Page 15 of Beyond the Cottage

Gretta fought the pathetic urge to whirl around and bolt. She was frightened, but she wasnota runner. Besides, Lab Coatcould get to her as easily in the cell as he could in his lair. May as well learn what she could while he was willing to talk.

She blew a strand of hair off her nose and marched through the doorway, eyes widening at the scene before her. It was terribly, horribly…

Anticlimactic. No weapons or chains lined the walls, only over-stuffed bookcases did. Instead of blood, she smelled leather and mildew, along with a hint of coffee. Lab Coat sat behind a cluttered desk with his forehead in his palm, wearing the same ratty clothes from yesterday.

He looked up. Another jolt hit Gretta, this one milder. She stayed behind the leather chair on her side of the desk and wiped emotion off her face.

Best to play this cool. She’d keep her yap shut and her ears open.

She’d bepatient.

After a long pause, Lab Coat blinked twice and swept his hand toward the chair.

“Please,” he said. “Have a seat.”

Chapter 6

Ansel tried not to stare like a fool as the pixie scanned the room without accepting his offer to sit.

Whycouldn’t he stop staring at her? She resembled any of his other donors. Pretty. Petite. Maybe her clothing threw him off? He wasn’t used to seeing a pixie in trousers. And he supposed he could admit shewasa dash prettier than average.

The strangest thing, however, was the sense of comfort that permeated him the moment she stepped into his office. Odd, since he couldn’t even smell her.

Ansel cleared his throat, and the pixie’s sharp brown eyes returned to him.

“The cuffs won’t be necessary,” he told Seven. “You may remove them and leave the key with me.”

Seven placed her book on his desk. She fumbled at the pixie’s wrists, and when the cuffs were off, she handed him the key before leaving.

The pixie watched her go before turning to Ansel. He couldn’t read her mood, though he wasn’t obtuse enough to believe it wasfavorable. She seemed calm, at least. Giving her the night to rest had been wise.

That time apart had done him good, as well. Locking her behind bars had mentally drained him, occupying his thoughts until he couldn’t sleep, testing his resolve. The morning, however, had fortified him.

He nodded at the chair. “Please, sit.”

She did.

Ansel adjusted his coffee mug and straightened a pen. He carefully stacked a pile of junk mail he planned to throw away. “So, ah…”

The pixie arched her brow.

Why the hell was he stalling like a nervous half-wit? He’d carefully prepared his arguments, there was no reason to stammer through them like he was giving a dissertation in the nude.

He folded his hands on the desk. “Thank you for meeting with me. I’d like to—”

“Did I have a choice?”

“Excuse me?”

“In meeting with you. Did I have a choice?”

Ansel settled deeper into his chair and tapped his fingertips together. “I suppose if you’d refused, my assistant wouldn’t have dragged you here by the hair. However, I thought you’d appreciate some clarity regarding this…situation.”

The pixie scoffed.

“But first,” he continued, “I’d like to extend an apology for the manner in which you were brought here. Our business straddles the line of the law, but we don’t employ abduction as a means of procuring donors.” He took a breath. “I also personally apologize for harvesting your dust without consent.”

Her cheeks flushed with anger, and Ansel shut his mouth. While his apology was sincere, it may have been a mistake to remind her of what he’d done.

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