Dark Promise by Annika West

12

Ifollowed the scent of delicious food and dragged Willow roughly toward it. We stumbled through grand halls and mirrored rooms and indoor gardens, following the food.

Well, I stumbled.

Willow strode confidently forward, following the scent with her fancy vampire nose.

I considered going invisible into my other dimension, but the chances of me getting lost were really, really, really high.

We encountered members of the fae staff Adair had running the manor.

Colorful was the friendly way of putting it.

Did I flinch at the sight of a woman with tentacles for hands?

Maybe.

But she had a dish of something pastry-related, so she was my friend. It was rude for friends to flinch at one another’s tentacles, so I stole a pastry and begged her to tell me where the rest of the food was.

She curtseyed and introduced herself as Bella.

“Bella,” I gasped through a bite of flaky, buttery deliciousness in my mouth. “Don’t ever do that again. Do you know how much drool I have on my face when I wake up? I’m told it’s a large amount. I’m not a curtsey-deserving person, and I have no right to be. The food. Please…”

She widened her brown eyes. One tentacle wiggled to a door on the right. “Down that hall. Last door on the left.”

“Thank you!” I yanked Willow after me.

She wasn’t yelling at me, so I figured she was just as hungry.

We found the dining room.

I nearly keeled over with the pure shock of it.

Pastries. Cured meats. Eclairs and cream puffs. Cheese and fruit and weird shit I had zero name for.

This was a wet dream. It had to be. This was exactly something my subconscious would make up.

I was probably stuck in a sewer dungeon, and imagining this was likely my coping mechanism.

At the head of the table, Adair smiled in welcome. “Please, take a seat —”

I descended upon the table like a ravenous beast. No plate was safe from my clutches. No crumb or dusting of powdered sugar was spared.

I didn’t eat the entire table. It simply wasn’t possible in under five minutes. But I shoveled sugar into me until my stomach hurt, my head stopped throbbing, and my thinking cleared.

Finishing off the last of a weird spicy brownie that definitely didn’t have Earth-flavors, I sat.

Adair’s brows had to be permanently glued to his hairline. “I forgot what youth was like. Apologies for not feeding you properly before you slept.”

“Before you drugged me,” I corrected.

Willow was silent. She’d taken a seat while I attacked the food and was now giving me that wide-eyed shut the fuck up and let me do the talking look.

Which I ignored.

“Is that a bag from Annie’s Cake Pops?” I demanded, reaching for a brown pastry bag near my seat.

“Being a lord has its perks,” Adair admitted. “I sent one of my servants to your city. I’ve been told this is one of the places you frequent.”

I bit into a strawberry-frosted pop. Yup. It was legit. “You are so creepy.”

But he was already muttering softly to one of the servants beside him. The man nodded dutifully and left the room.

Adair turned back to me, looking effortless in his baby pink waistcoat. He had the audacity to put an orange shirt beneath.

Electric orange.

A shudder ran through me.

“I hope you slept well.”

“I didn’t exactly have a choice, did I?” I snapped. “You don’t just drug a newcomer. Very poor manners.”

“It was for the best, truly,” he said. “I didn’t want you to regret coming the moment you arrived. Plus, you seemed to be very high strung. Do mortals and immortals not partake in smoke and drink to calm themselves after a stressful day?”

“If they choose to,” I qualified. “Emphasis on choose.”

Willow was sitting quiet. Still. She was doing that super-frozen thing that only vampires could do. It was like she was a statue, and she stared at the flowery tablecloth like it was about to strangle her.

That’s when the Imposter Hux walked in.

Oz was chattering with the same servant Adair had sent out. The servant was looking at Oz with glassy, infatuated eyes.

Oz finished whatever he was saying and mussed the man’s cornsilk hair.

Then his eyes found us and brightened. “Look at that! You’re already here.”

He snatched the silver pitcher from the servant’s platter and loped around the table, dropping into the seat beside Willow.

She stared at him like a cornered animal as he poured a thick glass of blood for her.

“There you are!” he said.

And then, Oz did the impossible.

He reached out with his own flesh-and-blood fingers.

And mussed Willow’s hair.

The consequences were immediate.

Willow’s butterknife shot forward, hovering a hair in front of Oz’s bulging eyeball.

“Not a very touchy-feely person, are you?” he wheezed.

“No,” she agreed brusquely. Her crimson eyes were shiny with hatred.

The vampire stood, turned to Adair, and said, “My apologies. Thank you for the blood.” Then, she took the cup and pitcher and walked around the table, sitting in the seat furthest from Oz.

“What’s your deal?” I asked, reaching for the fruit next.

She bared her teeth at me. “I’m fine.”

“You’re clearly not.”

“I’m just…” she took a deep breath and gritted out, “hungry.”

“Oh! That makes sense. I understand that.”

Willow, for some reason, rolled her eyes and mumbled something unintelligible that was probably disrespectful in some way.

I couldn’t hear, but whatever she said made Oz snort a sip of coffee directly into his nose. He spent the next minute hacking out the liquid and struggling not to laugh.

I felt like I should be offended. But there was so much food, and only so many hours in the day to properly devour it all.

Adair watched us with an amused, airy expression as he nursed his tea from a rose-painted cup.

“So, Adair,” I started through my mouthful. “Why am I here? Really?”

Willow cleared her throat and opened her mouth to speak, but Adair beat her to it.

“Simple. Besides guiding you as the full extent of your power awakens, I only want one other thing. To free the halflings from wrongful enslavement.”

He said this with the right amount of solemnity.

But none of the sincerity.

“Really?” I asked, unconvinced.

“Yes. It’s unfair that they aren’t respected in Faery. I believe it is my duty to change their welfare.”

“Why?”

Confusion rippled across his expression. “Do you think they deserve harsh treatment simply because they are not fully fae?”

“No, I mean why do you think it’s your duty?” I clarified, shoving another pastry into my mouth. Sugar really did incredible things to my critical thinking.

I went on. “How long have Cuts, halflings, I mean, been treated like shit?”

“It has been since the portals have closed —”

“So why now?” I demanded. “You want me to think you’re all nice and giving, but you’re only just starting to push for this.”

I knew when I was being sold to.

And Adair had an ulterior motive up his sleeve.

He waited twenty-two years to contact me. Now, all of the sudden, he claimed he just wanted to train me and release the Cuts?

No. There was another reason.

And I was going to find out.