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“Do you lock your room at night?” she asks.

“Of course.”

“Then you have nothing to worry about.” She turns her back to me as she rifles through the cabinets.

She’s done speaking to me.

As I head back to my room, I get the same suspicion again—everyone here knows something I don’t.

20

KLAUS

Alaric sits across from me on the private jet.

We’re flying to New Orleans, Louisiana. A few days ago, I received a handwritten letter inviting me to the upcoming Resistance meeting. As an associate member, I only get invited to these events once or twice a year, so I know something important has come up.

I glance out of the window. It’s a gorgeous sunset, the clouds looking like orange and pink cotton candy.

But all I can see is her.

She’s stuck in my head like a favorite song. She showed me a world of new possibilities. She makes me long for things I never allowed myself to desire.

I can’t let myself have it, though.

If I cross that line, this obsession will devour me whole.

I almost gave in to temptation the other night. She was in my bed with her thighs spread open and her pussy wet for my cock. Her cheeks were the prettiest shade of pink I’ve ever seen.

It would have been so easy to give in. And I almost did.

“I don’t get it,” Alaric says.

I look up at him.I wait for him to finish his thought, but he just leaves it at that.

“What don’t you get?” I ask.

“You barely have a life outside of work,” he says. “Yet somehow, you always seem to have something on your mind. And when I ask you about it, you refuse to share anything.”

“It’s called being an introvert, Alaric,” I say.

He scoffs. “Please. I’ve known you all your life. I can tell when something’s bothering you.”

“Yeah, something is bothering me,” I say. “It’s you.”

“Fine. Be that way.” He opens a packet of chocolate-covered almonds and pops a few into his mouth. “One day, I’m going to have something juicy going on in my life, but I’ll be all elusive and mysterious when you ask about it.”

“You couldn’t be mysterious even if your life depended on it.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he says. “But that’s just because I’m a good friend. You can ask me about anything in my life, and I’ll give you a proper answer.”

“Really?” I ask.

“Really,” he answers.

“Anything?”

“Yep.”