Page 4 of For Dear Life

Again, he studies each guy. How’s Grayson coping with the blood on his clothes that he couldn’t wash away? I’m not sure how I’d cope if the situation were reversed and I wore Grayson’s blood. I’m keeping my distance from him, especially with the lingering tang of his blood from when the witch cut his arm.

“I need to shower and also to speak to Dorian and Eloise before I return to the academy. Things are rather complicated.”

“You can explain to me,” Zeke says tersely.

“Perhaps we should discuss this with all of us together? You know I hate repeating myself and I’m rather keen to remove these clothes.” I pat Zeke’s arm. “I promise I’ll tell you everything.”

“And your friends?” He steps further forward, scenting each guy. “They’re scared shitless of me—what’s their involvement?”

“They’re all involved because they want to help me,” I say. “This help is at personal risk to themselves.”

“They protect you?” Zeke asks, unable to hide how incredulous he is. “What from?”

“Herself. Humans.” Rowan breaks the silence, moving closer to me, and when he takes my hand, Zeke growls.

Good grief. For that response, I allow Rowan’s hand to remain around mine. “Why the pissed face, Zeke? Rowan has no ill intent towards me.”

“I don’t trust anybody’s intentions, Violet. Not until I become acquainted too.” He inclines his head at Grayson and Leif. “How acquainted are you with these guys?”

My lips thin. “I’m attempting to clear my name from murder accusations. I do not have time to experiment in sexual relationships. So, stop growling at them.”

Zeke flicks a tongue against a canine but drops into silence, and I resist poking into his thoughts. Not that I need to, he’s clearly unimpressed and suspicious. “Fine. I’m calling your mother and Dorian.”

“Oh, shit,” mutters Grayson.

If this is how Zeke responds, Dorian will be a problem.

2

VIOLET

“Violet!”

Dorian’s voice roars through the house and I blow air into my cheeks, continuing to towel dry my hair after showering and changing. I’m not sure where the guys are—Zeke begrudgingly agreed to find them spare shirts and told them to stay put. I hope he locked the door to stop Dorian storming into the drawing room.

I don’t need my keen hearing to know Dorian’s marching towards my room and brace myself. The door opens, handle slamming into the wall and, as suspected, his eyes are black with fury—literally.

“Hello, Dorian,” I say evenly.

“What the fuck is happening?” he snarls. “Where are these guys that Zeke told me about?”

“Feeling fortunate that they’re not looking at you in this state.” I wave a hand at him. “They haven’t harmed me in any way, so do not touch them.”

But is Grayson safe? When I explained I’d take the four of us to my family’s home using a spell, Grayson finally snapped out of his trance and suggested we leave him behind at the lodge. To be honest, I was tempted, still rather annoyed with Grayson’s stupidity, but as the girl who half-killed a shifter, I can’t really judge him.

“Zeke said you died.” Dorian steps forward and hesitates before dragging me into his arms, something he hasn’t done, nor been allowed to do, for years. Oddly, he smells like Eloise’s sweet perfume. Evidently, they hug a lot. I clench my teeth.

“Why this overreaction?” I say, face squashed against his chest. “I’m alive.”

“Overreaction?” His voice rises and I suck my lips together—I’m making this worse.

I breathe as he releases me, only to find myself wrapped in Eloise’s arms instead. “Violet. Are you okay?”

Good grief.

I manage to extricate myself and step backwards, searching my dresser for a hairbrush. “I’m fine. My chest is a little sore, and I’m rather hungry.”

“Chest? Why?” Dorian’s eyes drop to my wound, now covered by a fresh black sweater. Has Zeke not told him anything?

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