Page 4 of Entwined
He hated the connection Vaelor had cemented between us, especially knowing it meant there was no way that I’d ever be accepted within my family’s political circles. I could never follow in his footsteps, taking the shifter seat on the Paranormal Council, and fighting for our family’s legacy—not if I had a warlock attached to my side.
Still, he kept me close, reluctantly accepting that there was no separating me and Vaelor. The only reason we were even at Bartholomew together, despite Vaelor being two years older, was because I’d refused to attend if he weren’t at my side. My family had been forced to pay his tuition on top of mine, and my father had been furious about it.
I’d compounded on that, fucking with every single plan he’d had for me when I blackmailed him into signing a deal with Frederick Hamilton—one where the Thorntons backed Frederick’s campaign for the human seat on the council. I told my father that unless it happened, I’d go public with every dirty deed he’d ever done in the shadows of the political world. My father sat on the Paranormal Council, but there was no way he’d keep his seat if I letloose every piece of evidence I had collected throughout the years.
Hamilton hadn’t had any problem throwing his granddaughter away like a prized cow at an auction, but it had taken two long years before he and my father had agreed on any terms. It left me wondering if maybe my father had been fucking with me on purpose, knowing how much it hurt to have my materight there, and be unable to claim her.
“You need to go for a run,” Vaelor observes, his eyes gleaming with amusement. I clench my hands into fists, fighting the urge to send one sailing straight into his smug face.
“Did her grandfather agree to the match?” I ask instead, pacing the length of the tower, fighting the urge to shift.
“He knows he won’t get the votes for the human seat on the council if he doesn’t give up Felicity,” Vaelor murmurs back. “Your family has some use after all.”
I huff out a sound of amusement through my nose. “They might despise you, but their ambition and greed far outweigh their hatred.”
Vaelor tips his chin in agreement, returning his focus back out the window. “She made it to her dorm,” he announces. “Some girl helped her in the end. Ann something.”
“Annette,” I mumble back, too keyed up to really care as I do another loop of the room. “When do we claim her?” My wolf adds his growl to the question, the sound rumbling loudly throughout the room.
Vaelor doesn’t turn from the window. “Halloween. There’s a party that night out in the woods.”
“You sound like you have a plan.”
There’s a still pause, his eyes firmly fixedoutside, before he exhales heavily, and I know she’s finally disappeared from sight.
Warlocks don’t have fated mates, not like shifters do, but the soul-bind has affected Vaelor in ways we never could’ve predicted. And the bastard might pretend to be unaffected, like he’s made of stone, but Vaelor isn’t a gargoyle, and we both know it.
He is just as obsessed as I am.
“I do,” he says, turning to face me. “At the party, she’ll be distracted, unaware. You’ll approach her, and I’ll slip this in her drink.” He pulls a vial out of his pocket, the liquid shimmering a violet purple.
My eyes narrow, danger rising like a bubbling pool of lava in my blood. “What’s the last option?”
Vaelor’s eyes are glinting with sinister intent as he lifts a hand, rubbing an inked finger over his bottom lip. “Half the fun is the surprise, Connor.” He tucks the vial away again, sending me a devilish smirk. “You’ll have to wait and see.”
CHAPTER THREE
felicity
Isettle into the hard-backed chair of the lecture hall for Comparative Political Legacies, tapping the tip of my pencil against the desk in front of me. The professor—some wizened old fart in a gray pea coat—drones on and on about the importance of bloodlines and dynasties, and how those families helped form the Paranormal Council—the same council my grandfather is gunning for the human seat on.
I fight back a yawn, letting his voice fade into an irritable buzz, flying in one ear and out the other.
I’m not sure why, but I expected it would be harder to settle back into the routine of things than it is. IthoughtI would miss Dizzy, that I’d be miserable, and hate how my family continues to see me as nothing but a commodity to increase their social standing and political power.
But it all just feels the same.
My days are filled with lectures and monotony, leaving me drained and listless, wishing I was anywhere else. All the other students have been giving me awide berth, acting like if they breathe too closely to me, they’ll be the next ones pulled from the school.
Honestly, it all feels just like it did before Dizzy, so I guess it shouldn’t be such a shock.
The only break from the overwhelming gray scale of it all has been the feeling of someone watching me. I’m not sure how much of it is paranoia, but I canfeeltheir gaze fixed on me, the skin on the back of my neck warming, each hair standing on end.
Sometimes, I’ll turn and look, searching the dimly lit hallways. But there’s never anybody there except dense shadows that refuse to give up their secrets.
Every time it happens, I can’t help but think of the warlock with the golden eyes. Even a week later, I can still hear the echo of his low voice rumbling in my ear, that icy touch stroking over my back.
He’s a stranger, so I don’t get why I’m so certain he’s the one watching me. It sounds crazy, but itfeelslike him. Yet, whenever I whirl around to catch him in the act, he’s never there. Instead, there are only shifting shadows—murky and deep, like they’re concealing hidden truths.