Looking down either side of the dimly lit corridor, she was surprised to see this wing was much smaller than the one she’d been put in on the other side of Castle Death. She counted four rooms down the right hallway and two on the left. It was utterly silent as if no one lived up here at all. But then why didn’t he want her up here?
She was about to find out.
Deciding to head right first, she chose the last of the four doors. As quietly as possible, she turned the door handle. It made a metal screeching sound, she whipped her head around to see if the doors would fly open and hideous gargoyles would fly out and eat her, or maybe just one cold vampire. Nothing happened though except her heart running a marathon in her chest.
The room was pitch black. She squinted and made out the faint outline of a closed off bedroom. Even the window had a sheet over it to keep out the light, and dust had long settled on the wood furniture, floor, and bed like dirty snow. Aside from the barren furniture and unmade bed, the room was empty. She closed the door then hopped to the door across the hall. This one opened easily.
She blinked twice at what she saw. A small bed, free of dust and dirt. Bedsheets pulled up just to the pillow where it was then folded in a neat, straight line. A bookshelf shorter than her with four rows held slender, small books in between small wooden figurines. The figurines looked old and hand carved. A horse, a warrior with his sword drawn, and a castle.
A small chest rested against the far wall under a window with white lace veils hanging over it. The chest was painted red with a golden circle on the front and some unrecognizable symbol in the middle. A bird? It was hard to tell, the image was old, the wood cracked, and the paint peeling. She took a step closer, squinting, and a horrible realization hit her. He wore the same bird etched into his skin. Except this bird was faded black, with a beak that was once yellow but now was dull and decaying. She didn’t know what this all meant, but a sickening feeling filled her gut.
Somehow she managed to close the door then move to the next room. It was empty and
closed off like the first, completely dark, and covered with dust. Then she stopped at the next.
Her hand actually shook as she reached for the door handle. Letting out a shuddering breath she turned the handle and opened the door.
Pain and confusion hit her quick. A woman’s bedroom. Old paintings stood on the wall with a man and a woman holding a baby. She recognized the man, though in this painting he hadn’t yet received the jagged scar he now wore across his cheek. He actually wore a faint smile; he looked relaxed, almost happy. She swallowed hard and quickly closed the door, feeling like she was intruding on someone else’s life.
“What are you doing here?”
Chloe yelped and spun around, but it was neither the face nor the voice she thought it’d be.
It was a woman. A beautiful woman with classical looks. Her face was devoid of makeup but that did nothing to detract from her beauty. She was simple like an old female statue from Greece, yet completely stunning. Her hair was a rich black, heavy, and thick looking. It was twisted in a simple braid that rested on her shoulder and fell down to her stomach.
The woman smiled at Chloe, concern bracketing her gentle golden brown eyes. She wore a white gown that reminded Chloe of the Victorian Age or something equally old-fashioned. It was tight along the breasts and pushed them up high and out. Yet the rest of the gown was almost a mockery of sexy. It fell wide to her feet nearly covering all of her slippered feet. The sleeves of her dress were cuffed around her delicate shoulders and looked like velvet.
A thousand questions raged through Chloe’s mind. “Who the hell are you?”
Of all the way she could have handled the situation, she probably didn’t choose the wisest. But dammit she was freaking the fuck out. Who was this woman? Was she his? Was she his wife? But the woman in the painting had blonde hair. Was this the child all grown up? But then why was there a baby room that looked like it hadn’t been touched in ages?
The woman’s slightly tilted eyes raised high. “I am Lucinda.” She bowed her head
gracefully.
“Chloe,” she replied, her mind working furiously.
“I know,” the woman said.
Chloe narrowed her gaze on her. “How do you know that?”
She smiled with her little pouty pink mouth. “Commander Tyrian informed me of your
arrival. I was hoping to meet you at some point, though not like this. Are you aware that you are not supposed to be up here?”
Chloe couldn’t keep from frowning. The woman was nice, even acted genuinely
concerned and here she was thinking of all the ways she could be related to her new vampire boyfriend. There, she’d finally thought it. She was hooked on Tyrian en Kulev, Commander of the Atal Warriors—the most badass group of warriors in the world.
He made her heart race, her mind addled, and her body heat like a growing fire. She wanted to know everything about him. She wanted to melt that ice he held so tightly wrapped around him, but first... Chloe narrowed her eyes on Ms. Pretty—she had to figure out who she was.
“Yeah, he told me I wasn’t supposed to come here. Hence why I’m here.”
Lucinda tossed her head back and laughed. She quickly covered the surprisingly rich, not-so-delicate laugh with her hand.
“You’ll be good for him, I think. He needs someone to push him. Someone who won’t
tire and back away, or run from his temper.”
Chloe puffed with pride inside. “I honestly haven’t seen him angry.”
“Commander Tyrian grows more and more resolute, impassive even, the angrier he gets, and I must admit,” Lucinda whispered stepping close to grab one of Chloe’s hands, “he’s been in a tiff lately. At first I thought it was because of the whole demon problem that you started, but now I know it’s because of you. ” Chloe decided to wait to decide if that was an insult or not.
“What demon thing? You mean what happened at the cemetery? How do you know about
that?” Oh my God was he posting tweets and Facebook posts about her every move or
something?
“No, no. I’m friends with Draven you see. He told me about the demon you and your
sisters summoned before he went to get you. In the meantime, Tyrian has sent warriors out to find this demon and kill it, but they’ve had no luck in finding it. It has proven quite elusive.” She was talking fast and excited now; even her cheeks were turning pink.
“So at first I thought he was simply getting frustrated with whole situation. But now that I’ve met you, I can see it’s you that has him bothered. How delightfully wicked,” she said, clapping her hands together.
Chloe opened her mouth then shut it. Twice. She could easily see this woman hanging out with her and her sisters on party night every weekend. Though maybe not in that dress. She’d definitely need a pair of jeans and a tight tank top, too.
“Wait, who are you? Why are you here? Are you one of the warrior’s mates?” Chloe lit up with an idea, remembering the way her cheeks had blushed at the mention of the warrior Draven. “It’s Draven, right? He is handsome. Is he yours?” The woman’s smile dropped and she stood back a step.
“No, of course not. The warrior and I are only friends, not even that really. I just talk to him on occasion.”
“Oh my, I know that look. That’s lust, Lucinda. Have you tried going after him?” The woman’s eyes grew wide.
“Never! No, I couldn’t possibly. Ever. It would be completely inappropriate.”