Page 85 of Plug and Claim

Meanwhile, Nathaniel was back in his bedroom, waiting for her to return so he could plug her. They both knew it was inevitable.

How long would he wait?

All morning, I’ll bet.

Nathaniel’s office door was unlocked, just like last time. It was a bad sign as it implied there was nothing valuable or useful inside worth stealing.

It’s almost like he wants people to come here.

Calling it ‘the forbidden corridor’ was just the icing on the cake to ensure that people do exactly that.

The room was cold and eerie in the moonlight. Alone with no one to see her true wolf form, Kira felt safe to morph. Golden light flashed for several seconds as she transformed.

It felt good to finally stretch her muscles. Her human form was fine, but shifting into her most natural form was like easing her feet out of a pair of shoes she’d worn for several days straight.

Immediately, her sense of sight, sound and smell increased, and she prowled the room, seeing it with new eyes.

The tan-coloured pelts of the royal family hung up on the wall behind Nathaniel’s desk, their faces tortured and ghostly. The musty smell of death assaulted her senses. There was something else that irritated her, a faint whiff of something she hadn’t been able to identify until now.

With her snout pressed close to the floor, she soon confirmed the source of the strange smell: old trees, plants, and magic.

This was the last place she’d expected to smell nature. It wasn’t fresh, but it was alive like mould, as if magic had somehow preserved it. She dragged a pelt of a deceased wolf shifter aside with her teeth. Beneath it was another fur with the same bristly-grey fur.

No, not the same. Almost.

It reeked of magic, and she was convinced that it had never belonged to a real animal. It was an imitation of some kind. She searched the rest of the floor, unearthing more fake furs, putting them back the way she’d found them carefully to hide the evidence of her search. When she was done, she shifted back into human form and perched herself on the edge of Nathaniel’s desk, frowning.

Besides the top layer of wolf pelts—of which there were a significant number in the large room—the ones underneath were all fake. As if Nathaniel had wanted to exaggerate the number of wolves that had been killed.

She sniffed disdainfully. It was not a surprise. History was written by the winners, and the vampires made sure everyone knew of the Revolution. But what was surprising was that someone had crafted fake pelts that were so life-like.

If the witches were wiped out during the Revolution, who had been left to make them?

A brief hope flickered alight in her chest as she approached the tan-coloured pelts on the wall, stroking the dappled white spots. Could it be that the royal wolf family was still alive? Her hope was quickly extinguished: these pelts were very real. The King, the Queen, the cubs. Other relations—aunts and uncles, perhaps. She let her head rest against the wall in disappointment, her grief renewed.

Despite the surge of negative emotions, Kira was glad she’d come. Charade or not, the room was a reminder of a vampire prince who was as ruthless as his father. Nathaniel had created this room to flaunt the murder of her kin. It was something she had to remember.

She checked the desk and shelves but found no personal effects of Gloria’s. Nothing to indicate a long courtship, and it made her wonder if Nathaniel was serious about the relationship. Gloria didn’t seem to be, not if she kept rejecting him.

Didn’t she want to be the vampire queen?

Kira’s heart ached as she left the office. For a moment, she’d allowed herself to hope that Nathaniel wasn’t as bad as he seemed, and that his soul might be redeemable.

That maybe, he might actually care about her. But he only wanted to use her, and in all fairness, he’d never given her any indication otherwise. The person she’d hoped he was didn’t exist—it was a naïve illusion she’d concocted, and she was angry at herself for romanticising his actions.

Without realising it, she’d let him in, just enough to touch her heart. But he did not deserve a place there—he had not earned it, and he never would.

By the time Kira returned to the foyer, the stress had gotten to her. Her breathing was short and sharp, and she stopped to take a break. She stared out of the window at the black night, trying to calm her breathing. She had to get these emotions out of her system. Otherwise, she would fail. She had to be as cold and heartless as Nathaniel.

The large grandfather clock near her ticked the hours by, the darkness outside softening to grey.

Without knowing how, she knew Nathaniel was still waiting for her.

Let him wait.

Angry tears ran down her face as she stared at the gardens outside. The academy had once been wolf territory. Had it been a happy place? Had the royal cubs ever frolicked on the lush grass, picking clovers?

Volmasque was not the home of the royal family—Wintermaw Keep was—but perhaps the royals had visited here?