A knock sounded and she went to the bedroom door, flinging it open with a smile. Brayden looked at her for about half a second before his gaze flicked away.
“Let’s go. I don’t want to be late.”
Then he turned and strode down the hall.
Say what? That was it?
If he thought he could make her come like that then pretend it never happened, he had another think coming. Fuming, she stomped after him to the SUV. Neither of them said a word as he drove off. She cast scathing looks his way, all the way to the gated manor of King Brunes’ estate.
She glanced at the clock and saw it’d been nearly forty minutes since he’d knocked on her door and they took off for Brunes’. He put the car in park as an older valet man with thinning black hair strode toward the car. As Brayden’s hand curled around the door handle, she grabbed his arm to stop him. He looked back at her and the rant she’d been about to drill into him derailed like a runaway train.
“What happened at the house...that was a game changer. There is no going back,” he said.
Whoa, her breath caught in her throat and her chest suddenly felt really tight and uncomfortable because his gaze radiated with searing hunger.
“Okay,” she said.
Then he got out of the car as if he hadn’t just rocked her world upside down.
The valet managed to get to her door before she did and opened it for her, his head bowed, eyes trained on the ground. Brayden’s hard steps crunched against the black asphalt driveway as he came around the door, grabbed her hand, and tugged her to the front door.
She whistled low under breath. King Brunes had a home to fit his name. The mansion reeked of wealth. From the lavish fountain in front of the house that had a cherub with a bow across its back spurt water from his fist held in a circle around its mouth, to the utter size of the house. The house had to have at least ten bedrooms, possible more and probably just as many bathrooms. It was set back in the woods with a great expanse of vivid green grass, cut neat and short, around it. Brayden took her to the front door and knocked.
A few seconds later, the door was opened by a butler actually wearing a black suit with a white shirt underneath—everything looked ironed. For some reason, that surprised. He looked like he came right out of a movie. Then her gaze went to look inside the house and her eyes widened. Rich. King Brunes had to be rich. Rich as in everything looked very expensive and thereby very breakable. From the antique mahogany-looking hutch and side tables inside the foyer, to the rustic paintings of landscapes and people in finery on the walls.
“King Brunes is expecting you. Right this way, sir,” the old man said just as slowly as he moved.
She passed over a plush maroon rug with dangling fringe on the ends and her feet actually sunk into its softness. A twitchy feeling came over her and she scratched at her arm as they followed the butler down a long corridor complete with real old-looking floors, more art on the walls, and glass shelves with what had to be antique pieces of art. There was an old-looking pistol in a velvet-lined case, a sword with an arched blade and shiny metal handle with leather wrapped over the middle and leafy engravings in the metal. It looks like something a Calvary officer used in the Civil War. All she could think as she eyed all this stuff was that Sarina had lived here. Sweet, caring, free-loving Sarina. No wonder she’d wanted out. Everything felt stifling, like walking through a museum.
They came into another room, a large sitting room or maybe a study. The room made the living room she’d had at Joseph’s look tiny in comparison, and very, very poor. There sat an assortment of chairs, from leather that were fit for taller people than her, and several sofas with coarse-looking fabric in deep brown and a dull yellow. Though it certainly wasn’t yellow from fading with time, but it’d meant to be that color and it actually fit in well with the masculine, if not stuffy, design of the room.
A man stood from behind an expansive desk and smiled. He had long blond hair, nearly to his wait, and he wore what reminded her of a robe-style shirt that billowed around his wrists and stopped mid-thigh with matching baggy pants. Brayden released her hand to clasp King Brunes’ and Vanessa fidgeted at the loss, finally crossing her arms. She felt weird in this place, naked and way out of place in her jeans and red T-shirt.
“Justicar Brayden, good to have you here.” He waved a long-fingered hand toward the furniture. “Please, take a seat.” King Brunes folded his tall form into a chair and crossed his leg in a feminine way. He wore a cat’s smile and rested his elbow on his bent knee, his chin on his hand.
Brayden tugged her onto a seat next to him and Brunes’ gaze flicked to her as if just realizing she stood there. “Who’s this?”
“This is Vanessa K---”
She quickly spoke over him. “Vanessa Harrington.” God, she hated saying his name, especially combined with hers. Brayden didn’t look at her, but she felt from the way he stiffened that maybe he, too, forgot she’d had to take Joseph’s name when they mated.
“Is she a Justicar, too?” he asked Brayden.
Vanessa stiffened, her eyebrows rising high. She wondered if she imagined it or if he really did just speak around her when Brayden answered.
“No, she’s here in an unofficial capacity.”
King Brunes’ seemed to smile bigger. “Then, you’ll understand that I wish for this conversation to be...private.”
Brayden didn’t look happy, but nodded. He turned to her. “Wait outside the room for me.”
Her stomach danced like snakes had taken up residence, twisting and writhing her nerves into one big mess. She didn’t want to leave his side and she really didn’t want to be in this house alone, but she nodded and left. The butler waited in the hallway as if he’d known she’d be kicked out. He closed the door after her, then left her there.
She stood in the quiet hallway, unable to even hear the voices in the room, and couldn’t stand it another minute. Charging forward, she opened the front door and didn’t take a deep breath until she spotted their car parked in a small lot on the side of the house. Valet parking, she thought and laughed.
For such a big house, there was a definite emptiness. So much space, yet she didn’t see anyone else except the valet and butler inside. How could one person live in such a large house by himself? What rubbish. She crossed to the car, then stopped dead in her tracks.
Her heart started beating wildly in her chest like it was trying to break out. Her body turned cold and when her eyes started to burn from the wind blowing, she blinked then slammed her eyes back open again. No, no, it couldn’t be. She stepped closer to the car, to the item dangling from the passenger-side door handle. She stopped within fifteen feet, confirmed that it was what she thought, then started backward, her gaze scanning the outlying area.
Her heart wouldn’t slow down. Her back hit the hard scratchy brickwork of the house and she didn’t stop scanning the forest. Sweep after sweep, her panic didn’t die even as no faces appeared. She darted looks all around and started scooting sideways to the front door. Then a branch snapped. Her whole body froze as her gaze swung fast to the trees more than fifty feet behind the car. Her hands quickly patted down her pants pocket, then she stopped and almost sobbed. She didn’t bring her pocketknife. How could she be so stupid? With a final look at the mating bond, the joining of her and Joseph’s hair and clothing hanging like a tattered rag from the door handle, she turned and fled inside.
Brayden listened to King Brunes’ retelling of the night his wife died. He stated the same thing down to an exact T as he’d written in his report to the Justicars the day they’d found her body. That didn’t surprise him; he’d expected that much.