue, blue eyes and dark pink nose that made her stand out.
” I smile as I reminisce. “We stared at each other for a while, she chittered at me, then trotted away. I went back a few days later and she found me again. That time I came armed with treats. She liked the fox-friendly cookies I baked for her and stuck around for a bit longer, even let me give her a stroke on her neck. I started visiting her regularly, and each time, she was more receptive to my touch. Two weeks later, she dumped the most adorable kit in my lap.” My smile grows at the memory, one of my favorite moments with furry friends.
“That threw me for a loop, since most animals are really protective of their young, but she just offered hers up to me. I figured that meant she trusted me way more than creatures of the wild should ever trust humans. Shortly after, five more kits came stumbling out of the woods and started falling over each other to climb on me. It was really cute. I visit the foxes less frequently than the wolves since they’re less attached to me, just once or twice a month. ”
“Have the foxes adopted you?”