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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

ISOLDE

Opening my eyes, I stare at the ceiling.

Day number three.

Three days of being out of the castle and into the frying pan that is SilverGate,

Three days of not knowing why.

Three days of pretending to be something I’m not.

Three days where I’ve hooked up with not one guy but two in front of a ghost.

Three days of being picked on and fought over.

Three days of irregular mealtimes that is pissing me off and making me hangry.

Three fucking days.

Heaving a savage sigh, I throw the enchanted covers back and slap my feet to the floor in a huff. Rising, I look around and see William hovering by the mirror. “Morning,” I snap .

He raises a ghostly eyebrow. “Bad night?”

“Fuck off. You know as well as I do what a shitshow this is.”

“That’s one way to put it. You are a very sought-after creature.”

“You say that like it doesn’t surprise you.”

“It doesn’t. Not after what you told me. These creatures must sense something about you.”

“Well, they can sense all they like. I need to know. I’m going to the restricted section today before classes. After some fucking blood.”

“Okay.”

“That’s it? Okay?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know. Something helpful and encouraging.”

“I’ve told you all I know. You are very angry this morning.”

“Wrong, I’m hungry.”

“Then go feed.” He narrows his eyes and purses his lips. “I would offer, but you know. Can’t.”

We stare at each other for a few long seconds. “I’m sorry I’m moody,” I say eventually. “All of this is getting to me.”

“I understand.”

“You are too kind to let me off so easily.”

“Not really. Kind was never something said about me. ”

“So you were unkind?”

“I was at SilverGate for a reason, Isolde. Do you think kind, generous beings are welcome here?”

“So you were a badass, is that what you were saying?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say I killed anyone for a woman…”

“Don’t remind me,” I groan.

“I can talk you through it one more time, but honestly, it’s not going to help you.”

“Skip the third step, second door on the right, Guardian,” I check off on my fingers.

“Pretty much sums it up.”

“You don’t talk like you lived a hundred years ago.”

“I adapt. It’s a trait.”

“Oh-kay,” I say slowly. “I’m starting to learn things about you. Chameleon… not many creatures have that ability.”

He smiles slowly, and it’s kinda sexy.

Dammit! Why am I now drooling over a ghost?

“No?” I press. “You’re not going to tell me?”

“Not yet. You haven’t worked for the knowledge.”

“Right. I see that mean streak.”

“You appear to like a mean streak.”

I consider that for a moment. He’s not wrong. “I’m going to shower.”

He bows slightly and I stalk past him, wondering why I’m not more bothered about him being a voyeur to my recent sexcapades.

Closing the door behind me, I turn on the shower and slip the thin straps of the nightgown off my shoulders. It slithers to the floor, and my nipples pucker as the temperature drops in the room despite the steamy shower.

Turning my head slightly to the side, I murmur, “Like what you see?”

He doesn’t reply straight away, forcing me to turn around to make sure he is actually there.

He’s there, his ghostly form shimmering at the bathroom threshold, his eyes travelling over my naked body with undisguised hunger.

“I may be dead, but I’m not blind,” William finally says, his voice deeper than usual. “You’re magnificent, Isolde.”

I don’t cover myself, surprisingly comfortable under his spectral gaze. “You’re quite bold for someone who claims to be from a more gentlemanly era.”

“The early 1900s weren’t as prudish as history books would have you believe,” he replies with a wicked smile. “Besides, death tends to strip away pretence.”

Steam curls around me as I step into the shower, letting the hot water cascade over my skin. I close my eyes, trying to sort through the tangled mess of emotions and desires that have overtaken my life since arriving at SilverGate.

“You’re conflicted,” William observes.

“Wouldn’t you be?” I call back, working shampoo through my hair. “I’ve gone from total isolation to the centre of an insane love triangle in three days. And that’s not even counting whatever mysterious danger is supposedly hunting me.”

“Quadrangle, technically,” William corrects. “Unless you’re not counting me.”

I pause, my hands stilling in my hair as he floats into the shower with me. “Are you saying you’re interested in me that way, William?”

“I’m saying that if I were corporeal, I’d have you pressed up against these tiles, my hands exploring every inch of you until you were begging me to take you.”

His words send a shiver through me that has nothing to do with the water temperature. There’s an intensity in his transparent eyes that makes my pulse quicken.

“That’s quite forward of you,” I manage, rinsing the shampoo from my hair.

“Death brings clarity,” he says, his form shimmering as steam passes through him. “I spent a century watching life happen around me, unable to participate. I won’t waste words now that someone can finally hear me.”

I study him through the curtain of water, this beautiful, tragic man trapped between worlds. “What would you do?” I find myself asking. “If you could touch me?”

His expression darkens with desire. “I’d start with your neck,” he murmurs, hovering closer and reaching out. His ghostly touch is nothing more than a cool brush of air. “Trace the curve of it with my fingertips, feel your pulse beneath my lips. I’d follow the water droplets down your collarbone, between your breasts...”

My breath catches as his ghostly hand hovers over my skin, the air cooling wherever he almost touches. It’s maddening, this phantom caress that I can sense but not feel.

“Quite an image you present.”

He moves in even closer. I shiver from the cold as he brushes his lips over mine. “Sex is one of life’s most pleasurable pastimes. In death, it is torture.”

“I wouldn’t know,” I murmur. “About life.”

“So the vampire was correct in his assumption. You are a virgin, Isolde?”

I nod, not even a bit embarrassed.

“What a shame I can’t claim that, be the first. It would be an honour to take your innocence.”

“You are making it very difficult to be mad at you.”

“Why would you be mad at me?”

“You are intruding on my shower and seeing me naked when I didn’t say you could.”

“I think we are past that, Isolde. You are quite comfortable with making me watch your interactions with your men.”

“Not intentionally. You can’t leave this room.”

He smiles and reaches up to cup my face, only his touch isn’t there. “It’s the cruellest part of my existence,” he whispers, his form flickering slightly with emotion. “To see, to want, but never to touch.”

I close my eyes, imagining what his touch might feel like if he were alive. Warm or cool, gentle or possessive. When I open them again, his gaze is fixed on my face with an intensity that makes my heart race, but he has moved back as far as he can.

“I should let you finish your shower,” he says, but doesn’t move.

“You should,” I agree, reaching for the soap. “But you won’t, will you?”

His ghostly smile turns wicked. “Would you truly want me to?”

I consider his question as I lather my body, deliberately slow, watching his eyes follow my movements. “No,” I admit finally.

The flash of hunger in his eyes sends my arousal spiking. I drop my hand between my legs and slide my fingers over my clit.

“Don’t,” he croaks, his gaze fixed on my hand. “Please, Isolde.”

“I’m imagining your touch,” I murmur, knowing I should stop, but I can’t. I’m lost in this moment, in the heat in his eyes.

He darts up close to me again, his hands moving over the surface of my skin, chilling me. “You are playing with fire,” he growls.

“I wish you could touch me,” I murmur, pinching my clit and twisting it a little so I cry out.

“Are you thinking about me?” he murmurs, his voice soft again.

“Yes,” I pant, circling my clit as it goes slippery with need.

“Close your eyes.”

I do as he says, and again I feel the chilled air hovering over my skin.

My lips tingle. It feels like frost has descended on them. I open my eyes and gasp.

William’s lips are on mine.

“I can feel you. I can feel the pressure,” I mumble against his mouth.

He shoots back over to the other side of the shower, a look on his face that is a cross between desire and anger. “Don’t lie.”

“I’m not,” I stammer as the hot water runs cooler and then turns to blood. I squeal and duck out from under the spray of crimson liquid. “Are you doing that?”

He doesn’t answer.

When I look at him frantically, his face has gone dark, twisted, malevolent. “Don’t lie,” he hisses.

“I didn’t, William,” I say calmly. “I felt your lips on mine.”

“No!” he roars and then vanishes from my sight, taking the blood water with him.

It returns to normal and shaking, I step under it to wash off the blood, my stomach protesting with hunger.

Finishing up quickly and getting dressed in a black shirt, black pants and boots, I pull on CJ’s jacket and damn the consequences. “I’m going now,” I say to William, even though he is nowhere to be seen. “We can talk about this later when you calm down. I accept that lying is a trigger for you and that, under these circumstances, I can see why you are so angry. But I felt you, William Harrington, and I know you felt me too.”

No answer.

Leaving my bedroom, I make my way to the dining hall to grab two cups of blood before heading to the library.

Luckily, I don’t run into any of the guys, or my brother, or anyone who wants to hurt me. I simply march up to the blood dispenser, grab my cups, and head out, one in each hand. I gulp back the first cup hungrily and bin it, before taking my time with the second cup, savouring the taste.

The library is quiet this early. Finishing the second cup, discarding it, I stride purposefully toward the eastern corner, my eyes scanning for the third bookcase William mentioned. The massive shelves tower above me, each packed with ancient tomes whose spines bear titles in languages I can’t even identify.

I find the eastern corner and count the bookcases. One, two, three. The third bookcase stands slightly apart from the others, its dark wood polished to a dull gleam by centuries of hands. My fingers trail along the spines as I search for ‘Transmutation of Ethereal Entities.’

Spotting it, I look over my shoulder to see if there is anyone around. The thick volume is bound in midnight blue leather, the silver lettering slightly tarnished with age.

Reaching out, I jump a fucking mile when CJ says, “What are you doing, my sweet?”

“Looking for a book,” I snap, irritated to be disturbed. I turn around to see him and Cassiel standing side-by-side and narrow my eyes, “What are you two doing here? Looking all not about to kill each other.”

“We’ve come to a temporary truce,” CJ says, his eyes never leaving mine. “For your benefit, of course.”

“How thoughtful,” I drawl. “And what exactly does this truce entail?”

Cassiel’s gaze is innocent enough, but I know the beast that lurks under the surface. “We’ve agreed to let you make your own choices. Without interference.”

“Gee, how thoughtful of you.”

“Very,” CJ says seriously.

“Unbelievable,” I mutter. “Well, look, thanks and all that, but I’ve got homework to do.” I stare at them, expecting them to disperse. When they don’t, I sigh sharply. “Run along.”

CJ looks marginally surprised by my demand. “I think we’ll stay. Whatever you are up to, it’s not homework, and you are probably headed into a mountain of trouble.”

“What makes you say that?”

“It seems to follow you around,” Cassiel replies.

“Oh, how cute. You are now ganging up on me. Well, fuck you both.”

“Me first, then you can have him. I’m taking what’s mine, my sweet, whether you consent to it or not.”

“You keep threatening that, and yet I don’t see you acting on it.”

His eyes darken. “You want me to?”

“Why not? It’s not like it isn’t going to happen anyway.”

“Issy, this isn’t like you. What’s happened?” he asks, moving in closer .

“Nothing,” I snap. “And you don’t really know me, so how do you know this isn’t like me?”

“Isolde,” Cassiel says, his voice gentle but firm, “your energy is different. Disturbed.”

I glance between them, suddenly feeling cornered.

“Look, I’m fine. I need to find something in the library. It’s personal.”

“We can help you,” Cassiel offers.

“No need.”

“Issy,” CJ says in exasperation. “Stop being so stubborn.”

“Says you.”

He growls and moves in front of me in a flash, slamming his hand to the bookcase, making me flinch. “What is going on with you?”

“Nothing,” I say quietly. “I just don’t want to feel the need to explain myself to you. I’m free now. I want to be free.” His presence is stifling, and I feel my lungs closing.

He sees me struggling and moves back a fraction before cupping my face. “Let me help you,” he murmurs. “You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

The tenderness in his voice nearly undoes me. For a moment, I want to give in, to confess everything about what I am, about William, the restricted section, my desperate need to understand what I am and why I’m being hunted. But something holds me back.

“That’s just it,” I whisper, meeting his gaze. “I’ve been surrounded by people my entire life who claimed to be helping me, protecting me. Look where that got me.”

CJ’s thumb traces my cheekbone, his touch gentler than anyone would expect from such a predatory creature. “I’m not them.”

“No, you’re something else entirely,” I agree, glancing at Cassiel, who watches us with that unnerving focus. “You both are.”

I step away from CJ’s touch, needing space to think clearly. The book is right there, just inches from my fingertips. So close to answers.

“Whatever you’re looking for,” Cassiel says, his wings shifting slightly behind him, “we can find it together.”

“And why would you help me?” I challenge, crossing my arms. “What’s in it for you?”

CJ’s smile is slow and dangerous. “The pleasure of your company, of course.”

I scoff, but there’s no real heat in it.

“I am curious,” Cassiel admits, moving closer.

“What a surprise. Look, I can’t tell you. It’s a secret and one that my life depends on, okay.”

“What?” CJ snaps, suddenly back to the fierce protector. “What does that mean?”

“Exactly how it sounds. I can’t tell you.”

“Oh, no,” he says, shaking his head. “Now you will tell us, Isolde. ”

“Can’t you just go away and leave me in peace?” I say desperately, knowing it’s futile.

“Not going to happen,” CJ states, planting his feet and crossing his arms. Cassiel matches his pose, and I roll my eyes.

“You two are so much alike, it’s infuriating,” I hiss and turn to yank the book out of its spot. The bookcase creaks and then swings inward, revealing a dark passageway behind it. The musty scent of ancient stone and forgotten magic billows out, making me sneeze.

“A secret passage,” CJ mutters, peering into the darkness. “Nice work, my sweet. You would do well at Ponte.”

“Where?” I ask.

He smirks. “My family castle.”

“A secret passage,” Cassiel observes, his face flushed slightly with excitement. “How fascinating.”

I glance between them and the passage, knowing my opportunity for a solo mission just vanished. “Fine. Since you’re both here and clearly not leaving, you might as well make yourselves useful.”

“Always happy to serve,” CJ drawls, his eyes gleaming with curiosity and something darker. “Where exactly are we going, my sweet?”

“The restricted section,” I admit, stepping into the passage. “William told me how to get there. ”

“William?” Cassiel questions, following close behind me.

“The ghost in my room,” I explain, not looking back. “He died here a century ago and knows his way around.”

The bookcase closes behind us, plunging us into darkness. My vampire sight kicks in, and I look around at the gloomy tunnel. Cassiel’s eyes have changed colour, turning silver in the pitch black. “Pretty,” I murmur, reaching up to cup his face. “Your eyes have turned silver.”

He blinks. “Oh.”

“You trust this ghost?” CJ asks, his voice echoing slightly in the narrow passage.

“More than I trust either of you right now,” I retort, though it’s not entirely true. William’s strange behaviour in the shower has left me unsettled. He is clearly more of a malevolent force than he is letting on.

The passage slopes downward, the stone steps worn smooth by centuries of secret traffic. I count them silently, remembering William’s warning. One, two...

“Step over the third step,” I mutter. “It’s an alarm.”

“An alarm for who, exactly?” CJ asks.

“Blackridge, I assume,” I reply, carefully lifting my leg to step over the trap. “William wasn’t specific.”

Cassiel follows my lead. CJ comes last, his movements predatory and alert, eyes scanning every shadow as if expecting an ambush.

The air grows colder as we descend, heavy with the weight of centuries and forgotten magic. After what feels like an eternity of spiralling downward, the passage opens into a circular chamber exactly as William described.

Five identical doors line the curved wall, each made of dark wood bound with iron. Ancient symbols are carved into their surfaces, glowing faintly with dormant power.

“Second door on the right,” I murmur, moving toward it.

“Wait,” CJ says, his voice low and commanding. He steps in front of me, nostrils flaring as he scents the air. “Something’s not right.”

Cassiel moves to my other side, his wings extending slightly in a protective gesture. “He’s correct. There’s a presence here.”

I glance between them, frustrated by the delay but grateful for their caution. “William mentioned a guardian. Something that takes the form of your greatest fear or desire.”

“Ah,” CJ says with a grim smile. “Clever defence mechanism. Very old school.”

I study the five doors, each identical yet somehow distinct in the energy they emit. “How do we get past it? ”

“We don’t engage,” Cassiel says, his wings shifting nervously. “Guardians that manifest fears or desires are designed to trap you in your own mind. The more you fight, the deeper you sink.”

CJ nods, surprising me with his agreement. “The angel’s right. The trick is to acknowledge what you see without giving it power over you.”

“Easier said than done,” I mutter, stepping toward the second door. The moment my fingertips brush the ancient wood, the air around us grows thick, syrupy with magic.

The chamber blurs, reality folding in on itself like wet paper. When it settles, I’m no longer in the circular room with CJ and Cassiel. I’m back in my family’s castle, in the locked tower room where I spent my whole life. The familiar stone walls close in, suffocating me.

“No,” I whisper, panic rising in my throat. “Not this again.”