A Crown of Blood

Chapter 6

Four days passed with nothing.

No training.

No sign of Damon.

No other wolf or magical creature.

Just me, the compound, Tamara, and my thoughts. What a dangerous combination. At least the wolf and my magic were under control.

Tamara's presence was both a comfort and a thorn in my side. She felt more like a straight-laced-study-hall monitor than a house manager, watching my every movement, not allowing me any breathing room to snoop around the Caine's lair for valuable information. Many of the rooms were locked, anyway. Damon's security measure after the camera in my necklace, no doubt. The Compound, as it was known, was under a temporary lockdown while they adjusted to my presence. Whatever that meant.

I was a hybrid. Not radioactive.

But I supposed it made sense. An alpha's priority was their pack's safety.

"They will be back at the end of the week," Tamara said, seemingly uncomfortable with the unmoving massive space as I was. This fortress was meant for people and movement and use. The stillness set me on edge.

And, if I was being honest, I looked forward to meeting the pack. Even with their reputation. I'd never had a family before. I yearned to see what that looked like.

I spent a lot of time in a tucked-away living room, this one smaller and cozier than the formal space we entered. When she noticed I wasn't reading, I was ninety-nine percent sure Tmara would give me a demerit if she could.

That's when it clicked. Tamara was ex-Military.

A Marine, she disclosed proudly one morning out on a terrace at the western side of the house. Beyond the trees, along a winding path, I heard the soft rush of water.

The mid-morning light painted rainbows across the high ceilings, and I lounged on a plush leather sofa with a book in hand. My assigned reading per Jude. The Basics of Energy Manipulation. First Edition.

It was drier than a saltine cracker baking in the desert.

Hours later, Damon arrived.

"Come with me," he said. The sharp edge to his voice piqued my interest, and I followed him, noting the distinct, metallic scent of blood matting his hair. Not his. But a lot of it nonetheless.

We passed through another set of doors just beyond the kitchen of the main floor. The room felt like another living room, lights dim, the interior adorned with nets of white fairy lights and celestial motifs. A long, black-stoned bar sat at the front of the massive space; portraits and shiny liquor bottles hung along the glistening gold cabinets, reading off expensive wineries and exclusive drinks not found at the local 7-Eleven I frequented.

Standing at the bar was Sutton Leon, the beta wolf of the Caine pack, Damon's second-in-command. He was tall, with swirling black tattoos that curled along his neck and disappeared into his collar. He appeared to be closer to the age of Damon's older brother. Or at least, the age that Noah Caine would have been if he hadn't been murdered two years ago: thirty-two. Four years older than Damon and Rosalia. The Lunar Twins, as they were known around magical circles. Two sides to a deadly coin.

"Ah," Sutton chuckled, resting his elbows on the granite countertop, his large biceps flexing to nearly the size of my head. "So this is what all the fuss has been about."

Fuss? I was definitely more than a fuss, thank you very much.

"It's nice to meet you," I said, suddenly unsure of what to say or how to act. Maybe I should've dressed a bit nicer... "I'm Halina."