Page 7 of Love Bites

“I still think you guys should leave me and go home,” Clementine whispered.

“She doesn’t count right now,” Izzy said quickly. “And I’m in too.”

She turned down a street, and the Manor’s impressiveness towered in front of us.

“You’ve been headed there the whole time?” Zora asked, with a snort.

“How many times have I told you to just take charge yourself if you already have a plan?” I grumbled at her.

Izzy winked at me through the mirror. “You’re better at it.”

I flipped her off, and earned a choked laugh from Clementine. That alone made it worth it.

“We should probably hurry, in case he’s already coming after us,” Zora said, as Izzy parked in the lot next to the beginning of the dramatic walking path that led to the Manor’s center. No one could drive there; the kings wanted everyone to take in the expanse of their power as they walked over a mile to their doorstep.

“We don’t need to,” Avery said, her eyes fixed on the buildings ahead of us. “I know his type. He thinks he’s won. He wants us scared and running from him, and won’t feel like he needs to show his face until we’ve had time to fear him.”

Avery was the only one of us who had ever been in a serious relationship before. She didn’t talk about it much, but we all knew the basics.

She had thought he loved her, but he’d been using her from the beginning.

Thankfully, she’d escaped before he marked her. Otherwise, we would’ve been in a similar situation in the past.

“I agree. If he came right after us, it would look desperate, and he doesn’t want his pack to see him that way,” Clementine said quietly. Her fingers brushed the mark on her neck, and pain flickered in her eyes.

Zora quickly grabbed one of her arms, and Avery grabbed the other, telling her she wasn’t alone.

“We should still move as fast as we can without triggering anyone’s chase instincts,” Izzy said, her gaze flicking around us. There were a few groups of people in the parking lot, and I could see more on the wide path ahead of us. “If any of these people realize what we are, we could be royally screwed.”

The rest of us agreed, and headed off.

I was at the front of the group, with Izzy at the back. She watched for anyone coming from behind, and I kept an eye on the front. When she worried about a certain group, she just called my name, and I joined her in the back for a few minutes.

No one made a move against us, thankfully.

It took nearly halfan hour to reach the center building at our annoyingly slow human pace. Moving supernaturally fast was a siren gift that we all appreciated—but one that didn’t do us any good when we couldn’t risk anyone chasing us.

I let out a breath of relief when we made it up the stairs and through the massive double doors that opened into the building at the center of the Manor. It was neutral territory, and therefore, should’ve been safe.

Nothing was a guarantee in our world, but that was about as close as we could get to one.

Inside, the building looked like a castle. The walls were a pristine shade of cream, the light brown stone flooring glittering. The art throughout the room looked expensive, and there were large statues and plants placed strategically to create flow in what was basically a wide-open space with thirty-foot ceilings.

Directly in front of us, there was an oversized receptionist desk that could’ve held twenty people comfortably. I only saw three openings in it, so it seemed safe to say it was only actually made for three receptionists.

The man sitting in front of one of them was the only person there at the moment.

Forcing myself to walk with confidence I really didn’t possess in the situation, I strode across the room. My sisters followed.

“What can I do for you?” the man asked, looking bored.

Another group came in behind us, laughing about something as they headed to the right, toward what I’d thought looked like an elevator on the way in.

“My sister was forcefully bonded to a werewolf, and now our safety is at risk. We’re looking for protection,” I said, hoping that was something along the lines of what he needed to hear.

“File a claim with the mate committee when they open in the morning.” He gestured toward a window, still uninterested in the conversation.

“We can’t. We’re unmated sirens,” I said.

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