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“How can you not know if you’re hungry or not?”

“My stomach is in knots,” I told him honestly. “That’s the only thing I can feel in my belly right now.”

His hand dropped from his face as he crossed his arms over his chest. His arms were covered in freckles. They were cute.

“Do you want to see the house?” he asked me.

I nodded, enthusiastically.

“This way,” he said as he turned and walked away.

“Do you really think the Council would take me away from here against my will?” I asked quietly as I followed close behind him.

My eyes took in as much of his house as I could as I followed him.

The front door opened into a small, mud room. The walls were painted a warm, inviting gray. The walls were empty, no shelves, no hooks for hanging up your coat, nothing decorative at all. Two pairs of shoes were on the floor, pressed up against the wall. Guys flip-flops, black with thick gray straps. And black, lace up the front ass kicking boots. I needed a pair of boots like that in my life.

He talked as he walked.

“Honestly,” he said, “they aren’t as scary as all that. What happened with Marcus’s sister was not a normal happenstance. I agree that it was a horrible, tragic thing to have happened, but it’s not like the Council killed her. Quint shouldn’t have made it out to sound like that.”

He paused inside a cozy living room, giving me time to take in the sights. The walls in this room were painted the same gray of the mud room. A fireplace with a black, marble mantle had a fire blazing brightly in it. In front of the fire place sat a black couch, covered in orange toss pillows with a bright orange ottoman in front of it. The hardwood floor was sadly devoid of rugs, but I thought it could use some. A large, flat screen television had been mounted above the fireplace and was currently off. Black shelving ran around the entire room, r

ight below the ceiling. It was stuffed to bursting with both movies and books. The walls in here were bare as well.

When I had seen it all, I looked to him, hoping the expression on my face told him that I wanted him to continue with his speech about the Council.

He didn’t disappoint.

“They didn’t take her from her home thinking they would cause her any harm. They took her out of there thinking they were helping her. Marcus’s dad was not entirely right in the head. I mean, who has a child and hides them away from the whole world? That’s crazy.”

I followed him out of the cozy living room as he kept talking.

“She was messed up in the head from being sheltered and hidden away like that. Hell, Ariel, her own brother wasn’t even allowed to breathe a word of his sister’s existence. It must have been some serious threat that kept him from speaking up about her. Can you imagine?”

I shuddered at the thought. Yeah, I actually could imagine the kind of threat that would keep a person from speaking out.

Dash didn’t point out what room we were standing in for this tour. He simply kept on with his story, pausing long enough in each room for me to take everything in.

The more he talked, the more I relaxed around him.

The room after the living room was the dining room. Same gray paint. Same hardwood floor with no rugs in sight. The table surprised me. It looked antique. It was huge, dark wood, and I counted ten heavy looking chairs. Four chairs on each side, one on each end. The walls were barren in this room as well.

“When girls are born, and it’s determined they have magic, in our world that’s a reason to celebrate, a reason to throw a party. And the Council wouldn’t have taken her away from her parents, they don’t do that if your parents have magic. And, in some cases they will leave you with the parent who doesn’t have magic if something unfortunate should happen to the other one. That’s what happened with me. My mother petitioned the Council to keep me after my father died. Anyways, if you have a girl and she has magic, your entire family gets treated like royalty. They would have wanted for nothing.”

I followed him out of the room after he noticed I had stopped looking around and had been ready to continue on with the tour.

The dining room lead to the kitchen.

“This is my favorite room in the whole house,” he told me shyly.

I wasn’t entirely sure why.

The appliances were black and nothing special. The counter top on the small island was wood, butchers block. The rest of the countertop was white tile. The walls in here were painted a dark red. A small, circular kitchen table had been shoved into a corner with three chairs pushed into it. The table sat in front of a sliding glass door. Light gray curtains hung around the door.

I found myself shrugging, I didn’t get why this would be anyone’s favorite room.

“Only memory I have of my dad is of him sitting at that table, drinking a cup of coffee.”