Page 20 of Enchantra (Wicked Games #2)

19

TWO TRUTHS

Rowin’s hands snapped out to steady her, his gaze darkening as it snagged on the deep scratches and streaks of blood on her arms from the thorns.

“We need to get you inside, now ,” he muttered.

Before Genevieve could process what he was doing, he had her scooped up in his arms, cradling her against his chest as he carried her up the steps. He paused at the front doors, one of which was slightly ajar.

“The ring, it’s not warm, is it?” he asked under his breath.

When she shook her head, he used the toe of his boot to gracefully pry open the door he left cracked and cautiously carried her into the house. His eyes flicked over every inch of the empty foyer as he hastily made his way to his bedroom—where Umbra was patiently waiting for his return atop the bed. He set Genevieve back on her feet before softly shutting the door, though she noticed he didn’t bother with the lock.

“C-carrying me around like a damsssel in distressss for our audience, how ch-charming,” she stammered between numb lips, the chattering of her teeth dulling her sarcasm.

“I told you to wait for me,” he reprimanded, ignoring her look of annoyance. “Though I realize trying to give you a direction was very optimistic.”

“I did w-wait for you! You n-never showed! Do you think I ssshould have risked getting caught out in the open?” she huffed, rubbing her hands over her bare arms for heat.

“So your brilliant idea was to hide in the snow ?” he asked.

“I f-figured no one would look for me there, and it worked well enough, didn’t it?” she said.

“You’re blue,” Rowin noted unhelpfully. “And I’m not sure it’s your color.”

“F-fuck y-you,” she stuttered.

A corner of his mouth curled up for a moment before he turned to wave a hand at the rest of the room. “By the way, I do not appreciate the state you and Ellin left my room in. I’m not sure how this is even possible. I left you alone in here for less than a day, and you were sleeping for most of that time.”

The room was littered with an explosion of her things. Hairpins, brushes, and scented oils were taking up the entire surface of the dresser. Articles of her clothing were strewn everywhere, undergarments hanging off the bedposts, corset ribbons pooled on the ground next to a pile of her shoes. There was also a lipstick stain on the carpet she’d tried her best to scrub out before she went down for the masquerade.

“It’s not that bad,” she defended herself. “My room at home is much worse. At least you can still see your floor.”

“For Hell’s sake,” he muttered.

“If you’re only going to complain for the rest of the night, I’d rather go back to freezing to death,” she grumbled. “And where were you?”

How could you leave me for Grave to find alone?

“There was something I had to take care of before Knox did a final sweep of the house for any lingering guests. I didn’t think it would take as long as it did,” was all he revealed as he headed for the bathroom, gesturing with his hand for her to follow. “I’ve spent the last hour looking for you, but I never considered you’d be outside trying to catch hypothermia. But when I saw Grave go out there, I figured I should check. I’m impressed you managed to evade him.”

“It was a close call,” she admitted as she followed him into his en suite. “But your ring helped, so I suppose I should take back what I said about it being hideous. Even though it is.”

He gave her a withering look.

“Speaking of Grave—what the Hell does this version of the game entail? Is the Hunting Blade the only weapon Grave can use to kill us? Shouldn’t we be finding a less obvious spot than your bedroom to be hiding in right now? How have you managed to win for the last fifteen years if this is your strategy?”

She realized now that in all the fuss and frustration of preparing for their damned wedding, she had barely prepared herself for the Hunt.

“Breathe, Genevieve,” he told her as he slid aside a pocket door within the pristine white bathroom to reveal a linen closet.

She stuck her tongue out at him. Then took a breath.

“Roaming rooms is Grave’s favorite version of the game. Every four hours we’ll be forced to switch the room we are hiding in. That’s three mandatory changes during his turn. And staying hidden during the changes can be difficult.” He handed her the folded stacks of towels that were piled at the bottom of the closet. “And the Hunting Blade is the only thing that can truly kill us in the game, yes. Though we can certainly all slow each other down however we’d like—breaking necks, slitting throats. Stabbing your opponent through the heart as quickly as possible is the best way to get a safe kill, but the spectators vastly prefer when things are a bit more…dramatic.”

Genevieve ducked down to watch as he began pressing his fingertips along the wall at the back of the closet.

“And my room might be too obvious a hiding spot, yes, but the room next door won’t be.”

His words trailed off as he slid the panel of the wall to the side to reveal an opening to another bathroom. Umbra dashed through without hesitation.

He waved for Genevieve to go next, and she tried not to groan. She was not ready to shove herself into any more tight spaces. Her Specter abilities usually enabled her to avoid such circumstances, and the idea of struggling to wedge herself into another tiny passage right now made her stomach churn with dread.

Taking a deep breath, she knelt on the ground and began to crawl through the little hole. The jagged edges of the hole scraped painfully against the fresh wounds on her arms, and the bulky skirts of her dress hindered her as she wiggled her way through to the other side.

She felt her face heat as she stood and straightened herself out, not wanting to think about how ridiculous she must have looked. When she turned, however, the sight of Rowin trying to wedge his broad shoulders through the narrow space made her press a hand to her mouth to suppress a giggle.

He huffed in frustration as he flipped onto his back to place his hands against the wall and shove himself out. Like her, he was probably used to relying on his magic to avoid these sorts of situations. Truthfully, she couldn’t believe he’d actually managed to make it through at all. Grave or Covin certainly wouldn’t have been able to.

As Rowin covered up the secret passage, she wondered, “Whose bathroom are we in now?”

“Grave’s,” he answered.

She balked. “Are you out of your mind?”

“If we had tried to enter his bedroom from the hallway, we would have found two things,” Rowin began, as he stalked over to the mirrored vanity to begin covering it with towels. “One, that it’s locked. And two, the door is rigged with a particularly nasty trap.”

“I’m assuming he is not aware of your little homemade entrance into his room?” Genevieve asked as Rowin led her toward the bathroom’s exit.

“Correct,” he answered.

“I’m surprised you and Remi don’t have rooms next to each other. I was sort of hoping I’d get to see his.”

Rowin paused in front of the bathroom door, lifting a brow. “Because?”

She shrugged. “It fascinates me that you have the same face and yet don’t seem to be very…close? Plus, I wanted to see if he also has a rigid system for organizing his socks and underwear. Length, then color, then type of material, right?”

He glowered. “You went through my things?”

“I got distracted while I was doing my makeup for the masquerade,” she confirmed cheerily.

“Remi and I are very different,” he said. “Which reminds me—what is it that he said to upset you while you were dancing?”

“I’m surprised you even noticed I may have been upset,” she admitted.

He gave her an odd look. “Why?”

Because despite always being surrounded by people, very few ever paid such close attention to me.

But she didn’t say that aloud. Instead, she answered, “He said that he pitied me. That I was like a mouse in a trap. And I am tired of being referred to as a rodent. Also of pity from men who don’t really care what happens to me. Who just think of me as a pretty girl someone else should rescue. And I say someone else because they never actually want to put in the effort of saving me.”

Rowin was quiet for a long moment.

Then, “Saving you from what? Yourself? Because you seem to be able to hold your own.”

Her breath hitched as his words hit a nerve she hadn’t expected him to find. She was absolutely her own worst enemy. Every bit of danger she’d ever been in was a tangled web of her own creation. She didn’t like how easily he’d figured that out.

“Is that what you were doing when you stopped things earlier?” she needled. “Saving me from myself? The passion fruit had no effect on you whatsoever?”

“I think it was very clear the effect it had on me,” he told her, his voice deepening now.

She crossed her arms. “Because you would have never touched me otherwise?”

He gave her a taunting smile. “Is there a specific response you’re looking for from me, Genevieve?” A step forward. “No strings attached. Wasn’t that what we both agreed?”

She scowled. “It was.”

He didn’t look as if he believed her, but he didn’t press any further. She watched in silence as he turned back to the exit and cautiously opened the door, poking his head into the room to make sure it was clear. The layout of Grave’s room was nearly identical to Rowin’s, with the single exception of the bed being a much more normal size. Everything in the room was painted black—even the furniture. No wonder the man was so unhappy. The darkness of the space was suffocating . The only thing that helped it feel a little less like a coffin were two mirrors propped against the wall facing the bed. Rowin fetched more towels and promptly covered them.

Genevieve moved to the doorway, searching for the trap he had mentioned before. Sure enough, there were two black chains attached to the top of the door that ran along the ceiling toward the opposite side of the room. The chains were rigged to pull taut when the door was opened in order to yank up a metal panel that faced the doorway. She couldn’t see what the panel covered, but she could only imagine it was meant to maim whoever entered.

She rolled her eyes. Dramatic.

“Warm up,” Rowin ordered, pointing at the bed. “You’re still too pale.”

Genevieve didn’t bother to argue as she sat back against the headboard and pulled the comforter tightly around her. The relief was instant. A violent shiver racked her body as she realized exactly how cold she’d been.

Rowin settled himself into the large armchair in the corner of the room, reaching back to fold his arms behind his head as he let his eyes fall closed without another word.

After a long minute of silence, she asked, “Now we just…wait?”

“This would be the hiding part of the game, so yes.”

A beat.

“For nearly three more hours?” she confirmed.

Without discussing anything that happened between us? Am I just supposed to forget that we almost … ?

“Correct,” he stated. Another beat.

“That’s forever ,” she complained.

He sighed deeply. “You wouldn’t handle being an immortal very well.”

Only minutes ago she was being hunted for her life, and now she found herself…bored. It was an unsettling feeling. Perhaps Rowin had grown used to it, but the constant push and pull of emotions in this house was making Genevieve antsy. She needed to be distracted.

“Why don’t we play a game?” she suggested.

His eyes blinked open. “We’re already playing a game.”

She gave him an exasperated look. “I meant one that doesn’t involve murder .”

“That sounds dull,” he told her. “But fine. What’s the game?”

“Two truths and a lie?” she proposed. “I used to play it with my friends back home, and since you and I are supposed to be convincing partners…”

“Rules?”

“We each have to state three outrageous things—two of them true, one a lie—and then figure out what the lies are,” she explained.

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” he allowed. “Since we’re building trust with each other. Right?”

“Your words,” she agreed.

They both took a moment to figure out what three things to say, the only sound in the room coming from Umbra bathing herself like a house cat. It made Genevieve miss Poe and Grimm Manor.

“Alright. I’ve got mine,” Rowin announced.

She motioned for him to go ahead.

“Sevin and I accidentally officiated a wedding for a Demon marrying nineteen brides at once. I’ve never fucked anyone in my own bedroom. And the last time I traveled further than Florence was fifteen years ago.”

She frowned. The first one was ridiculous enough to easily be true. But the last two…

“The second one has to be the lie,” she eventually decided. “No way you have a bed that size and haven’t used it.”

He shrugged. “Wrong.”

“ What? ”

“The bed in my room used to be Covin’s before he upgraded to something even bigger. I don’t like strangers in my personal space, so I’ve always taken my lovers…elsewhere,” he admitted. “You’re the first person I’ve allowed to stay in my bed in recent memory.”

“Ah, the privileges of being a wife,” she crooned.

He didn’t smile, but she swore he wanted to.

“You’re seriously telling me you have all the wealth and time anyone could ever want, and you haven’t left this part of the country in fifteen years ? You win freedom every time you play this game, and you don’t use it to travel as much as possible? To escape this place?”

“It doesn’t seem fair,” Rowin murmured. “To enjoy all the things the others can’t.”

“You do care that your winning streak has kept them in Hell for so long, then,” she stated.

His eyes locked with hers. “Of course I do.”

She felt the truth in his words.

You’re either going to collect another win and we won’t ever see you again, or your winning streak will come to an end, and you’ll finally get a taste of Hell with the rest of our sorry asses , Covin had said, but Genevieve was starting to suspect there was a lot more to Rowin’s desire to win than anyone understood.

Silence stretched between them for a while, though Genevieve didn’t necessarily find it to be uncomfortable. Only thoughtful.

When it became too much, however, she found herself blurting, “I just thought that the only real reason to own a bed that size was in order to host orgies.”

He huffed a laugh. “Well, you weren’t wrong, but multiple lovers is Covin’s thing, not mine.”

So she had seen.

“Alright,” he prompted. “Your turn.”