Page 27 of Their Lethal Pet

I frown, not following. “That can’t be true. I haven’t met any of them.”

“You don’t have to meet them to impress them,” he says, threading his arm with mine and starting toward the door again. “But you’re tonight’s prize. So thank you, Ms. Everheart. You have no idea what your sacrifice means to me. I hope, in turn, your future mate or mates give you everything you’ve ever wanted and more.”

With that bizarre statement, he opens the door and we’re met by two Protectors dressed in their trademark hoods.

The smiles and amusement no longer exist in the Duke’s expression, his hard features set in a way that tells me any further comments will be met with a sharp reply.

It’s almost like he’s two people.

A father and a Duke,I think, still frowning at him.And what did he mean bymates? Like more than one monster?

While he described them as, uh, sort of enticing, I guess, I… I don’t want a single mate, let alonemultiplemates.

“Your Grace,” one of the Protectors says, the voice sending an immediate chill down my spine. “Would you like us to take her to the landing platform?”

That’s Threat. After hearing his statements repeat in my dreams for hours, I know his tones all too well.

Except he was one of the lab coat men, not a Protector.

So why is he a Protector now?

Were all the men in lab coats actually Protectors?

It was hard to know for sure since they always cover their features when in uniform. But this Protector is definitelyThreat.

“No, I’ll walk her there, Timothy,” the Duke replies. “Then you and Protector Edvard can take over.”

Timothy,I think, not bothering to listen to his placating response.At least I was close with the T nickname.

Duke Nightingale is quiet as he escorts me down the long train hallway, past numerous doors and seating areas, until we finally enter the room I first met him in.

But he doesn’t stop there.

Instead, he continues past it to the door I entered a week ago. It’s open to reveal a marble-floored platform and another train across from ours.

Everything is white. Too white. Too pristine. Too clean. Including the walls and ceiling.

It’s like we’ve been teleported to another dimension, one painted in a solitary color.

The other two Offerings from my village stand waiting for me, their attires rivaling my own. Well, Bartholomew’soutfit is similar to the Duke’s vest and slacks combo, only Bartholomew also has on a jacket.

Miranda—the name of Offering Three, which I learned during our first day on board—has on a dress like mine. Except hers is maroon.

This is my first time seeing both of them since that fateful Day of the Choosing. I imagine they’ve shared experiences similar to mine over this last week.

Bartholomew’s light blue eyes find mine as I join them on the marbled platform just off the train. Everything about his gaze and expression says he’s bored, but I notice the slight clench of his jaw as he looks at where my arm is threaded through the Duke’s.

I’m not sure what that’s about. Maybe he thinks I’m receiving some sort of preferential treatment?

“The three of you represent the Nightingale family now,” the Duke says, his strange accent seeming a bit thicker. “It’s up to you to fulfill the Offering requirements to the best of your abilities.”

He slides his arm away from mine and slightly inclines his head in our direction.

“Thank you for your sacrifice,” he continues before straightening his spine. “May you take mates of the highest caliber and make our family proud.”

Turning, he faces a team of Protectors who have gathered just off the train.

“Lead them to their starting positions,” he instructs them before glancing at his pocket watch. “The portals will open in six-and-thirty minutes.” He meets my gaze once more. “Or, as the monsters prefer to say it, thirty-six minutes. Good luck.”