Page 65 of Home to the Hollow

“You’re the one who snorted at the Crown Prince, my lady. You’ll have to pay the price,” Zasha smirks, shrugging his shoulders. “Sarcasm isn’t always free, you know.”

Great. I didn’t even want to come here. Hell, I don’t even know where this is!

It’s apparent I won’t have a choice, though, so I stand. Before I move, I smooth the jacket dress and my fishnets down, trying to make sure I’m not flashing anyone on my hike to the stage. I don’t have the foggiest how he heard or saw me through the smoky haze at that distance, but my mom’s insistence that one day I’d regret muttering under my breath is echoing in my mind.

At least she was right about one thing.

When I reach the front, I take the stairs at the side and walk towards the spotlight. Dhameer gestures impatiently, and I walk up to him with an irritated look. His smile only grows wider as he turns to the crowd, stepping back to hold his arms out.

“I know nothing about this woman—save she has no patience for prideful wretches such as myself.” The titters echo across the room and I cross my arms over my chest. He walks to stage right, pulling a chair from the wings and placing it downstage center. “But tonight, for your viewing pleasure, I will uncover her deepest desires and grant her the ability to realize them.”

Mmm. One part magician, one part con artist, I suppose. He will not hypnotize me or put me in a trance; many have tried and failed in the past. “If you say so, dude.”

“A skeptic! How wonderful!” He claps his hands, actual delight flashing over his features. “Sit down, Miss…?”

“Whitley. Jolene Whitley,” I sigh before perching on the chair.

His eyes widen, and he tilts his head, studying me carefully. “A lovely name, to be sure. If you could close your eyes and try to relax, I will ask you a few more questions.”

“Okay.” I close my eyes, mentally swearing at Seer for bringing me to this farce. I can hear the boards creak as he walks around me in a slow circle. A soft breeze coasts over my skin, but he doesn’t touch me. The distance helps me relax and when my shoulders slump, I hear a pleased sound.

“Miss Jolene. Tell me what your fondest memory is.”

I shrug. “I don’t know. My memory is an issue.”

Another sound, a few steps, and a pause. “Can you tell me what makes you happy?”

That hits me. It’s changed so much since I came back, and I haven’t had time to sort through all of those feelings. My hand moves to my breastbone of its own volition, and I rub my palm there as I consider his royal dickface’s question.

What makes me happy?

Definitely not what I thought made me happy before I moved home to the Hollow. I intend to solve the mystery of my background check, and whatever my parents had going on, but I don’t think I’d move to Richmond to pick up where I left off.

In the past month, I’ve unintentionally put down roots, and I want to see where my little cadre is going. I enjoy working with the kids and in my studio. I love having the guys and my companions around. Even having Seer down the road has become part of the fabric of my daily routine. I couldn’t give any of it up to go back to a lonely apartment and weekends on the gun range.

“My new life,” I whisper as my heart squeezes in my chest. “My friends and family make me happy.”

Footsteps stop in front of me, and I can only assume he’s looking down at me. The crowd gasps at something I can’t see, but I feel a rush of cold air before a warm breath near my face. “Then a family you shall have. It is done.”

My brows furrow as I frown, confused at the murmured words. After a few moments, the crowd claps and I can’t resist opening my eyes. Looking around, I peer into the darkened room, trying to see what they’re applauding for, but I only see patrons. I turn to look up at the handsome jerk smirking at me, rolling my eyes. “Well, that was anticlimactic.”

“Was it?” he replies. “We shall see.”

“If you say so, dude.” I stand, stomping over to the stairs and heading for my group. I don’t know what kind of magic this dude was flogging, but he didn’t pull the wool over my eyes. I didn’t feel a thing, nor do I have an urge to cluck like a chicken.

Chicanery, that’s what this was.

“How do you feel, Peanut?” Seer asks, cocking a brow at me.

“Ugh. Fine. Let’s get out of here before I have to survive another round of this idiot’s lame magic.”

Tharin and Zasha look at one another as if they know something I don’t, and I’m too irritated to ask. The list of what they know I don’t is miles long, given that I just met them. Julia clucks her tongue at me and gives Seer a look like I’m the crazy one. I tap my foot, waiting for them all to move their asses, and they scoot out of the booth.

It’s about time. I need more booze and a LOT of dancing to wash the ick from my mind. That guy is a con and an asshat; thank fuck I never have to see him again. I don’t care if Julia’s royalty comment is true—I want nothing to do with that arrogant fuckwad.

“Are you leading us to an underground place where the youths get jiggy?” Julia asks, giving Seer another one of those annoying wordless conversation looks.

I choke. “Youths... get.. jiggy?”

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