I wince. A guest he has to get used to, and one that was thrust on him, isn’t a guest—I’m a burden. But, I won’t be here much longer so he won’t have to worry about it.
He flashes a smile, straightens and turns down the hall. “Come. We have an appointment.”
Passing those old oil portraits of uptight people, my muscles go rigid. I’m not sure why the paintings creep me out so much, they just do. I hold my purse with one hand and keep my other arm from swinging.
No fast movements.
My steps are economical, but keep pace with the count.
No surprises. Telegraph my actions.
I even will my hair to stop floating behind me.
Jean-Claude’s mood sours as we walk. “Stop that,” he says, eyes straight ahead.
“Stop what?”
“Stop controlling your movements and the natural sway of your hair… and your hips.”
“So only vampires can be stiff?” I tease because I’m suddenly nervous that he even noticed the sway of my hips, or lack thereof.
“Vampires are creatures of instinct,” he says as he turns to face me. I catch up with him. “We remain in control… not doing so would be catastrophic.”
His arrogance pisses me off. “So, dryads are just helpless, clueless creatures that have no worries all day.”
“Precisely.”
What a prick! But I realize my irritation is the reaction he wants when the slightest hint of a smirk graces his lips. He’s egging me on, trying to get me to dislike him. But I’m not really sure why.
Just before I suggest he get a magazine subscription to ‘Geriatric and Loving It’, the stairs appear. Milling around the first floor with his hands in his pockets, is my newest and only friend. At least, I think he’s my friend.
“Harlow!” I rush down the stairs and stop five feet in front of him as he smiles down at me. “What are you doing here?”
He shrugs. “I thought I’d take you to meet Riven.” I can tell, by the way he’s looking at me, that he’s happy to see me. And I’m happy to see him. Really happy. In fact, I want to embrace him, and I slip my arm through the other strap of my pack-back purse so I can do so without impediment.
He’s just as cute as I remember. Only this time, he’s wearing ripped jeans, a black shirt under his leather jacket, and he holds up his neoprene glove-covered hands as if to say I’m all his.
I move forward and give my friend a hug.
He groans like he hasn’t embraced anyone in a long time. And when his arms come around me, he pushes me to his chest, holding me as tightly as he can.
“Sleep well?” he whispers into my ear.
I hear the count clear his throat and suddenly remember he’s there. I pull away from Harlow with an apologetic smile and then tell my heart to calm down. Harlow’s just… he’s just…
“Please do tell us what you are doing here, Mr. Loveless.” The count gracefully slides down each step. The air in the room turns cold—colder than dew in the morning. The angry chill emanating off him seeps into my bones.
“Didn’t you hear me?” Harlow asks Jean-Claude with a glare. “I came to take Everly to Riven.”
“As Everly is my ward,” Jean-Claude begins and I glare at him.
“I’m not your ward.”
He nods and clears his throat again. “As Everly is my… guest, I had taken it upon myself to accompany her.”
“Well, change of plans,” Harlow answers.
“No change of plans.” The count glides to us, using his six-foot-three height to sneer over Harlow, who is shorter by three inches or so.
Harlow grabs my wrist and pushes me behind him like I’m in danger from the vampire, and haven’t just spent an entire night here, during which the count could have sucked me dry. The thought only just occurs to me. Geez, I am naïve.
Fangs lower over the count’s lips. “I have her well in hand.”
Jeez, the way they’re talking about me, I sound like I’m a piece of property—not a person. But I swallow my pride. More anger and hostility won’t diffuse this situation. Their words are said with mocking civility, but I know differently. Within a heartbeat, this situation could go from fake politeness to claws, teeth and blood.
“Riven asked me to keep an eye out for her,” Harlow says.
“Let us not kid ourselves, Loveless,” Jean-Claude responds with an icy laugh. “The only reason you are here is because you’re taken with her.”
“The reason I’m here is to take her to Riven,” Harlow growls.
“And yet I can smell your desire. And I can see the way you look at her,” Jean-Claude argues.
“Stop,” I say and they both look at me like I’ve grown another head. “The solution is obvious.”
“Is it?” Jean-Claude asks.
“It is?” Harlow asks at the same time.
I nod. “Yeah, both of you can take me to the headmaster so I can explain that this whole thing was a mistake and I really should be headed to Arcadia.”
Neither one of them says anything. Before they can argue something different, I stomp off, like I know where I’m going. I don’t, but the front door is open, and it’s better to keep moving when two growling dogs are gearing up to attack. All I know is the only person who is going to be able to help me is Riven, so outside I go.
When I walk through the doors, I’m lost again. I could go left or I could go right.
Both my self-appointed guardians scowl at me.
“Where do we go from here?” I ask.
“I can fly you.” Harlow
