Chapter 19
Isit in bed after Mom leaves, anxious and unsettled. Everything feels out of control, like my entire world is crashing down around me and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. Inside, I feel hollow. Numb.
I tell myself to breathe. To cool down. To give it time.
But I can’t.
Fuck it.
I can’t keep lying here, paralyzed and powerless. I have to see Hayes. I need to know he’s okay. If anyone can pull him out of this, it’s not Amber—it’s me. He just needs to remember that.
I rip off my pizza-stained pajamas and throw on a pair of leggings and an old fleece-lined pullover to brace against the November chill. My hair goes into a low ponytail, and then I grab my keys and head to my car.
I pause for a breath in the driver’s seat, debating as I look at my cell phone. I should probably text my mom and let her know where I’m going so she doesn’t worry.
But I don’t.
She’d only try to stop me, and my mind is already made up.
Just as I start the engine, my phone buzzes with a new message.
Come over. I need you.
My heart leaps as I stare at the screen.
It’s from Hayes.
This is the first text he’s sent since the night his father died. It can’t be a coincidence. It feels like fate. Like somehow, he felt me reaching for him, and now he’s reaching back.
Ten minutes later, I pull through the security gate at Laguna Hills Bluffs and wind my way up the long drive to the Vassilios home. The sky has already slipped into twilight, the last scraps of daylight bleeding out over the hills.
One by one, security lights flicker on, casting cold white beams across the trees and driveway. Shadows stretch long and low as I pull up to the front steps. Before I can even knock, the door swings open, and two people I’ve never seen before stand in the doorway.
Two jaw-droppingly gorgeous people.
Staring back at me are a man and a woman, a few years older than me, with the kind of striking looks that don’t seem entirely real.
The man is aggressively tall, broad-shouldered and olive-toned, with a mouth made for trouble.
Full lips, straight teeth, and the faintest grin playing at the corners.
His hair is white-blond, bright as winter frost, cut clean and sharp, and he’s got eyes the most intense shade of green I’ve ever seen, like polished emeralds.
A thin scar cuts from his brow to the edge of his cheekbone, stopping just short of his jaw.
It should ruin the symmetry of his perfect face, but somehow, it only makes him more handsome.
And judging by the smirk on his face, he looks like he knows it, too.
The woman beside him is just as breathtaking, but in a colder, almost reptilian way.
Her eyes are like onyx, so deep and dark they barely reflect light.
Thick curls spill down her back in a cascade of red, streaked with radioactive green at the tips.
She’s unnaturally still, her presence coiled and watchful, like a venomous snake lying in tall grass. Beautiful but lethal.
“Oh… hi,” I say. “I wasn’t expecting Hayes to have company.”
There’s a spark of interest in the man’s eyes, intense and unsettling. Like he’s been expecting me but isn’t sure whether to be amused by my arrival—or annoyed.
“Alysander, right?” he asks, his voice low and smooth, like smoke curling through the air.
“Y-yes,” I stammer. “I’m sorry… who are you?”
“Nikolas,” he says, then gestures to the woman beside him. “And this is Selene. We’ve heard a lot about you.” His lips twitch, like he’s in on some joke I’m not.
“Nice to meet you,” I reply, though the words come out a little stiff.
Truthfully, I’m not sure it is nice. Every instinct is telling me something is off. Hayes has never mentioned these people to me. Not once. And I know everything there is to know about Hayden Basileus Vassilios.
So who the hell are they?
And what are they doing in his house?
“Are you… Hayes’s family?” I ask, eyeing them.
Am I finally meeting some elusive relatives? I wasn’t sure they even existed.
The woman, Selene, doesn’t answer. She just stares, stone-faced and unreadable.
“Something like that,” Nikolas says. The two of them trade a glance, quick and quiet, like they’re used to communicating without speaking.
I notice Nikolas still hasn’t moved from the doorway, like he’s blocking me from entry.
“Can I come in? Hayes told me to come over.”
After a brief, measuring pause, Nikolas steps aside and opens the door wider.
“Did he?” he says, more observation than question. “Well then. We wouldn’t want to keep Hayden waiting.”
There’s a trace of something in his tone. Not mocking exactly, but not totally neutral either. He almost seems… irritated by me. Though I can’t think of any reason why. I’ve known the guy for all of two seconds.
Either way, I find it odd the way he says Hayes’s name, like it means something different to him than it does to me.
I hesitate for half a second, then step inside. The moment I’m in the foyer, the light hits, and I get a full look at their outfits.
And… wow.
Nikolas wears a long black trench coat that hugs his broad, muscular frame like it was tailored just for him. His dark pants are sleek, tucked into heavy, steel-toed boots. He’s like a cross between a sexy biker and a contract killer.
Selene’s dressed similarly. A black latex catsuit clings to her like a second skin, glinting under the lights like oiled leather. Matching boots rise all the way up her thighs.
Other than the fact they’re both in black, it’s not exactly what you’d call proper mourning attire. They look like they just walked straight off the set of The Matrix.
“Uh, are you guys going somewhere?” I ask.
“No,” Selene says, blinking slow and blank. “Why do you ask?”
I let out a quick, forced laugh. “No reason.”
Okay. This is officially weird.
I head toward the kitchen, hoping they’ll go back to doing whatever they were doing before I arrived, but instead, they fall into step behind me.
Nikolas on my right. Selene on my left. They’re like twin shadows, flanking me in perfect sync, close enough to make the hairs on the back of my neck rise.
Something about it feels… deliberate.
As if I’m being herded.
Like prey.
“Oh, you don’t have to come with me. I’ll just hang in the kitchen until Hayes comes down,” I say, turning to pause. They stop, too—at the exact same time.
“We don’t mind,” Nikolas replies, his voice velvet-smooth, a sly, almost-smile flickering at the corner of his mouth. “Do we, Selene?”
“Not at all,” she says.
I perch on one of the stools at the kitchen island, trying not to fidget under their scrutiny. I can already tell Selene clearly doesn’t like me for some reason. Can’t say I’m a fan either.
But Nikolas…
He’s hot.
That much is undeniable, though he’s a bit rigid, bordering on smug. And the way he looks at me? It’s unsettling, like how Argy stares at his food right before he lunges. There’s something almost predatory in it.
Still, under different circumstances—and with a drastically improved personality—I could probably be into a guy like him. Those eyes, those lips, the stupidly cool coat.
Definitely my type, unfortunately.
He leans forward, elbows on the counter, his gaze sweeping over me like I’m some strange abstract painting in a gallery he can’t quite understand. And isn’t sure he wants to.
“Can’t believe I’m finally meeting Hayes’s Alysander,” he says.
I blink. “Excuse me?”
“You know he talks about you constantly.”
Heat blooms in my cheeks. I don’t know how to respond to that.
“Well… I hope I live up to the hype,” I joke.
Nikolas’s eyes move over me in a measured sweep. The air tightens between us.
“I doubt that’s possible.”
Okay then…
It’s not just what he says, which I’m fairly sure is some kind of jab. It’s the way his gaze locks onto me, cool and assessing, like he’s already made up his mind. Like I’m being measured against some invisible standard—and coming up short.
Also—where the hell is Hayes? As usual, he seems to be taking his sweet time.
“So, um, how long are you two in town?” I ask, mostly to break the tension.
“Not long,” Nikolas says. “If all goes as planned.”
Selene lets out a soft, knowing laugh, and they trade another look I’m clearly not meant to understand.
I have no idea what’s going on, or why they’re being so cryptic about a harmless question. But apparently, these are Hayes’s long-lost, sort-of-asshole relatives I’ve never heard of, so I push for normal.
“Are you guys from around here?”
Nikolas’s gaze sharpens, just a fraction.
“No.”
That’s it. No explanation. No follow-up.
The silence stretches, awkward and heavy. I resist the urge to sigh. Granted, I’m not the most social person on the planet, but these two make conversation feel like an endurance test.
“Then where are you from?” I try again. “Greece? Like Hayes’s family?”
I lean forward a little, genuinely curious. Hayes has always been cagey about his summers overseas, about Athens and the life he disappears into every summer. Maybe they’ll finally fill in some blanks.
Selene laughs, dry and humorless.
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“And you don’t answer any,” I snap back, my patience officially worn thin. “I’d just like to know who’s hanging out in my best friend’s house, that’s all.”
Another glance between them. Another secret I’m not in on.
“Well,” Nikolas says, his voice velvety and faintly mocking, “if you stay patient, like a good girl, I suspect you’ll get all your answers soon enough.”
This guy is seriously something else. I honestly can’t tell if he’s flirting with me or threatening me.
Maybe both.
Selene cocks her head, eyes narrowing as she drags her gaze down my body in a way that makes my skin crawl.
“You’re not what I was expecting,” she says, tongue clicking against teeth. “You’re different from your sister.”
That throws me for a second.
“You know Amber?” I ask.
“Unfortunately,” Selene mutters, wrinkling her nose. “All that pink. Who does she think she is—Princess Barbie?”