by Lola White
He was saved from Eliasz’s wrath by the entry of another man, this one dressed entirely in black. He was little more than a shadow in the darkness of the lobby, but Graves seemed to sense his entrance the moment the man stepped through the doorway behind the check-in counter.
Graves spun on the newcomer. “What are you doing, Charles? You are supposed to watch my pet and make certain she doesn’t slip through the cracks and run back to her mama.”
“You’ve already taken care of that. Besides, she’s in her room crying all over that damned cat you let her bring.”
“Then what do you want?”
“Constance asked me to find you and send you to her room. She wished to discuss something with you.”
Some unnamable emotion swept over Graves’ features. Softness came to his dark eyes and a modicum of tension fell from his shoulders. Then a feral smile tugged his lips and his teeth snapped.
He turned that hard expression on Silviu. “You will excuse me. My beautiful tigress needs me, of course. Charles will send you to your rooms, as soon as he finds an empty one for you, as you are uninvited.”
Silviu lifted an eyebrow. “Yes, of course. Take your time.”
“Charles,” Graves stalked toward the man while his voice filled the lobby, “perhaps you will give Eliasz Levy and Silviu Lovasz the room meant for the newly betrothed couple Daniel is so fond of. Find a separate room for the angel close to mine, so my prayers may be answered in the night.”
Charles’ gaze crashed into Silviu’s. Tension swelled between them, a silent war of testosterone, a measuring of men. Silviu didn’t flinch, didn’t even feel the need to. He already knew who would win the test of wills. The other man’s hand rose to twitch a long braid over his shoulder and Silviu felt his opponent’s arrogance give way.
Charles waited for Graves to leave the room before grimacing. “Please wait here for a moment while I find an empty room for you…Mr. Silviu Lovasz.”
As the man left, Eliasz hefted a brow and murmured, “That smacked of respect, at least.”
Silviu shook his head. “If it wasn’t for the Davenolds being forced into attendance, none of us would be staying here. You two don’t have to—”
The other man cut him off. “I’m here at Daniel’s request and he holds the decision to put me on the Council in his hands. I want that seat, Silviu, and you need me to get it, but I’m not his first choice. I have to fucking pander.”
Frustration began to gnaw on Silviu’s brainstem. The Levys weren’t very keen on placing Eliasz, one of the strongest witches in their Family, in a position of even greater strength. But Silviu very much wanted his brother-in-law in a place that would favor his own goals. He was neatly caught.
“This is all very bizarre and I don’t like it. We’ll have to keep our eyes and ears open.”
“You think, Silver?” Ileana poked him in the back and slid around his body to press against Eliasz. “That is the strangest man I’ve ever met, and I grew up with Alexandru Lovasz for a grandfather.”
Silviu nodded in complete agreement. His grandfather might be a bully who was slowly slipping into senility, but there was nothing absent-minded about Graves’ odd behavior. For as mad as he may be, calculation gleamed in the man’s eyes, and menace radiated from his body.
“You will be careful, Iley,” he told his sister.
“Careful, hell.” Eliasz snorted. “You will not leave my sight, Ileana.”
She hummed. “I can work within those guidelines. What are you going to do about Georgie, though, Silver?”
He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Pray she doesn’t kill our host.”
Chapter Five
Tulah
“You must not be seen.”
“I know, Mama.” Tulah folded her shirt and laid it on the end of the bed before stretching her naked limbs.
Chelsea’s face contorted into anxious lines. “I’m worried about you. If they notice two cats, Tulah, we—”
“I know, Mama, but it would take a sharp eye to tell us apart. Our markings are nearly identical.”
They’d been at the hotel for the longest week of Tulah’s life, but they’d managed to keep their secrets. Graves’ attention was focused elsewhere for the most part, though he took every opportunity to force Tulah to his will, trying to break her and her spirit. To humiliate her.
She refused to give him the satisfaction.
Her stubbornness seemed to amuse Graves even as it offended him. Though his attacks became more outrageous, he hadn’t hit her again after that first strike at her home. Her cheek had blossomed with a deep violet bruise—a mark she wore defiantly, hoping it would last long enough to offer the Family Father evidence of Graves’ abuse. Magic could heal wounds, but nothing except time could take away the bruises.
Time was not on her side. Tulah felt a perverse regret for Graves’ newfound self-control as the damage to her face had faded into a faint yellow sheen over her cheekbone Muso probably wouldn’t even notice. So instead of physical abuse, Tulah had to put up with Graves’ public molestation.
For days he’d been manhandling her body solely to soothe his ego and remind her of her powerlessness, as he had the previous night in front of his new guests. Not that Graves touched her with lust. That emotion was reserved for his betrothed and her father—a situation that left Tulah vaguely ill and unwilling to speculate as to just how crowded their bed might be.
Chelsea’s worry interrupted Tulah’s thoughts. “I’ve heard that Silviu Lovasz is sharp enough to notice the difference between two black cats.”
Even banished from the Family, rumors had reached them of the youngest Lovasz son. He was almost a celebrity. He was said to be powerful and cool under pressure, maybe even cold. He was a patriarchal witch due to marry the heir of the most powerful Matriarch. An extraordinary situation among the fiercely divided covens.
Tulah wondered if he would help her, but immediately dismissed the idea. It wasn’t Silviu’s eyes that went hard at Graves’ behavior—but Eliasz Levy would have to obey his Family Father. Daniel had seen Graves in action already and said nothing, only let his lips curve in a line that spoke of both amusement and revulsion.
Tulah offered a weak smile. “I’ll be fine.”
Chelsea only sighed, clearly unconvinced. Tulah’s chest tightened in an unvoiced admittance that what she was about to do was not only foolish, but dangerous. Still, it was worth the risk if she could ferret out anything that would gain her and her mother an edge over Graves.
“Mama, if this bothers you so much, you could always stay in here.” Tulah waved to encompass the cramped, dark room she’d been given. Barely larger than a closet, the space was oppressive with overdone wallpaper and matching burgundy carpet and drapes. “Then there would only be one cat on the prowl.”
Her mother fidgeted for a moment, clearly debating her choices. But, in the end she gave a sharp nod. “We will both go. This is too important.”
“Yes.” Without another word Tulah let her magic flow free, not waiting for her mother to change her mind again.
Warmth spread through her muscles as she released her magic. She freed it from the ruthless control she wielded over it, letting it roar up within her to burst through her skin and distort the air around her body. It shifted and swirled until indigo highlights flickered like fireflies. Her ears rang for a moment, her muscles jangled in warning. In the spotted mirror over the battered vanity, Tulah watched her human body dissolve and pour over itself.
There was a blaze of magic, a pull on her spine, and Tulah took her cat form. Painless and quick with a satisfying surge of power in her heart. She loved her talent, the only magic she had, and she loved that she could change so well, adored how much less vulnerable she felt in this form, with agility and claws at her disposal.
A wasted confidence. Graves could kill her no matter what she looked like.
Tulah pushed the thought away as she stretched. She rolled her spine and reached out, translu
cent claws spearing from her black paws to dig into the ugly carpet. Tulah spent an extra minute doing her best to tear the worn fabric into ribbons, but it was too resilient, forcing her to give up and focus on her task.
Sighing, Chelsea stroked her daughter’s head before reaching to crack the door open. Tulah knew the hallway beyond was empty, but her mother still pressed her eye to the opening to double-check before pulling back to release her own magic.
Within moments, one black cat had become two, and the pair wriggled past the door, taking off in separate directions. Chelsea would investigate the ground floor while Tulah concentrated on the third. The majority of the second floor was empty, still waiting for the rest of the guests scheduled to arrive over the next few days.
If she could, Tulah would have used the opportunity to slip from the hotel, to simply leave with her mother and run, far and fast. But she knew better now. When she’d tried to find refuge in the half-dead garden behind the hotel the first day of her imprisonment, she’d been brought down by a brutal spell. The moment her foot—in human form, thank all that she held holy—had crossed the threshold, undiluted pain had speared through her. Flames had wrapped her senses in agony until, as she convulsed on the floor, Charles had arrived to save her. He’d taken great delight in informing her that she could not leave the hotel.
Silently, Tulah quickly slipped through the quiet halls and climbed the stairs with light leaps. The hotel was shaped like a V, and she immediately moved to the left, where the tingle of magic was barely felt. Her ears twitched, straining for any useful tidbit she might overhear. She passed no one.
Tulah looked for any piece of information that would help her and her mother win Muso’s support of their freedom from Graves’ sadistic control, but the fact-finding mission proved futile. Thirty minutes later, Tulah had investigated most of the rooms in the left wing and had found nothing to suggest any plot by Graves—no papers revealing an evil scheme, no gossip shared amongst the few residents and even fewer guests. Most of the rooms were unoccupied, and she retraced her path down the corridor toward the wing where the Family suites were.
She slowed her steps, slinking close to the wall. Her whiskers twitched at the sensation of magic, a cold pressure along her spine that warned her of protection spells and God only knew what else. Part of her was terrified the same spell that kept her indoors would be used to keep her out of the Family wing, a place she’d specifically been forbidden to enter.
Her skin flinched in a long roll down her back and over her haunches. Phantom claws raked her head as she inched forward, nearly crawling as she pressed through a thick, invisible barrier. Magic clamped down on her, but she wiggled through the resistance without pain.
She paused just on the other side of the spell, taking a precious moment to draw breath and calm her heart. As the ringing in her ears faded, her superior cat senses picked up on a whispered hiss of words rolling from beneath the door she’d stopped in front of.
She laid down and pressed her eye to the crack of light oozing beneath the barrier. She couldn’t see a damn thing. She curled her paws in front of her and rested her chin on them, her ear twitching until it settled into a position that made the most of the quiet, angry conversation.
“He’ll be here today, stop worrying.”
“How can I not worry, Constance? Everything rests on your ability to hold him.”
The first female voice was familiar, but Tulah had a hard time placing it. Constance Gage-Levy, Graves’ betrothed, was easier to identify. Tulah had been in her company a lot over the past week, which suited Tulah just fine, as Graves seemed to have a genuine soft spot for his bride. Constance had a talent for calming him down, and therefore taking some of the heat off Tulah.
Constance’s voice edged into shrill on the best of days, threaded with more than a hint of a whine. Today it was sharper than usual. The other voice was more cultured and assured. The conversation continued and Tulah finally understood.
“And I will hold him, Mother.”
“He’s notoriously fickle in his relationships.”
“I had him in Poland, his undivided attention. It’s just a matter of reconnecting with him. Easy.”
“Hardly easy.” There was a soft snort. “He was only in Poland for a long weekend and there were few other options for him there. You must do everything in your power to regain his attention and work it to your best advantage.”
“That won’t be a problem.”
“Don’t underestimate him, Constance.” Anne Gage-Levy’s tone turned hard, cold. “This is much too important.”
“I know that, Mother. Why do you think I demanded his presence? No matter who that old bat Madeleine chooses, Adam will have power in the Davenold Family.”
“Power you could wield.”
“And I fully intend to. I have to, if I’m going to come through this crazy scheme alive.” There was a sigh, and the tenor of the conversation changed. Constance’s voice softened, turning wistful as it gained a new level of whininess. “It would have all been so much easier if I didn’t have to marry Graves.”
“You must, if our plans for Adam Davenold fall through. Graves is the best option.”
“I know, but it would have been nice to not have to marry a man fucking—”
“That’s the beauty of the whole thing, Warner will keep him busy.”
“It never fails to amaze me that Warner can wrap Graves up like that, Mother. He must be an excellent lover.”
“Don’t look at me like that. How the hell should I know? I don’t care what the two of them do, our focus is Adam Davenold and making him fall in love with you. Constance, it’s not enough to sleep with him.”
“I know. Don’t worry on that score. He’ll be eating out of the palm of my hand before the wedding commences, trust me.”
“Don’t use magic on him.”
“As if that would be a possibility.” Constance’s sharp tone softened. “His is terribly strong.”
“I noticed.”
“And I won’t be receiving any enhancements in that arena.” Bitterness crept into Constance’s whine. “Whatever, I don’t need anything more than my body to gain his devotion.”
Anne didn’t sound convinced. “Again, I warn you not to underestimate him. Every witch has heard of his sexual exploits, the sheer number of women fighting to get into his bed.”
Constance gave a low chuckle. “Which is why my plan will work. I won’t fall at his feet, I’ll challenge. I’ll walk a fine line of surrender and supremacy and wrap him up tight. He’s a matriarchal man, used to being dominated by women, but he’s still a man. He’ll want control.”
“Hmm, yes, I see. A little bit different from your Poland campaign.”
“In Poland, I surrendered. Now it’s his turn. The challenge, the mystery, will drive him crazy.”
“You’ll be busy with the wedding plans, leaving little time for games.”
There was a slight pause before Constance’s words drifted from beneath the door. “The lack of attention will only draw him in faster. Look, this what I do, Mother. Discovering what makes people tick is my own brand of talent and, to date, I’ve never read a man wrong.”
Ten minutes later, the ladies’ conversation drifted onto the more mundane topic of wedding plans. Tulah blinked and shook herself, rising to her feet before backing down the hall. As much as she’d love to continue on to explore the Family’s quarters, her head whirled too much to be useful in the investigation. She needed to process what she’d just heard and obtain her mother’s opinion.
Getting out of the Family wing proved to be much easier than gaining entrance, and Tulah wasted no time returning to her room. She pushed past the door and paused to watch her mother pace with agitated steps. Chelsea wrung her human hands in the folds of a lightweight dress.
The older woman spun, her eyes narrowing as she took in Tulah’s feline form. “Where have you been? I was worried.” She charged toward the door but managed to close it quietly, rather
than slamming it shut as she clearly wished to do.
Tulah gathered her magic close, pushing it back behind the iron walls of her control as her bones chilled and shifted. Indigo swirled as her body lengthened, but the magical light died as her human shape emerged from the glow. She rolled her shoulders and waited while her mother mumbled a silencing spell, not trusting the hallway to remain deserted after having eavesdropped on another conversation.
“You’ve been gone a long time, Tulah.”
“Not quite an hour, calm down.”
“You weren’t here when I came back and I have news.”
“So do I.” Tulah raised her brows at her mother and tugged on her clothes. “What did you find?”
“Graves and Daniel Levy were in the office, downstairs. Daniel was…scolding Graves, for lack of a better word, about his behavior.”
“Like that’ll do any good.” Tulah buttoned her jeans, not bothering to hold back her disbelieving snort. “Graves will do as he pleases, and there’s not a lot anyone else will be able to do about that.”
“Graves sounded contrite, even as he assured Daniel he knew what behavior was expected of him.” Chelsea propped her fists on her hips, her brows pulling together in concentration. “Daniel said for Graves to be careful until after the wedding.”
“What happens after the wedding?”
“I don’t know.” Chelsea lifted a shoulder. “Madeleine Davenold, as well as her granddaughter, Georgeanne, have also been invited. Maybe Daniel wants to appease her while she’s here.”
“I wonder why.” Tulah’s thoughts spun. She didn’t even realize she’d spoken out loud until her mother answered.
“Because Madeleine is not only the most powerful Mother on that side of the Schism, but also the reigning Council High Seat. Daniel mentioned the Sovereign Bestowal. In fact, Graves seemed very amused by it, but their conversation was too vague for me to make much sense of.”