Chapter 17 Maeve #3
I roll my eyes. “Don’t act like you care. We all know you force me to see her out of a formality—let’s not pretend otherwise.”
His expression darkens, his leather, amber, and fresh rain scent spiking sharply—frustration, sharp-edged and dangerous. It reminds me of a hurricane.
I hope he’s not wondering whether I overheard them. That’s the last fucking thing I need, considering I did.
And I have no interest in being punished for that particular privilege.
Helen smooths her blue blouse and offers me a warm smile. “Are you ready to head home today?”
I lift my chin, my heart pounding so loudly I’m amazed neither of them hears it. Interestingly, neither of them are wearing gold clothing.
Helen’s got her usual gold necklace and bracelet, but otherwise, it’s like they’ve used their outfits to send a message of their own. Not to us, this time, but to the sisters.
Very intriguing.
“Marianne sent me,” I say rather than engaging in their pathetic attempts at rattling me. “She wants you both at the table. Although, I get the feeling she just wanted me away from it to berate the boys for daring to be in my presence.”
Helen opens her mouth—probably to lie. Adrian moves first, and my heart clenches tightly.
“Of course, she does,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Sisters, hey?”
“Can’t relate,” I say dryly.
Helen grins at me, but I turn around and start leading them back the way I came rather than engaging with her.
“How are you feeling?” Helen asks, lengthening her stride to match mine.
For fuck’s sake. She’s so pathetically desperate.
I want to snap at her the same way I did Adrian, but annoyingly, Lucifer’s words about her surface in my mind instead. I can’t quite bring myself to do it.
Bastard that he is.
How dare he humanise her.
“Not too bad,” I say quietly. “It wasn’t fun, but you know.”
She nods, humming thoughtfully. “Your new person. Dr… Arnold?”
“Abbott. George,” I correct, ignoring the twist of my stomach as my chromius purrs. “He’s a griffin shifter.”
“Oh, yes,” she says with a soft smile. “I’ve worked with his mate before. Anisa.”
“Oh?” I glance at her. “What does she do?”
Helen smiles again, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Her dark brown gaze glistens as if tears are threatening to surface. My hand twitches at my side as a pull tightens at my chest.
I don’t want to comfort her.
I fucking hate touch.
So, why am I fighting the urge to grasp her hand?
“Like her mate, she’s a therapist,” she says gently. “She favours more alternative methods. I found them a good fit for me.”
“Like what?”
“I did some art therapy with her,” Helen replies, her authentic smile returning.
“Not going to lie, but that sounds awful.” I let out a small giggle, imagining George’s face if I suggested art therapy. “Do you still see her?”
“Not as regularly,” she admits, shaking her head. Then, after a beat, “Do you trust him?”
I shrug. “As much as I trust anyone, I suppose. He’s a decent person. And he’s the best liar I’ve met when it comes to caring.”
Helen hums again, and my chromius flicks her tail restlessly in my mind.
“One day, love,” Helen says softly, “you’re going to find yourself surrounded by people you can trust. So many of them. And it’s going to be the best thing for you.”
Sure, her words are probably meant to be reassuring.
But paired with her earlier words of I can’t wait for the day she has no choice but to trust us, they do the exact opposite.
Who needs a stalker when there’s these creepy fucks to contend with?
“This won’t take long.”
Leanne’s sharp voice cuts through the silence of my bedroom, and my heart jolts at the intrusion.
I turn away from the wardrobe to see the bitch standing in the doorway.
She looks the exact same as she did after dinner—immaculately overdressed—except she’s wearing soft ballet flats now instead of heels.
Something I guarantee was done deliberately to sneak around without drawing too much attention.
Without waiting for acknowledgment, Leanne steps fully inside my bedroom and closes the door behind her. I raise a brow.
“Just making sure we’re not interrupted,” she says brightly. I roll my eyes.
“I don’t think you could do anything worthy of being interrupted.”
I turn back to the wardrobe and sift through what little remains. Most of this I left behind on purpose.
But there are some dresses that I don’t remember buying. Ones that are so beautiful and made of such soft fabrics that I might not hate them.
I pull out the pink and blue before striding over to my bed. Leanne’s moved so she’s standing at the foot of it, one perfectly sculpted brow raised.
“What’s up?” I pop the ‘p’ sound as I carefully take the dresses off the hangers to put them in my borrowed suitcase.
Borrowed from Lucifer—not Adrian. I’d rather do without if it meant asking him—even with having no clothes after my stalker’s little gift.
“You will leave my son alone,” she says flatly.
My chromius snarls. Her fury surges through our bond, adrenaline flooding my veins as she braces for a fight.
Idiot.
We’ve got no shifter form, and she wants to go up against a pegasus princess?
Not a fucking chance—especially not when it’s over Julian.
“Bold opening,” I say mildly. “Have you considered that he’s an adult who can make his own decisions?”
She hisses, the squeal very equestrian. “This is not a discussion, you tart. You’re a complication my family doesn’t need—that my son could do so much better than. Julian is young, malleable, and—”
“An adult,” I repeat. “With free will, and a mostly functioning brain. Radical concept, I know, but maybe treating him like a little boy who still needs you to wipe his ass isn’t doing either of you any favours.”
My chromius flares hotter at the image of this woman touching our mate in that kind of way.
Goodness, she’s a possessive little monster.
Her hiss reverberates through my bones, low and furious, my fingers curling reflexively at my sides. Heat flashes through my chest, sharp and uncomfortable.
Not that fanning myself would calm the animal inside me.
“I will not have your… toxic poison taint him,” Leanne continues, stepping closer. “You are corruption personified. Chaos. A broken cow that follows him like a curse.”
I breathe through my nose, refusing to let her see the way her words affect me.
I know I’m poisonous.
I know I’m impure and worthless.
I’m broken.
Empty.
Dangerous.
But they’re my crosses to bear. Not something she can wield against me like a weapon.
“You’re a good for nothing whore who has worked some kind of magic on him,” she continues angrily. “And you need to leave him alone. With your filth, your darkness, your… whatever sickness it is that clings to you.”
You’re a dirty, filthy whore, aren’t you, baby girl?
My stepfather’s voice slams into my skull.
I shudder before erupting into giggles. It’s either I laugh or let my chameleon’s anger show. She might not have a form, but I guarantee she’s strong enough to do some damage.
The sound bubbles out of me, sharp and uncontrolled, and Leanne freezes—her expression locking into something rigid and ugly.
I think it would be deeply satisfying if her face stayed like that forever.
Everyone would see what lives under the surface of her mask.
“What is so funny?”
“Taint is just such a strong word,” I reply evenly. “Especially considering the shit your family has done to taint me.”
Her eyes sharpen into vicious slits. “You know nothing.”
“Funny,” I say lightly. “Everyone assumes that. And yet… I think I know more than most.” I pause, grateful my voice stayed steady despite the lie, before sweetly adding, “Don’t worry, though. I won’t use my whore ways on your son.”
Whore.
Slut.
Damaged little cumslut.
My chromius snarls, and I shove the memories of that night back into the locked mental box, slamming the lid shut before they can escape again.
I can’t do this right now.
Not with her.
Leanne’s gaze flicks to the closed door, and it almost amuses me that she sees me as the threat here.
I don’t have a shifter form. No one knows she’s here. She’s stronger than I am in every way that matters.
But, sure. She’s scared of me.
Cowardly bitch.
“Julian belongs with his family,” she says, her voice lower—more unrestrained.
“You’ll never be worthy of him. You’ve got no right to come here and isolate my son from us.
He has to go with you to your little pride because our patriarch has decided it so, but if I find out you’ve bound my angel to you… ”
She trails off, and I smirk at the foolish bitch. My chromius rears back, her fury coiling tight.
He is ours.
He’s mine.
If I could smack my animal, I would. We don’t want to claim the pegasus—I don’t, at least. But she’s firm in her beliefs and wants her property out of the clutches of this vampire.
“You’re very interested in our non-existent relationship,” I remark. “Does your mate know how much you covet being the only woman allowed to fuck your son?”
She gasps, her face twisting in disgust, and I let my smugness show.
That’s what the bitch gets.
“How… how… how dare you. You are a vile, disgusting girl,” she splutters. “I’m appalled. How could someone insinuate that? I would never.”
“More like he would never,” I taunt.
I zip up my suitcase and look at her seriously.
“Don’t worry, Leanne. I’m going to make sure Julian knows that none of us will let our darkness rub off on him.”
She exhales, seeming relieved. “You’ll not let the devils touch him either?”
I tap my nails against my suitcase, three times before being unable to continue punishing myself this way.
“I can’t tell a Graves man what to do.” I shrug and wink at her. “But, then again, you’re a woman in this family. You know all about that, don’t you?”
Her jaw tightens. “You’re a wicked girl, Maeve. You’re lucky we still have a use for you. Otherwise, you’d have been killed years ago.”
I still. Not because I’m surprised, but because it’s quite stupid of her to point it out.
Adrian will be furious with her.
How fun. I can share that little tidbit before I leave just to stir the pot.
“How generous,” I reply coolly. “So concerned for my well-being. Trust me, if the time comes where it’s me or your precious little heir… it’ll be fascinating to find out who your family decides is the best choice to die.”
Leanne’s expression darkens, but she doesn’t answer. Something dangerous flickers behind her eyes, but I’m not scared of her. She’s played her hand, and I know she can’t do anything to me, not without consequences.
Unfortunately for me.
“Now,” I add calmly, “if you’re finished embarrassing yourself, I’ve got an heir to collect—and a plane to catch.”
She stares at me for a long moment, anger simmering just beneath her skin. I can practically see her shift straining against her control.
But she does nothing.
With a sharp breath, she turns and leaves, not bothering to close the door behind her.
I exhale shakily.
Whatever the Graves family is involved in—whatever they’re trying to control—it has its claws in me far deeper than I realised.
And I don’t think leaving is going to make me safer at all.