Page 6

CHARLOTTE

The ground floor and basement are all clear of supernaturally spooky things, but the number of spiders living in the corners is enough to make me wish that half the kitchen wasn’t sitting in the bowels of this castle.

It’s inhumane to put the place where food is made beside a nest of possibly venomous spiders.

But this place wasn’t built in the past century, so I should consider myself lucky that it has running water down there.

I shiver as I make my way around, thankful that the sconces on the walls are all electric, so they should help once that goes on.

“Kitchen, storage, wine cellar, all make up a two-story kitchen. I’m all set to sit out an incursion by the common folk.” I snicker as I make my way back up.

A prickle that starts on the back of my neck crawls down my back, and I swat at the spot. If there’s a spider down my shirt, I’m going to freak out. Oh god… what if it’s the boogeyman? He could be real.

I shouldn’t be freaking out this hard since I’m alone, but the awareness of a possible something is making my insides twist. I swing my eyes around the hallway at the top of the steps down to the basement section of the kitchen.

The mix of warmer air and the coolness from the basement must be what is throwing me off.

The castle is seemingly well kept, but even a dozen blazing fireplaces can’t make castles a consistently comfortable temperature.

I never expected to own property at all, given the economy is at the moment. Praying for a market crash would be incredibly selfish now, but someone suddenly kicks the bucket, and now I have all of this.

My stomach growls, breaking me out of my stupid castle-centric thoughts.

I huff and press a fist into my stomach, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling.

I should have eaten the dinner on the plane, but the draw of sweet, dreamless sleep was too strong.

When nightmares are a regular occurrence, you’ll give anything for a night of peace, even if it means you have to skip overly salty airplane food.

“Maybe there’s a pizza place or something.” I sigh, but the thought makes me giggle.

Any pizza here would be an affront to a possibly real God.

If monsters are real, then why not God? Why not multiple gods?

“Wow, existential much,” I say, allowing myself to slip into that comfortable space you go to when you’re alone in your house. Talking out loud comes as naturally as thought. “Get a snack in your tummy and then knock out…or find your suitcases and then knock out.”

I still haven’t figured out where those went while I was talking to Eloise. Sure, I only checked out the ground floor and basement, but I put at least an hour and a half of effort into the search.

Running my hands along the pristine-looking wallpaper, I take the stairs two at a time to get to where I hope there will be a bedroom. But because nothing is ever easy, a dozen different doors on either side line the first hall I come to on the second level.

“This is going to be impossible.”

Not as impossible as I thought .

My tried-and-true method of closing my eyes and going with my gut works way too well for me in this instance.

I managed to find a beautiful room with fresh linens and my suitcases on the first try.

Ignoring the sense of dread that coils in my stomach at the coincidence, I sit on the edge of the bed, kicking off my shoes.

Wiggling my toes in the plush carpet distracts me from my hollow stomach until it yowls in displeasure.

I check through the contents of both bags before I’m satisfied.

Sure, there was seemingly no one to bring these up, but a rogue panty thief could have been hiding out beside the loch, just waiting for me to leave these unattended.

All panties safe and accounted for, I unpack my clothes and set them in the stunning hand-painted bureau.

Of course the motif is wilderness, with little animals and flowers.

The paint on the flowers and little forest animals is hardly chipped, and I find them charming.

My aunt must have painstakingly restored and kept up so much of this castle when it was under her care. I wish for a moment that I could have known her. Did she live here all alone? Did she have any pets? Did she have friends in town who I’ll have to meet and introduce myself to?

“Fuck me, that’ll be great.” I chuff. “‘Hey, I’m Charlotte Ryan. Yeah, oh, you were friends with my aunt? That’s great!

She didn’t want me even after my parents died!

Oh, why am I so bitter? Don’t know. Just inherited a castle and will be drip fed a fortune with the expectation of ‘finding myself.’” I hiss the words out to the fictitious busybody.

Nah, even if she didn’t want me, I can’t imagine my aunt would have been friends with someone like that.

Besides, if Eloise is any indication, then people should be nice around here.

Small town, everyone knows everyone, and I’m going to be the odd duck for a little while.

Hopefully, just a little while and not for the rest of my life. That would suck ass.

Groaning, I scrub my hands roughly over my face. My whole body aches with phantom and not-so-phantom pains.

I miss my sister and I miss my parents and I miss being able to order delicious delivery pizza whenever I want.

I pull a small bag of flaxseed crackers I grabbed from the airline out of my bag and munch on them as I take in everything in the room.

A wealth of details that cost a fortune are all around me—the lace curtains and fine rugs speak of riches and history I can’t comprehend.

I feel like an impostor, even if this is all supposed to be mine.

It makes my chest a little less tight to think about calling Kennedy tomorrow and telling her about my trip here.

After finishing the last of my stashed snacks, I venture into the chilly hallway in search of a bathroom, poking at some doors closest to this room.

Each door is highlighted by wide beams of moonlight that filter through the intricate metal patterns over the windows, like side quests await me beyond the threshold.

Bedroom after bedroom after bedroom, until I encounter the first locked door.

A noise of confusion and displeasure rises in my throat, but I choke it down.

I have keys to every door, but, of course, I left them in my new room.

“I swear if you aren’t a bathroom with a soaking tub, I’m going to be so upset when I finally get you open,” I growl at the door before turning and stalking down the hall.

I check five more doors, three more being locked, before I find the bathroom I’ve been searching for.

Modern fixtures greet me, illuminated by the moonlight through yet another decorative window.

Bright white and gleaming gold marble on the floor and trendy white subway tiles on the walls all feel like decoration whiplash compared to the antique furnishings and carpets filling the castle.

There is both a clawfoot tub that looks big enough to house two or three giants at the same time and a rain shower with… one, two, three, four showerheads.

I float over and turn on the water, glad it comes out nearly steaming. I shuck off my clothes, glad to rid myself of the past ten-ish hours, and step under the blissfully hot spray.

“That’s the stuff,” I moan, eyes falling shut.

I run my hands over all my curves, rubbing my hands over my breasts and waist, but especially into the place on my hips where the seams of my panties were digging in painfully. I need to skip the thongs when it comes to traveling next time. You live and learn.

The water pressure and heat are just too good. I stand under the various sprays, whimpering as my muscles are massaged. It’s almost erotic how damn good it feels after hours of nothing but recycled air on the plane and then a slightly damp drive here.

“I’m going to live right here. Loch witch of the castle, lady of the clawfoot tub, shall be my name,” I mumble with a snort of laughter.

I really don’t need to come off like that to the rest of the townspeople, but I can’t seem to care at the moment. I stand under the spray and then sit when I find a cute little shelf on one side of the wall and soak up all the heat until my fingers and toes resemble raisins.

Slipping out of the shower some time later, I have to grasp the handle for the sliding door before I fall and crack my skull open.

“No bath mats, no towels. Cool, cool, cool, OK,” I murmur, bringing my thumb to my mouth and chomping at the nail.

Something about the soft clicking sound of my teeth taking away bits of the nail soothes me, but I stop myself before I draw blood.

“OK, just…carefully.” I spread my arms out, trying to use them to balance myself as I step slowly across the marble floor, heading for the door.

I didn’t bring any towels, but I can dry off with a loose and comfy PJ shirt or something to keep the good-ish clothes dry for going out shopping tomorrow.

I’m going to need a lot of things. The kitchen is basically empty now that I think about it.

I would like some actual soap to wash with, even if that sinfully delightful water does a good enough job.

I have travel toiletries, so I’m not completely screwed, but the thought of something full sized and fresh wins my mind over.

I reach the door without busting my ass and pull it open. Toddling into the hallway, I shiver, nipples going hard at the change in temperature.

“Fuck, I need to turn on the heat tomorrow.”

Back in the bedroom I’ve laid claim to, I grab my oldest and comfiest T-shirt from my PJ collection and go about toweling off. So far, so good. This first night isn’t a total disaster, and I got in one heck of a shower.

Sighing, I wrap my hair in the same T-shirt and pull on another oversized shirt to sleep in, forgoing the underwear. I prefer to sleep with as little on as possible, but if I start seeing yellow blobs—or any color blobs—again, I can’t exactly haul ass out of here buck naked.

I snicker, imagining what people would say if I did have to run out of the castle in the middle of the night.

Sure, most people would be asleep, but there are bound to be some teenagers in this town staying up past their bedtime, doing broody teen things.

And there I go, running out of the castle with all my rolls glistening in the moonlight.

I bite my lip on another snort, rubbing at the bridge of my nose and adding Breathe Right strips to my mental shopping list.

I’ll probably discover I need something else, or a good deal of something elses, in the morning, but that’s morning Charlotte’s problem.

I draw back the heavy blanket and soft-as-silk sheets and slip into the bed, melting into the softest mattress I’ve ever lain on. My mind was racing before, but at first contact with this bed, all my thoughts are rendered null and void—flown south for the winter.

“Just need a little nap.” I yawn, pulling the blankets up to cover me completely.

I fall into a blissfully dreamless sleep as soon as my eyes close.