2
Settling In
Iwoke up in a bed that belonged in a period drama.
Four posts of dark, carved wood rose toward a ceiling painted with faded constellations. Burgundy velvet curtains hung from the canopy, half-drawn to let in the pale morning light filtering through tall, arched windows. The sheets beneath me were silk—actual silk, the kind that costs more than my monthly grocery budget—and I was wearing a nightgown I didn't recognize, soft and white and probably worth a small fortune.
For a long, disorienting moment, I had no idea where I was. Then the memories crashed back: the forest, the chanting, the knife at my throat, the amber eyes burning into mine. The werewolf. The vampire. The demon and the witch. The manor that rose from the woods like a Gothic fever dream.
Aggressively adopted.
I groaned and pressed my face into the pillow. It smelled like lavender and something else—something smoky and dark, like the scent that had clung to Lucien's skin when he'd pinnedme against the tree. My body remembered that proximity with embarrassing clarity: the heat of him, the rough timbre of his voice, the way my pulse had raced under the blade's edge.
You like the knife. You like the danger.
His words echoed in my skull, and I felt my cheeks flame. He'd smelled my arousal.Smelledit. Like some kind of supernatural bloodhound who could read my body's traitorous responses before my brain had even processed them.
"That's fine," I muttered to the empty room, throwing back the covers. "That's totally fine and normal and not at all humiliating."
The nightgown fell to my ankles as I stood, and I caught my reflection in a gilded mirror across the room. I looked... surprisingly alive, given the circumstances. My purple-streaked hair was a rat's nest of tangles, and there was a faint bruise forming on my chin from where I'd face-planted in the clearing, but my eyes were bright and my cheeks were flushed with color. I looked like a woman who'd survived a near-death experience and was weirdly thrilled about it.
Because Iwasweirdly thrilled about it.
Beneath the fear and the confusion and the absolute insanity of my situation, something electric was humming in my veins. I'd stumbled into a world that shouldn't exist—a world of monsters and magic and dangerous, beautiful people who looked at me like I was either a threat or a curiosity or a snack. And instead of running, I'd booped a werewolf on the nose and demanded snacks.
Who even am I?
I found my tote bag on an antique chair by the window, its contents mostly intact. My phone was dead—no charger, no outlets I recognized—but my hairbrush was there, and I used it to wrestle my tangles into something resembling a messy bun. My clothes from last night were gone, replaced by a neat stackof garments on the dresser: black leggings, a soft gray sweater, underthings that looked brand new and actually fit.
Selene's doing, probably. The witch had a efficiency about her that was both comforting and deeply unsettling.
I dressed quickly, hyperaware of the silence pressing in around me. The manor was vast and old and filled with creatures who could probably hear my heartbeat from three rooms away. Every creak of the floorboards made me jump. Every shadow in the corner of my eye seemed to move.
Stop it, I told myself firmly.You're not going to be the scared little human who cowers in her room. You're going to be the chaotic little human who drives them all insane.
I squared my shoulders, opened the heavy oak door, and stepped into the hallway.
The corridor stretched in both directions, lined with portraits of stern-faced people in outdated clothing. Their eyes seemed to follow me as I walked, and I made a mental note to ask Selene if they were enchanted or if I was just being paranoid. Candles flickered in iron sconces along the walls—real candles, not electric ones, their flames dancing in a draft I couldn't feel. The carpet beneath my feet was thick and dark, muffling my footsteps.
I had no idea where I was going. The manor was a labyrinth of winding passages and unexpected staircases, and last night Selene had led me to my room so quickly I hadn't retained any of the route. But I could smell something—coffee, maybe, and something baking—and I followed my nose like the snack-motivated creature I was.
The hallway opened onto a gallery that overlooked the main foyer. I paused at the railing, looking down at the black-and-white marble floor, the sweeping staircase, the chandelier dripping with crystals that caught the morning light. It wasbreathtaking and terrifying in equal measure, like standing in the lobby of a very elegant funeral home.
Voices drifted up from somewhere below. I crept down the stairs, my hand sliding along the polished banister, and followed the sound to a door that stood slightly ajar. Warm light spilled through the crack, along with the unmistakable aroma of fresh coffee and baked goods.
I pushed the door open and found myself in a kitchen that looked like it belonged in a rustic Italian villa. Copper pots hung from a rack over a massive stone island. A wood-fired oven glowed in one corner, radiating heat. Bunches of dried herbs dangled from the ceiling, filling the air with the scent of rosemary and thyme. And standing at the counter, pouring steaming coffee into an earthenware mug, was Selene.
She looked up as I entered, and her face broke into a smile that was entirely too pleased to see me. "Lizzie, darling! You're awake. I was beginning to think you'd sleep through the day."
"What time is it?" I asked, my voice scratchy from disuse.
"Nearly noon. I had the kitchen prepare some breakfast for you—well, brunch, I suppose. Sit, sit." She gestured to a stool at the island, and I sank onto it gratefully. A plate appeared in front of me: flaky pastries, fresh fruit, something that looked like a quiche. My stomach growled loud enough to echo off the copper pots.
"Thank you," I managed, reaching for a pastry. It was still warm, the butter melting on my tongue. "This is... a lot. The room, the clothes, the food. You don't have to—"
"Nonsense." Selene waved a dismissive hand and settled onto the stool beside me, cradling her coffee. "You're our guest. We take care of our guests. Besides, I find you utterly delightful, and I'm hoping you'll let me teach you some basic magic once you're settled."
I choked on my pastry. "Magic? I can barely work my coffee maker."
