Page 21 of Wicked Court

“Pollen and other extracts can function as poison or hallucinatory drugs,” Axe answers quietly.

I arch an appreciative brow. “Axe is right. Creative weaponry always interests criminal enterprises. Was anything taken?”

“The mother, Caroline Wraithwood, was a rare botany collector before she stopped altogether after Maverick’s death,” Kaspian answers. “The mess made it impossible to determine if any plants were stolen.”

Wilder asks dubiously, “How can you even tell if someone took a leaf?”

I ponder, “The police would notice and become concerned if there were any toxic plants on private property. Wolfsbane, hemlock and the like.”

Kaspian shrugs. “Growing poisonous plants is perfectly legal. And their report mentioned nothing related to dangerous toxins.”

“How very unfortunate,” I say, steepling my fingers. “And the killer was never found?”

Kaspian shakes his head. “The case remains unsolved to this day. Left the family quite traumatized, from what I gather.”

What a tragic end to the Wraithwood family’s golden days. I imagine Elara gasping at the news of her beloved brother’s death, her haunted eyes filling with despair … and my desire to have her look at me like that.

It makes me hard.

I share a kindred look with Wilder. He’s alert, on edge, hungry for Elara’s continued hunt.

“Then we have our opening,” I say. “If the police failed to find the culprit, perhaps we can succeed where they could not.”

Wilder stops his stewing. “We solve the case, clear up this ‘tragedy’—”

“—and Elara will be in our debt,” Kaspian finishes with a sly grin.

I nod. Of course, we’ll dredge up no actual evidence. We don’t have time to solve a cold case while saving our own asses. But the mere offer could persuade Elara to cooperate.

Although she tries to hide it, we’ve found Elara’s vulnerability. My cock twitches, demanding attention again.

I love finding people’s shortcomings.

I turn back to the others, resuming our plotting, but Elara lingers at the edges of my awareness. A distraction. A puzzle I can’t seem to solve.

I tell myself it’s only frustration at this additional obstacle. But underneath, I feel the stirrings of something else. Fascination? Curiosity?

Whatever this unwanted attraction and intrigue toward Elara, I can’t forget who we are and what brought us here. What divides us from the Sovereigns and curses our family names from ever regaining elite status in the Court. Hell, the Nightshades fucking created the Cimmerian Court, and look at me now.

No matter how alluring the temptation is, I must not falter from my mission. Too much depends on it.

I instruct Kaspian, “See what else you can find out about this dead brother of hers. Where he went to school, who he was friends with, what could’ve motivated him to enter the greenhouse at night, that sort of thing. Find what we can use to convince Elara there was more to this crime than a break-in gone wrong.”

Wilder curves a smirk at me. “You think you can manipulate her like that, Cav?”

“I don’t think,” I retort. “I know.”

I find power in being the one who pulls the strings, the one who can orchestrate someone’s undoing with a whisper and a well-placed hint.

These are my brothers, my loyal comrades. But I don’t trust anyone completely.

There’s only one companion I can rely on without fault.

Myself.

Chapter 9

Elara

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