My ass was sore and my patience was wearing thin.

Keeping my ear pressed to cool wood, I listened to furious footsteps beyond the room where I'd hidden away. When I recognized the male voice muttering a long string of curses, cold wrath made my fingernails curl like claws against the door. I wanted to annihilate Jett Crowther on instinct. A few minutes later the familiar pace of Graysen's leggy stride on stone reverberated within my inner ear as he walked past, his footsteps fading away as he retreated deeper into his family home.

Shame scorched my cheeks for allowing Graysen to witness a very real moment when he'd barged into the bathroom with his obsessive need to right the soap and the facial bottles scattered over the pebbled floor. I'd allowed myself one girl-moment to bask in that glorious kiss and simply be honest with myself. He was the only person I'd ever kissed and despite all of his ruthlessness, his hard and demanding lips had electrified every cell in my body. And godsdammit, he saw the exhilaration that widened my grin and had me stamping my feet because I couldn't contain my delight.

With the Crowthers' departure from the library, I gave Graysen two minutes before I cracked the door open and peered out.

No one. Good.

I needed to start on my escape plan and there was no reason to wait. I couldn't rely on manipulating Graysen to set me free, I had to find another way to escape his family.

My plan was simple. I needed to go through the digital files on the library's computer and see if I could find site plans within the system or find a book that outlined the layout of the Keep. Hopefully, the structural layout would shed light on their escape tunnels. Every mansion had them. We'd be stupid not to, especially with the bloody feuds that arose between Houses, and the Crowthers were extra wily. They'd have a way to flee their estate. The Heart of the Keep was ancient, and from what I'd seen of the carving in the Great Hall detailing the original structure, it comprised the library as well as Graysen's tower. I was willing to bet there was an escape tunnel somewhere right there.

Crouching down, I quickly scooped up the blue cleaning cloths I'd used to block the internal light from leaking beneath the bottom of the door. Placing them back on the metal shelves, I turned off the closet's light and slipped out the door. My heart skittered nervously as I slunk across the open hallway like a shadow. Sage hunkered low. His wraith fur wavered like smoke as he silently stalked at my heel.

When Graysen had left our residences, I'd waited an impatient hour before throwing on a dress and winding a shawl around my neck and shoulders to ward off the chilly air. Borrowing one of his messenger bags, I'd tucked the notebook I kept hidden beneath my mattress inside one of its pockets. Thankfully, Graysen had kept his earlier promise that I was free to roam the estate. With my chin held high, I simply walked past soldiers on patrol and the odd servant, and crossed the inner courtyard to the main entrance into the Crowthers' home. I'd turned a steely gaze upon the sentry. Without a word, he opened up the massive door, and I sauntered inside the Keep as if I had every right to be there.

I'd spent the last hour hidden in a utility closet across from the library, waiting for the godsdamned Crowthers to finish up so I could sneak in. I had no idea what they were doing and they'd taken fucking forever to leave. I'd sat on a mini step-ladder, my ass aching from the prolonged position as I used the time to scribble down everything I'd learned today while Graysen had escorted me around the Keep. I'd noted the hallways I traveled, the servants' apartments, the Great Hall and library, and even the shared garden. A silent sigh escaped my throat. There was so much of the Keep and the estate I didn't know.

Yet, here was a chance to find out a little bit more.

The heavy door to the library swung open as I pushed against it and ducked inside, my bare feet quiet on the cold stone floor. The cream shawl draped over my shoulders gently swayed, and the messenger bag rubbed against my hip with my stealthy movements. Moonlight flowed through the stained-glass mural cut into the wall up high. The darkness behind the colored glass muted the side of sunshine and brought to life its polar opposite. The glass night sky was richer with the black night of autumn staining it a deep violet. The artist's interpretation of the moon and stars seemed almost real, almost as if I could reach up on my toes and pull the starlight down and have it dance upon my fingertips.

Sage and I padded between tall rows of bookshelves. The smell of paper and knowledge itched at me to pull a book out and soak up its words. As I neared the end of the row, beyond it, I was given a partial view of antique seating gathered around a long table lined with frosted lamps. The collection of wooden chairs, spanning eras and cultures, was charming in its arrangement. And for a painful moment, it reminded me of the cottage beside the lake with its cheery colors and chipped crockery.

It was just as I'd stepped out from between the rows when I heard the noises—a soft sweep of feet shifting on woolen rugs, the rustle of parchment, a dull thud of a book closing. My gaze swung wide and locked on the back of a man the same moment he realized he wasn't alone. His bowed head snapped straight.

Sage hunkered low and prowled forward. His thin black lips framed vicious teeth as he released a spine-tingling growl.

The stranger spun around, wide-eyed, a book in his hands.

Pure rage exploded and raced across my skin in chilling waves. "GET THE HELLS OUT!" I bellowed.

Seriously, enough. Get the fuck out!

I hadn't waited forever to be denied the library. And I certainly couldn't investigate the space for an escape tunnel if he was here.

Sage erupted into ferocious barking. Saliva whipped away from his fangs as he surged forward. The man jerked back at my fast-approaching wraith-wolf. The book jostled in his fingertips and fell to the ground with a loud thump. "Holy—"

Whatever else he was about to say was drowned out by Sage's savage baying as he was bailed up against the table. The stranger held his hands up, leaning as far away as he could from Sage's fangs snapping within reach of a leg.

I let Sage scare the hells out of him for a full minute before I quietly spoke his name, commanding my wraith-wolf to stand down.

Sage listened. His barking and growling ceased immediately, emptying the library of sound. Though Sage slowly backed off to return to my side, he kept his silvery eyes fixed on the man.

The stranger blew out a long breath of relief, a hand splayed across his chest as he sagged against the edge of the table. "Oh my gods, I thought I was going to be torn apart and eaten alive." His brown eyes met mine, full of apology. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." His foot shifted and his arm rose as if he was about to move toward me offering a handshake, but I didn't give him the opportunity.

My heartbeat spiked with the flash of panic billowing through my chest. After Danne, being in close proximity to a male I didn't know made me incredibly uneasy. I jabbed my finger at him. "You—stay right the fuck there!"

The stranger startled. "I-I-I..." His gaze darted about the library, and he half-waved a hand awkwardly as if searching for the words to explain himself. "I didn't expect...This is really..." He suddenly canted forward into a deep bow. It was so ingrained in the Houses to hold to tradition when meeting a member from the Great House, yet the gesture pissed me off and shifted my alarm into something more manageable—anger.

"Don't fucking bother," I snapped. Because why the hells should he?

He slowly straightened and stared wide-eyed, seemingly taken aback at the vehemence in my bitter tone.

Silence sat heavily between us as well as unease as he shifted from foot to foot, apparently unsure of what to say or do. The air carried with it a woodsy scent of burning wood and warmth from the fireplace, along with spicy notes of whisky. White light spilling from a reading lamp crept over his shoulders and the dying flames from the hearth cast amber across one side of his tall figure. The book he'd been reading was splayed open at his feet on the rug, its leaves dusted in gold.

He was good-looking, I had to admit, with short hair the same color as his eyes, a dark rich brown sparkling with bronze and currently brimming with curiosity and some other emotion that I couldn't decipher. His gaze ran across my messy bun—a halo of fuzz and ringlets—the cream shawl wrapped around my neck that hid the collar of rope, and skimmed down my too-large dress to the tips of my bare feet.

Sage kept close as I approached, wanting to get a better look at him too. The stranger's navy suit conformed to a lean physique. He appeared to be my age, but I couldn't be sure with the beard, which wasn't quite a proper beard but the beginning of one. The long bristles were neatly trimmed and cut across the hollows of his cheeks. He seemed pleasant enough, with an open face, full lips, and faint creases feathering from his eyes as if he smiled a lot, but I'd had dealings before with men whom I'd thought to be safe and easy-going, and that hadn't worked out well for me.

"Who are you?" There was something familiar about him that tingled the back of my mind. And judging by his uniform he worked for another family, not the Crowthers. Maybe he could help me.

His gaze snapped up and a crooked smile bloomed on his mouth. Just as he parted his lips to reply, an abrupt noise crashed through the library of the door being shoved open along with a high-pitched yapping, which silenced him. Sage loosened a low growl and bounded in front of me just as someone arrived in a blur of speed.

"Dustin Reed, right?" came a furious voice behind me. My heart erupted into a nervous creature to hear that menacing tone as the owner continued to speak. Shit. Jett. "You arrived at the same time as Aunt Addie's retinue and then promptly lost this."

I swiveled around.

Jett's upper body twisted from side to side as he wrestled to keep hold of a small angry dog who lunged, yapping and growling, wanting to bite his face off. Behind him, a soldier in black fatigues approached in a quick stride and it looked as if she was carrying some kind of luggage. An overnight bag, perhaps.

It suddenly fell into place where I'd seen Dustin before. This was the man I'd spotted arriving with Graysen's Aunt Addie. I'd only snatched a broad brushstroke of his features, a glimpse of brown hair and brown eyes, but now I had finer details.

Dustin hurried forward, reaching for the little dog. "Ah, Fluffy. I was looking for you," he gently scolded the Lhasa Apso as he took him from Jett. The little dog struggled in Dustin's arms, continuing to yap and snap its tiny teeth at Jett. I stifled a grin. Fluffy, much like Sage, was an excellent judge of character.

I tugged on Sage's tail, gently urging him to back away.

My wraith-wolf was on edge with Jett's appearance but also intrigued with Fluffy.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Crowther," Dustin apologized, running a hand down Fluffy's coat of long, bristling fur, trying to calm the aggressive dog. "He got away from me. I got lost looking for him and found myself here." He swept an awestruck gaze over the Crowthers' impressive collection of books. "I love libraries. The smell of books is the best."

I agreed.

My startled gaze darted to his, and as if he recognized a kindred spirit he shared a quick grin with me.

Jett was too distracted by the dog, still growling and snapping at him, to notice. "Luckily for Fluffy the Fourth," he hissed. "I found him in my wing before he chewed through every fucking cushion I owned!"

Dustin squatted down and pulled a small collar from his jacket pocket. "Yes, he does seem to enjoy cushions," he replied while collaring the spitting-angry dog. The moment he snapped a leash on Fluffy's collar and let him go, the little dog raced toward Jett.

"Shit!" Jett yelped, skipping out of reach. The range of the leash tugged at Fluffy and he strained against it, clearly wanting to sink his teeth into Jett's ankle.

I plastered a hand over my mouth as it was getting really hard not to laugh. So far Jett hadn't even spared me a glance. He was too fixated on the tiny dog trying to take a bite out of him.

Jett leveled an irritated glare at Dustin and threw a hand toward the aggressive Lhasa Apso. "Fluffy doesn't like us and we don't like Fluffy. Which my aunt knows, so why is he here?"

Dustin unfolded his body to stand. "Mrs. Lyon sent me ahead of her. She's waylaid on business—"

"And out of contact so I can't rip into her for being so godsdamned sneaky." Jett interrupted with a scowl. "Because we both know why Aunt Rosa sent Fluffy here to wait for her."

Dustin gulped. "Mrs. Lyon thought while Fluffy and I await her arrival, I could assist Miss Crowther with the family reunion—"

Jett cut him off. "No fucking way!" He drew in a deep breath and then exhaled it on a sigh. Briefly pinching the bridge of his nose, he dropped his tone to one a little calmer but loud enough to be heard over the yapping. "Listen, we love Aunt Rosa, but she's a control freak with parties, and right now my sister is on top of everything."

"Mrs. Lyon does love planning parties."

"A little too much," Jett volleyed back. His lips pinched thin as he dragged a hand over his forehead before dropping it to his hip. "The last one she organized for us, she had the idea of breaking the world record for a Baked Alaska and when flambéing it, she set the fucking Banquet Hall on fire." He flung an arm wide. "A few years back she coerced us into borrowing circus performers because she wanted some ethereal theme for my sister's tenth birthday. She wanted fireworks in the background while they flew across the sky on swings or twirled on ribbons as if they were fucking faeries or something. The carnage..." he breathed, eyes wide and faraway as if revisiting the moment. "It resulted in a massive cover-up, never mind the psychological damage done to my little sister when the fireworks went haywire and two of them fell and broke their godsdamned necks."

Jett began to pace. The series of chains clipped into his belt and looped around a hip jingled with his furious movement. "And don't get me started on the time she wanted to create her interpretation of David Lynch's Red Room. Hours, days, and weeks of being shoved into suits to find the perfect one with the perfect cut. They all looked the fucking same. The same," he hissed, swiveling to a halt to lean his upper body forward and stab a finger at Dustin. "And then the fucking photoshoot with us all posed in stupid positions with stupid props on a set crafted of things entirely red. It fucked up my sight afterward. I couldn't see anything without a veil of red for months!"

Holy hellsgate...

I wanted to sit back with a bowl of popcorn and watch this all go down. Jett was on a ranting roll.

Who the hells was Aunt Rosa? I loved her already for messing with the Crowthers. Rosa Lyon? Could he mean Rosa Lyon who was married to Harding? The Lyons were a lower hunting house.