Was it just because of McKinnon and his never-faltering sunshine? Or had I just witnessed the power of true love?
Either way, I was forced to be grateful for McKinnon.Annoying.
At the same time, bringing Luke to Shadowridge was my idea, and if not for that, they never would have met. Yep, full credit goes to me.
Of course, McKinnon found something with that key, and Luke insisted that I bring Ryan when I came to see what it was.
It’s a Saturday. We signed Ryan out of North Point, but the dean refused to let him off campus in his plain clothes just to be a dick. At least, that was the verdict when I spoke to Ryan via text, but now I see that my pal Kazimir was doing me a solid. Infinite aura farming vibes from that guy all around. I’m sending him a gift.
Ryan’s jaw-dropping in his full-dress military uniform. My heart races, dick throbbing. We might not make it to my uncle’sformer residence, now Luke’s island palace, as renamed by McKinnon, even though it’s not actually on an island.
“Stop it,” Ryan says, blushing as he gets into the passenger side. He pulls at the fingers of his white gloves, removing them.
“Are you allowed to do that?” I say, raising a brow. “I’ll be a North Point employee soon, gotta uphold policy.”
He throws the gloves at my face. “Fuck off, Tate.”
I catch one, bringing it to my nose, inhaling his scent. “You smell fucking good, baby. Summertime and sunscreen andmmm-hm.”
“C’mere, asshole.” He leans over, and I lean in to kiss him. Then we’re on the road.
McKinnon’s an overeager chipmunk when we get there, greeting us at the door. Luke has to pull him back from his.
“Let them in the door, princess,” Luke says.
McKinnon blushes.
They lead us to the far end of the property where Uncle Jasper had his tomb built. Yeah, an entire tomb for when he died, like he’s some kind of Egyptian pharaoh. It looks like a stone house from the outside, one tall enough to fit VanCourts. I’ve only been in it once, after Jasper died, but as I step in, everything feels familiar, as if the ghost of him has been living here all this time.
It’s colder inside than it is outside, the marble walls and floors having drained all the heat from the space. Rain taps softly against the stained-glass windows that still cast soft washes of tinted color across the room in the places where the muted light hits them. Dark veins of black twist through the white marble like old scars. Gilded accents trace carved arches and columns. Gold candelabras line the walls, the candles with charred wicks standing like worn soldiers, waiting to be lit again.
Old scents linger in the air. The mildew, the papery smell of dust, and I swear to fucking god, I detect his nauseating cologne. I’ve officially lost it.
At the far end is where the old bastard was laid to rest, under a statue of himself in an elevated sarcophagus. There’s a loud crack of thunder overhead, followed by a brilliant burst of lightning.
Mood.
“What are we doing here, McKinnon?” I snap. I don’t like this place, and I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to. Memories bleed into my brain, tar-like goo threatening to bury me.
Ryan takes my hand, squeezing it. I squeeze back.
“Watch this,” Ace says. McKinnon slides a panel near the edge of the sarcophagus aside and inserts the key. There’s a suspicious rumble, and the floor slides open, revealing stairs that lead underground.
“We are not fucking going down there,” Ryan says.
“Why, Savage? You scared?” McKinnon taunts, heading down the first.
“No.” Ryan releases my hand, chasing after him, even though he’s definitely scared. After what his father did to him, he doesn’t like small, dark places. Or being tied up. Neither do I, but now, because of fucking McKinnon, he’s goaded my husband into heading down there, and I’m going to have to go after him.
Because where he goes, I go.
Luke laughs.
“Not funny.”
“It’s a little funny,” he says.
Underground is an extension of the tomb, all paved with the dark-veined white marble. Did someone have to come down here to clean this shit? Thank fuck there’s electricity. But it’s still spooky as hell.
