Page 99 of Seduce Me in Shadow

Sabelle nods. “I’ll help, especially if it will improve his condition.”

“I can lend a hand, too,” I offer.

“No,” Caden bites out. “But thank you.”

His immediate, adamant refusal stings. Can everyone at this table see my heart breaking?

Caden leans closer and murmurs, “I don’t want to involve you anymore. Let me protect you.”

Is he trying to keep me safe or is that a lie to soften the blow? What danger could there be in cleaning up a house? None. He simply doesn’t want me there.

Was the tenderness he once showed me manufactured by the Doomsday Diary? After all, it grants wishes, and I fantasized about him on the page. What we shared was more than sex—for me, anyway. Now that the spell is gone, so it appears is his caring.

In some ways, I wish I never laid eyes on that book. But had I not, Caden would never have let down his mammoth self-control and become my lover.

He has a lot on his plate, true. But deep down, he doesn’t want me for more than a shag, it seems. I have no one to blame but myself.

Rather than dwelling on my screw-up, I should focus on my story. Once this ordeal is over, I’ll release it. With great copy and proof of magickind’s existence, I’ll be a journalistic sensation.

But right now, my old life seems a million miles away. I push my plate aside.

“Anyone seen Shock?” Hurstgrove ventures, more to change the subject than anything else, I suspect. The man disappeared late last night, and I haven’t seen him since.

“I tried to reach him earlier to coordinate some last-minute plans for our—” Bram glances my way, then purses his lips together. “He didn’t answer.”

Whatever Bram was about to say will remain a secret. I understand why he doesn’t trust me, but I would never write a word forOut of this Realmwhen doing so would endanger magickind. I made that clear when I’d called Holly.

But they have no reason to trust me.

A series of trills and gongs sounds. Bram sits up straight, listening intently. As the last note fades away, he rises, looking bemused, and stalks from the room.

I don’t understand. “What’s that noise?”

“A magical calling card,” Sabelle explains, looking somewhat bewildered herself. “To be polite, we send a distinct sound to another residence when we wish to visit.”

“Each person has an individual bell ring?”

“Something like that.”

“Do you know who that one belongs to?”

“Everyone,” Bram calls from the narrow dining room’s portal. “This is Tynan O’Shea.”

Mr. O’Shea is, in a word, yummy. Hair as dark and shiny as ink and slightly spiked, like a model ready for a photo shoot. A rugged face, a strong chin, and bronzed skin all give the appearance of a hearty outdoorsman. But his gray eyes look flat, as if all his happiness has been sucked dry.

He holds up a large palm by way of greeting, not meeting anyone’s eye, then turns an intense gaze to Bram. Clearly, he isn’t here to be sociable.

“Sit.” Bram gestures toward an empty seat at the table. “Hungry?”

O’Shea shakes his head. “I came to talk. I want answers.”

“Has something happened to your family?”

He shakes his head. “I’ve heard rumors that Mathias has returned.”

I frown. Rumors? Of course Mathias has returned. How does Tynan not know?

“Have you asked your grandfather?”

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