Page 13 of Feral Possession

Tiberius rose to the challenge, snarling back. “Then take care of your business or House Othonos will believe you incapable. You saw firsthand what happened to your father when his weakness was revealed. After your mother died, he was—”

“Enough,” Marcus barked, drilling his cane into the floor. Speaking of his parents tore open wounds that ran even deeper than his current ones.

Tiberius’s hard glare bore into him, as though he could see beneath the hood hiding Marcus’s face. “Understand, son. I only want what is best for you. Always have, always will. Who was there for you when your father was assassinated?”

“You were,” Marcus grumbled, out of habit. This wasn’t the first time Tiberius had dragged him along on this guilt trip.

“Who supported you when you defeated his murderer and claimed your rightful position as Lord of House Othonos?”

“You.”

“Who counseled you through your inexperience during those early years as lord?”

“You,” Marcus said with an exhale. While they didn’t always see eye to eye, Tiberius had supported him, raised him, guided him. Marcus wouldn’t be where he was today otherwise. He settled back into his seat. “I’ll meet with my officers tomorrow and think about what you’ve said.”

Think on it as he ran Helen to ground. The only issue Tiberius’s visit had influenced was the realization Marcus would need to keep his former CFO alive long enough to clear his name. Then he’d have his vengeance. Take it where all could bear witness. Because there was one thing Tiberius Steele had driven into him over the years. To appear weak was to be vulnerable. Only prey were vulnerable.

Marcus Steele was a predator.

Four

Dove lay on her back, upside down on the bed, bare feet propped on the headboard. Sterling rings gleamed on her unpainted toes. Boredom her only companion. Maybe she could give herself a pedicure. Yes! With the polish that was still at Vivian’s. Dang it.

She turned her head and glared at the locked door. Prior to her incarceration, she’d spent some time chatting with Ida, then explored the penthouse, not that there was much to explore with half the space off-limits. As promised, Ida appeared at 8:00 p.m. sharp, winched a skeleton key from the depths of her bosom, and locked Dove in for the night.

According to the clock on the nightstand, that was almost four hours ago. Only children were sent to bed before midnight. Sleep was the last thing on Dove’s mind.

Silky harem pants covered her legs with ties at the ankles and slits up the sides. Her midriff was bare below the cropped tank she wore. Perfect pajamas for belly dancing. Shame she didn’t know how. Maybe she’d take a class. She puffed out her gut, rounding her stomach before sucking it in again. Out. In. Out. In. Well, that was fun. Was it possible to die of boredom?

“Doomed!” She flung her arm over her eyes like some tragic damsel. “Doomed, I tell you.” Unfortunately, there wasn’t a soul around to even appreciate her dramatics. Drama was so much better with an audience. Lucky for her, she was her best audience.

She grabbed her throat, coughing and gasping. “Need… mental stimulation.” She rolled over in the bed, crawling across the mattress like it was the Sahara Desert. “Cheese puffs,” she groaned. “Cheese puffs and salted caramels.” The salmon, asparagus, and brown rice she’d had earlier was nutritious but far from what she’d been craving. “Help! Help me. Oh, what a world.” With one final choking cough, she collapsed. Dead.

Asparagus poisoning.

Wham!

“Gah!” Dove jerked, her muscles spasming. She whipped her head to the door and clutched her chest. What was that? It wasn’t a knock, more like the sound a bird would make smacking a window, but bigger. Much bigger.

She slid off the bed and tiptoed to the heavy wooden panel. The thing weighed a ton, seeming out of place in such a modern building. Given how it was constructed, you’d think Dove was a velociraptor they were trying to contain.

Why the heck did Steele have her locked inside, anyway? The whole situation was just weird. It was probably due to the fact that she was a ferocious necromancer, her awesome power feared by the underworld. Yeah, right. Her fellow faeries were far from dangerous. The Council had made sure of that, culling those they deemed too powerful.

“Hello?” Her ferocious voice trembled with nerves. “Is someone there?”

The bedroom lights flickered, electrical static crackling in her ears. She hugged her stomach, shivering at the sudden chill, and spun in a circle, glancing around the room. Thankfully, the flickering stopped, a warm glow once again lighting the space.

Faulty wiring? Weird. Clacking metal and a metallic squeak drew her back to the door. Eyes wide, she stared at the twisting doorknob. She held her breath, watching it rock back and forth.

Somebody was trying to get in.

But who?

“Steele? Is that you?”

Silence.

“Ida?”

---