She furrowed her brow.
Trevor never knocked this early.
“What?” she snapped.
“I’ve brought you breakfast.” Trevor’s voice came from the other side of the door.
Holly’s brows shot up. He never knocked this early, and he never brought her breakfast.
“I’m not a breakfast person,” she called back.
“You didn’t eat your dinner last night,” he replied. “Or any night before that.”
“I’m not a dinner person.”
“Do you absorb nutrients through photosynthesis?” he asked. “That would explain why you never leave the window.”
“I never leave the window because I’m trying to calculate if I could survive the fall.”
She was only half-joking. She was only on the second story. The fall would suck. She’d probably break an arm or an ankle on the landing, but that was better than death.
How would she get anywhere on a broken ankle?
If she managed to escape, she’d be trekking through miles of rough woods. Even the trails weren’t for the faint of heart.
“Holly.” Trevor’s voice was clearer, closer.
She looked away from the window to find he’d let himself into her room. She didn’t hear the lock click or the door open.
In his hands, he carried a silver tray that could’ve been an antique. The tray was piled with biscuits, jam, butter, and two teacups.
Two.
“I only use one cup when I drink tea,” Holly said, turning back to the window. “And I don’t drink tea.”
“Then don’t. The tea is for me.”
“When did I invite you in?” she snapped.
“You didn’t, but this is my room, not yours.”
Holly looked around the room. Nothing about the lace runner on the dresser or the flowers on the curtains screamed Trevor.
“Your room?”
“Not mine, but I’m paying for it. I can come and go whenever I want.”
“Paying for it?” Holly’s brain whirled to life as she spoke. “Is this a bed and breakfast? You’re keeping me prisoner in a god damned bed and breakfast?”
“Technically, it’s a boutique inn,” Trevor said. “Mrs. Sanders thinks it sounds more high class.”
“She can’t be worried about class that much if she’s letting you rent a room.”
“You’re a real charmer; you know that?”
“Excuse me?” Holly sputtered. “I’ve watched you kill people and—”
“If you bring up the cage thing one more time…”
“You’ll what? Kidnap me? Oh, wait!” She barked out a hollow laugh.
“I didn’t kidnap you, and you know it,” he argued. “You agreed to come here.”
“To save someone’s life. I didn’t have a choice. You’re the bad guy here, Trevor. Somehow, you’ve convinced yourself otherwise, but I’m happy to give you a reminder as often as you need. You’re the bad guy.”
“You still think the world is so black and white?” he shot back. “What a thought. Wouldn’t it be so nice if every single action or thought we have could be filed into a ‘good box’ or a ‘bad box’? The world doesn’t fucking work that way. It’s never worked that way, and it never will.”
“And you use that as an excuse to hurt, kill, and kidnap,” Holly replied. “That doesn’t make you any less of a bad person even if the world isn’t black and white.”
“You’re so damn eager to put me into a category, yet you don’t know what you’re talking about at any given time,” he scoffed. “You don’t even know what you don’t know.”
“I don’t have to know everything to know you’re beyond help.”
Trevor went still.
Through her anger, Holly felt the smallest twinge of guilt.
The Maiden had little to say about Trevor when Holly could still hear her voice. In fact, she only said one thing.
He’s lost.
There was a time when Holly had pled for Trevor’s life on the word of his sister. She spent hours convincing the other firstborn males to capture Trevor unharmed.
Trevor’s sister, Elise, believed something was wrong with him. He wasn’t the brother she had grown up with.
“Here’s your breakfast. Eat it or not, I don’t care.”
Trevor set the tray down and started to walk away.
“Wait!” Holly blurted before she realized what she was doing. She hated his guts, that hadn’t changed. However, he was the only social interaction she was going to have all day.
“What? Do you feel like accusing me of something else? How about you accuse me of killing Pearl?”
Her expression soured.
“Leave my grandmother out of this.”
“Why? She set up all of this, didn’t she?” Trevor fired back.
“Set up all of what? All she did was leave me letters and instruct the others when and how to tell me about all of this shifter and Maiden bullshit.”
“You think that’s all she did?” he demanded.
“I know she had the gift of foresight. She saw all of this coming.”
“Did she mention me in her letters?”
“What?” Holly shook her head, trying to unscramble her thoughts. “Not that I remember. I don’t even know if I read all of them.”
“You didn’t.”
Trevor reached into his back pocket and pulled out an envelope, just like the ones that contained the other letters.
“How do you have that?”
“If I tell you, you’ll call me a liar.” Trevor tucked the envelope away and turned his back. “I’m not in the mood to be insulted anymore. Maybe I’ll tell you about it when you’re ready to be civil.”
“Civil?” Holly roared.
She was on her feet in an instant. She picked up the food tray and hurled it at Trevor’s back. He slammed the door just before he got a teacup to the back of the head. The tray smashed into the door and clattered to the ground sending jam, butter, and shards of pottery everywhere.
“I’m telling Mrs. Sanders you did that,” Trevor called through the door.
“I’m telling Mrs. Sanders you’re holding me against my will!” Holly screamed.
Trevor said
