Back home and after a hot shower and a change into comfortable clothes, I settled into my favorite spot on the balcony sipping a warm glass of blood, the heat seeping through the glass and into my fingers.
I took a sip, enjoying the richness of it as I leaned back in my chair. My eyes wandered to the distant horizon, where the ocean met the stormy sky as the world felt calm, but my mind was anything but. The deal Marcel had offered replayed in my thoughts, each detail dissected and examined.
Hanka Island.
The very idea made me smirk. He was bluffing, of course he was. That island didn't belong to him or anyone else, for that matter. But even knowing that, I couldn't shake the temptation the idea planted in my mind.
A place away from the Paradise Coven, away from the suffocating politics, the prying eyes, and Marcel's endless schemes. A place that could be mine. And more importantly, a place where I could meet him. The thought of the Lycan made my smile deepen as memories of his scent lingered in my mind like a melody I couldn't forget, rich, wild, and intoxicating. His blood had been powerful, a symphony of strength and vitality that had awakened something deep within me. But it wasn't just the power that drew me. There was something else, something I couldn't yet name but found myself longing for all the same. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I smiled genuinely, and a light chuckle escaped my lips. My beast stirred, its presence coiling warmly in my chest, a roar of approval echoing in my mind.
"This could work," I murmured, the words barely audible over balcony. I took another sip of blood, letting the warmth spread through me. The deal was a lie, yes. But if I played it right, perhaps I could twist Marcel's game into something that worked in my favor. For now, though, I allowed myself this moment of quiet, of hope.
Hours later dusk came as the sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the snow-laden streets as I chose to step out of my house. My destination was clear—the Royal Paradise Bar. If I knew Lord Marcel as well as I thought, he would be there, indulging in drinks and camaraderie with his loyal Coven members. The bar was bustling when I arrived, its golden lights spilling onto the snow outside. Laughter and clinking glasses filled the air as I entered, scanning the crowd until my eyes landed on him. Lord Marcel sat at the center of it all, of course, a Lord among his chosen court, his laughter rang out, and those around him laughed with him, their loyalty painted on their faces.
As I approached, the atmosphere shifted. The laughter faltered, and whispers rippled through the room like a gust of wind. Lord Marcel turned to see me, his expression lighting up in a calculated display of warmth.
"Freyr!" he exclaimed, standing up and spreading his arms as though greeting an old friend. I met him halfway, and we shook hands firmly. His grip was steady, but his eyes searched mine, likely trying to gauge my mood.
"It's a deal," I said bluntly, not bothering with pleasantries.
Marcel's grin widened, a flicker of triumph flashing in his eyes before he masked it. "Of course," he said smoothly. He gestured to a server and soon handed me a glass of wine. "But first, a toast!"
He raised his glass high, and I followed suit. The other Coven members watched us intently, their conversations fading into silence as Marcel's voice rang out. We clinked glasses, the sound ringing out like a challenge. The wine was rich, warming me as it slid down my throat as we made merry for an hour before I left the bar.
I wasn't sure if I'd won this round, but at least I hadn't lost. As I approached my home, I noticed a familiar figure leaning casually by the door. Even in the dim light, I recognized the effortless poise of my sister, Qadira. Her arms were crossed, and she looked bored, but she must have sensed my presence as the small smile playing on her lips betrayed her amusement.
"You reek of wine," she said with a laugh, turning towards me as I reached the door. Her voice carried the teasing warmth that only a sibling could master.
I nodded, a smirk tugging at my lips as I stepped forward to embrace her. "And here I thought I masked it well."
She hugged me tightly, her presence grounding me in a way no one else could. "Ma sent me to find you," she murmured against my shoulder. "She wants to see you."
I pulled back, studying her face. "Why now? What's so urgent that she sends you instead of summoning me herself?"
Qadira shrugged, though her small smile didn't falter. "She heard about Lord Marcel's deal," she said simply, her voice dipping with a trace of irritation. "She wants to discuss the matter with you."
I rolled my eyes but couldn't suppress the smirk that spread across my face. "Ma never changes, does she?"
Qadira chuckled, her eyes glinting with amusement. "No, and she never will. You know how she is. She's not about to let the Paradise Coven take advantage of the Kayne family—not on her watch."
Her words sparked a strange warmth in my chest, a reminder of Ma's unwavering strength and loyalty to our family. Despite everything, she would never allow anyone to undermine us.
"Well, I suppose I owe her a visit," I said, my tone light but my thoughts already turning serious.
Qadira looped her arm through mine as we stepped into the house. "Good. She's not exactly known for her patience, you know."
I chuckled softly; the weight of the night temporarily lifted by my sister's presence. "Come on, I better shower before we leave. "I responded.