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The answer felt as far away as Kaleb.
I sighed.
A knock came at the door, loud but patient. I knew who it was.
Von’s onyx eyes peered down at me as I opened the door. His arm draped over the arched doorway, his large frame consuming it completely. He wore his hair loose, the long black strands trailing over his shoulders.He dressed in casual clothes—a fitted, black tunic that hugged his muscled torso with a wide, tattoo-exposing neckline.
He offered me that unparalleled grin, full of swagger and charm and something primal—something dangerous.
“Yes?” I asked. It came out softer, more inviting than I had intended. I cursed my traitorous tongue, cursed the wildness he wore and how it called to me.
His smile slipped. His fingers, warm and gentle, tipped my chin upwards, his eyes narrowing. “Who did this to you?” His voice was calm, but the flash in his midnight eyes reflected something else entirely. I wondered if something dark did indeed lurk inside.
He is a means to an end. Her words chattered in my mind.
I hugged my arms around myself, caging the fabric to my frame. “I think we need to talk, Von.”
He did not disagree.
“One moment.” I closed the door and traded my towel for the white cotton robe that hung on the back of the door. After, I joined him in the small seating area by the large bay window that overlooked Belamour. Two tufted chairs, ivory in color, sat on either side of the window, looking towards it. A round end table between them.
A few of the books I picked out from the mansion’s library were stacked together, sitting on top of the end table, just waiting to be read. The one titledThe Six Curseswas of particular interest as I needed to learn more about my Dream Curse. The other two were for my own gluttonous needs—hopefully filled with smut and morally gray males.
I sat in one of the chairs, and although it fit me just fine, Von’s body dwarfed his. As if his personality didn’t take up enough space, his size ensured it. His arm draped over the arm of the chair, those ringed, tattooed fingers ticking rhythmically like a big cat’s tail swishing from side to side. He looked at me, all dark and handsome and broody, his question still standing.
I had nothing to gain with a lie, so I served him the truth. “I took a stroll around the bathhouse today. I met your sister.” I gestured to the bruises on my neck. “She was so happy to meet me that she gave me this gorgeous necklace. She seemslovely.”
His fingers quit ticking.
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. The way he looked right now—there was nothing human about it, and that scared me. But it wasn’t fear for my life. Its roots were deeper than that but no matter how hard I tried, I could not figure out what it was.
As if he noted the shift in my mood, his expression changed, a carefully honed mask slipping back into place. He inclined his head. “What did she say to you?”
“She warned me to stay away from you.” I paused, debating if I should continue or if I should hold some of my cards. I decided to wait, to see what he would say.
“She’s not wrong.”
Well then . . .
I swallowed his confirmation down, licked my lipstick-stained lips, and continued, “She said she refused to help you with something. What did you ask her for help with?”
“I asked for her help in locating an item,” he replied, his answer given without hesitation, and yet something about it still felt calculated—I could tell by the way he leisurely surveyed me. Regardless of the lazy, rolling gaze, there was an intensity written in the depths of those onyx eyes.
“What item?” I pressed on, my leg crossing over the other one. My robe fell to the side, exposing a healthy peek of my thigh. I left it like that—just to toy with him.
Von noticed—I could tell by the direction of his gaze and the tick in his jaw. He tilted his head and returned his eyes to mine. He held me there. Steady. “The Crown of Thorns.”
“The Crown of Thorns?” I did a poor job of hiding my surprise at this, the wide setting of my eyes stating as much. I sloughed it off. “Why do you want it?”
His large hand rubbed his jaw, metal rings catching the dim firelight. “Because it is dangerous and needs to be disposed of. It nearly claimed Ryker’s life.”
“I thought it couldn’t be destroyed—that not even the Endless Mist would take it?” At least, that’s what Ryker had told me.
“For it to be destroyed, it must be returned to the place where it was created.”
“Where was it created?” I asked, leaning forward.
“Such a curious little kitten,” Von’s bourbon tone teased. “It was forged in the Spirit Realm.”
