The sensation of a body appearing behind me is my indication to move, and just as Niyla attempts to grab my neck, I’m gone. “Noctis Duplicatus.” A shadow of myself steps beside me, and I roll my head around on my shoulders. “Don’t think for a fucking second you have an advantage because I am one person.”
“A damn Veilsidian,” Niyla murmurs. “Great…” Doesn’t sound so good to her, which pleases me. I know my kind are rare, and I’ve used this ability enough that it’s second nature to me.
“Stop.” Alaric rubs his hand around on his neck and looks at me. “Fine, that was a lie… but I’m here to help. Take it at face value. I want to get her back?—”
“Why?!” I shout. “Who the fuck is she to you, and I would choose your next words carefully,young man, because if it wasn’t clear before, I will sure as shit make it. She is mine.Mine. So tell me, who the fuck are youto her?”
The fact that he smiles pisses me off to no end. “Let me put it to you this way, Kairhyse,” he says, adjusting his shirt as he steps beside Niyla, as if she could shield him from me.
The upward slant of his eyes as he tilts his head down speaks of distrust and disgust, though I’m not sure why he’s directing it at me. It’s not like I barged intohislife.
“When we get her back, I’ll let her explain it.”
My little demon didn’t lie to me. If there was one thing about her, it was that she never hesitated to tell me the truth. Even if the truth was deadly and would hurt me, she’d say it. When I asked her who thismalewas, she only knew his name. If she had any inkling of who he truly was, she’d have told me. That much, I know.
“Kairhyse,” Brice says, stepping between us with his hands raised as if to defuse the tension. “This is tiresome, and we’re wasting time.”
I don’t hate Werewolves, but this one? This one, I despise.
“Does it matter why we’re here? You need the help now more than ever, because unfortunately for you, everyone is looking for you both.”
“Fuck you,” Sydni hisses. When I glance at her, her piercing red eyes are locked on Brice, throwing metaphorical daggers at him.
I want to disagree with him, but he’s right.
Niyla looks between me and my carbon copy. “Seems fun,” she says dryly, then points at Sydni. “She needs to feed. If she won’t feed off Brice, we need to get her some bagged blood.”
Fucking Vayl above. I drag my hands through my hair in frustration.
“You’ll need to cut your hair,” Niyla adds, now pointing at me. “And you might want to get rid of those tattoos.”
I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure I get my girl back. My hair will grow back, and I can retattoo my skin.
I’m so sorry, baby… Give me time. I’ll find you.
Chapter 3
Xeraphine
Sixteen years ago
The truth is, I don’t even know why I’m here. Staring at this black door set into a worn brick townhome, wedged between its neighbors, I’m utterly confused at myself.
My foster family is incredible, so why do I feel such a want to know my real parents? They left me on the front door of an orphanage when I was six—freaking six years old—who does that? I was just coming to learn the basics of being alive and socializing with the world. What had I done that justified them letting me go?
With a deep breath, I hesitate to knock. I’ve never been one to ignore my instincts, and something is telling me that this is wrong. However, I hadn’t spent over a year to find where my mother and father lived, to chicken out at the last possible second.
I’m far braver than that, so I knock softly, just under the peephole.
Adjusting my sunflower dress, I roll the straps, straightening them carefully. I smooth my hair, ensuring there are no flyaway strands, and then align my sun and moon earrings so they face forward. With one final breath, I stand as tall and straight as possible.
The patter of feet beyond the door makes my heart race. My fingers slip as my palms become clammy.Holy smokes, I’m so nervous.The urge to bounce around on the balls of my feet is so strong, I mentally chant,don’t bounce, don’t move, don’t fidget.
As the brass handle on the door turns, I roll my lips together and look up.
When the door slowly opens, the darkness beyond the woman standing before me makes bumps rise on my arms. She is a spitting image of me, and I can’t keep my mouth from opening. The only difference is that she is clearly older than I am. Matured and a woman—not a girl.
Her dark silver eyes look me up and down, her gaze stopping at what I think is my chest, but that can’t be right.
