Page 8 of For Dear Life

“Violet,” says Rowan in hushed shock. “Seriously?”

“Yes. Seriously. The lodge is salvageable. The Sawyers are fortunate you were nearby to put out the fire that his witch friend started, Rowan.” Why are all three guys looking at me as if I’m making no sense? “What?”

“The fence comment,” says Eloise. “Seems these boys have a lot to learn about you.”

“Oh.” I wrinkle my nose. “I didn’t do too much damage to the fence.”

This time Leif makes a strangled noise and the choking dark aura around Dorian grows. “This is a complete fucking mess,” Dorian says.

“But good that Violet came to us, right?” asks Eloise and smiles at me.

I smile back. Falsely. I’d hoped Dorian wouldn’t be here and that we could swiftly shower and leave. I fully intended to tell Dorian about events and ask for help, but not like this. I wanted to speak to him alone and in better circumstances, sans blood and injury, once the guys processed events. And without Grayson present.

But at least my father’s showing a modicum of rationality. Or did Eloise have ‘a chat’ with Dorian beforehand?

“And the dead witch.” Dorian’s face goes dark again. “If he’s found in the lodge, that adds another problem. I’ll need to retrieve his remains from the human authorities.”

“Like father, like daughter,” says Leif with a short laugh.

“Yes, I’m very much like my father, as you’re aware,” I say. “And occasionally my mother, now that I have this bond with Rowan.”

“I mean the toe.”

“Toe?” asks Eloise as Rowan hisses at Leif to shut up.

“Oh. Body parts for psychometry.” I shake my head. “Not relevant in this case. Do continue, Dorian.”

“You are a very odd group,” says Eloise.

“They would need to be if they’re Violet’s friends,” comments Zeke.

“We need to get back to the academy tonight because if somebody else finds a single piece of this puzzle, they’ll use it to prove one thing—the Blackwood’s guilt. I need to clear my name. As you said, Dorian, we find out who these witches are, and their connection to Sawyer and Maxwell. Look into Sawyer’s and his wife’s background. Infiltrate the shifters and discover who’s connected to witches either by choice or not.”

“Dorian,” says Eloise softly. “You could make a couple of calls and ascertain if there’re any police reports about Kai or a fire yet.”

“Really? Why are you keen for me to leave the room?” he asks her.

“This is a charged situation, Dorian. Better for you to take time and respond in a logical manner rather than react without thinking. And there’s a lot to think about.”

Dorian turns to her. “Are you sure the reason isn’t because there’s a Petrescu in the room?”

3

GRAYSON

Meeting Dorian would intimidate anybody, even if the hybrid held no ill intent towards them. I’ve faced a lot, but I’m more worried about my safety now than ever in my life.

Minutes ago, Dorian wasn’t subtle about shoving his way into my head and snatching images of me and Violet in the room at the lodge, but I’d hoped he hadn’t picked up anything else about me.

As if.

I stood in a room while somebody practically threw his daughter over a balcony and impaled her to death. Sure, I wasn’t close enough to stop what happened in a split-second and in a chaotic situation, but I was there. A Petrescu at the scene where his daughter died.

The moment plays over and over in my mind: could I’ve stopped her dying? Did I do enough? The fire had too much of a grip on my primal need to get the hell out, distracting me until I wasn’t fully present in the room.

Violet died. She died, and it’s partly my fault. When I thrust my hand through the witch’s ribs and yanked out his heart, he wasn’t the only one who’d filled me with fury. Some of the anger was towards myself, channeled into lashing out at the witch. I didn’t kill him through fear he’d harm me. I ended the bastard because my Petrescu darkness gripped me in a bloody mist, and I took revenge in the most final way possible.

The girl with me now looks less like Violet, damp-haired and make-up free. Her eyes seem bigger and bluer, pale faced tinged by a natural pink, and my nausea rises again. How might this affect her? I take a shaky breath. Violet’s more to me than the blood in her veins; she’s captured me as readily as if she’d pinned me down in a headlock like the shifter earlier.

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