Page 28

Chapter 27

Rolf

I t wasn’t so much a castle as a run-down palatial estate tucked against the side of a cliff. The sea crashed on the chalky white rocks, and the mist grabbed the stone foundation, white fingers clawing, trying to drag it out to sea.

Rolf perched in a tree, the rough bark snagging on his clothes, his hands covered in sap, and watched. His decades as a fur trapper meant he could sit up in this tree for hours, still as stone, and observe. He blended into his surroundings effortlessly since the ancient forest that surrounded the estate was dense with overgrown flora. Every so often, the wind carried the mist over the edge and doused him in cool brine. But he would not move.

Not until he was sure he had a plan. With only one way in and a few deadly ways out, the estate was easy to defend.But harder to infiltrate.

In his human form and alone, Rolf knew there was little he could do since the estate was full of deadly creatures. There was a time when something like this would have scared him, but with Adeline in their hands again, he would stop at nothing to get her back. He did, however, wish he had a militia to back him up.

Ours , his wolf growled.

Well, that’s a first, Rolf thought. His wolf was communicating with him now, even after the full moon?

As the sun rose higher, the vampires stayed inside. There was no movement outside the castle, nothing to indicate it was even inhabited. Gray clouds filled the sky, and the scent of rain carried on the wind. Rolf shifted his position on the branch, trying to keep the feeling in his legs.

A tiny flicker of candlelight shone in a window in the uppermost tower, and Rolf perked up. He watched it move until it disappeared somewhere in the bowels of the structure. As he was trying to find the candlelight again, he saw a small wooden door the size of a large dog, nestled underneath the outer wall. It opened up to the precipice, where the waves just barely grazed the stone foundation a few yards below.

As he watched the door, exhaustion pulled on his body. He reached into his bag, grabbed a rope, and threw it around the tree trunk, tying himself against it lest he nod off and fall from the branch. He searched a few more times for the candle in any of the windows, but eventually his eyes grew heavy.

Adeline cried out, calling his name as flames roared behind her.

“You left me!” she screamed, pointing at him. Her neck split, blood poured forth, and the flames enveloped her.

“No!” He tried to run to her, but he was stuck, his arms straining to reach her.

A screech jolted him awake. The rope dug into his chest, and for a moment, he thought he was being held down, until he shook away his lethargy.

He tried to find the source of the noise, but only a Merlin falcon soared above him, hunting, its feathers blending into the late-afternoon sky. He rubbed his face, cursing at himself that he had fallen asleep, and scanned the forest, finally relaxing when he realized he was still hidden.

He untied the rope, stuffed it back into his bag, and readied for the climb down. He carried only a few weapons with him—his trusty axe, a few silver-tipped knives, some wooden stakes—and hoped they would be enough as he strapped a few holsters to his belt and into his boots.

Once sure that he had hidden the weapons well enough on his body, he stashed his bag underneath some bushes. Rolf kept to the shadows so he could slip easily behind a tree without being noticed. The closer he got to the castle, the more irritated he became. The thought of having Adeline so near, but still out of reach, sent his wolf into a frenzy inside his chest. It growled, grumbled, unable to be patient. But it would have to be, because he couldn’t risk acting on impulse.

Rolf stayed low, crawling on his hands and knees underneath the ferns and shrubs at the cliff’s edge until he was close enough to see the door from his vantage point without being spotted by anyone in the castle. He got down on his belly and looked over the edge. The craggy face had enough of a ledge that he could scale his way to the door—it looked to be only a hundred feet from where he lay. That is, if the tide didn’t threaten to rip him out while he climbed. He tied one end of his rope to his axe and the other to the trunk of a scrub oak. And then, with a deep breath, he aimed for the center of the door and tossed the axe.

It landed with a thunk , the sound drowned out by the waves crashing on the rocks. He held his breath for a few moments, waiting to see if anyone would come running.

No one peered over the walls, no one opened the door. No one shouted. He exhaled.

Now or never .

And he rolled himself over the edge of the cliff, determined to get her back.