Page 25 of Feral Possession

Ida yelped and grabbed her chest. “Goddess save me, child. Are you trying to stop my heart?”

“Sorry.” Dove stepped back while Ida made her way to the dirty dishes on the side table. “Is he home? What did he say? Can I come out now?” Dove shuffled after her, crowding in close, almost stepping on the housekeeper’s heels.

Ida turned with the dishes in her hands, and they collided. The elderly woman cast her eyes to the ceiling, muttering under her breath. She clenched the tray as though bracing. “Lord Steele has returned from his trip.”

“Yes!” Dove pumped her fist in the air. Freedom was hers.

“And has yet to release you due to the late hour.”

“No.” Dove’s fist plummeted to earth. “But that’s not fair. It’s been three days. He can’t keep me in here forever.” If he tried, she’d shout pumpernickel so fast she’d knock the hood right off his condescending head. Although she’d have to say the word to him directly, and Steele was making that impossible.

“Not to worry, I’m sure he’ll see you settled tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? That’s like twelve million hours from now. Can’t you tell him I need to speak with him?”

Ida shuffled toward the exit. “Sorry, dear. There’s nothing I can do. Lord Steele gave strict instructions that he was not to be disturbed this evening.”

“But, but—” The door swung closed behind Ida, and the lock snicked into place.

“Argh!” Dove raked her fingers down her face and dropped to her knees, glaring at the door. “Go, go laser vision!” She narrowed her eyes at the keyhole. Nope. “Open sesame.” She waved her hands, casting an imaginary spell. Nothing. She sank back on her heels. Why couldn’t she have manifested a useful supernatural gift like telekinesis?

Her hip buzzed, and she checked her phone. It was Celeste.

How does freedom taste?

Dove scowled at the screen, punching in her response. My bail was denied.

I’m sure he’ll let you out in the morning.

She nibbled her lip, eyeing the lock on her door, and an idea took shape. Perhaps she did have one rusty skill at her disposal.

Her thumbs blazed across the digital keys. Heck with that. I’m busting out of this joint.

Wasn’t the point of this punishment a lesson in reckless decisions?

Whose side are you on?

Yours. Go for it.

What felt like ten years later, Dove kneeled before the keyhole. On the floor beside her was a broken nail file, half a dozen bent bobby pins, and Steele’s mangled credit card. All failures. She wiggled the paperclip into the opening. “Come on, baby. Open for Mamma.” While at Havenhouse, she’d gotten caught sneaking out of her room numerous times. When they started locking her in at night, she’d taught herself to pick locks.

The tumbler rolled in the chamber and her breath hitched. Did she do it? The doorknob twisted free. Ha! And Armond believed she had a short attention span, flitting from one distraction to the next. When she really set her mind to it, her focus was a magnifying glass in an eight-year-old’s hand, blazing down on an unsuspecting ant.

She eased to her feet and cracked the door open. Fresh air wafted over her face, and she drew in a deep breath. So what if it was just as fresh as the air in her bedroom? This air smelled different. It smelled like freedom. Better than freedom, it smelled like Marcus Steele could suck it.

In her defense, she’d totally fulfilled her end of his childish punishment. It was Steele who hadn’t fulfilled his. She was simply rectifying the oversight.

She poked her head out. At this hour, Ida was long gone. Dove’s cushy socks muffled her footsteps on the hardwood floors. Unlike Havenhouse, Steele’s penthouse was squeak-proof, the floors solid beneath her feet. Tight as his lordship’s ass.

She slunk into the great room. Once there, she scanned the darkened space. Okay. She was free. Now what?

The grand piano beckoned. Too risky. Steele was likely sleeping. She didn’t dare wake him. He was grumpy enough during the day. She’d hate to meet him in the witching hour.

Midnight snack? It was a good place to start. Question was, where had Ida stashed the good stuff?

Moments later, Dove reclined on the sofa, a half-eaten bag of wholegrain croutons on her lap. She licked her salty fingers, ignoring a gurgled objection from her gut. It figured, the one time she snuck out, there wasn’t a potato chip or salted caramel anywhere to be found. Seriously, the conditions here were inhumane.

Being an escaped convict wasn’t as fun as she’d imagined. There was no point in even attempting to leave the building. Steele’s team of guards would nab her in a second. She tipped her head back on the armrest and eyed the lofty ceiling. Becoming Steele’s Chosen was far from what she’d expected. For starters, he’d shown zero interest in feeding from her. It was getting harder not to take it personally. If he didn’t plan to take advantage of her super-charged faerie blood, what did he want from her? The thought he may have claimed her with some dastardly motive was concerning.

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