Thrill of the Chase (Hunters & Heartbreakers 1)

XII - Wells

^^Above: Rosamund Pike (pictured here as a deliciously twisted Elspeth Catton in Saltburn) as our very own deliciously twisted Zora Selling.^^

Can YOU protect yourself from a Paranormal Threat?

Ten Things You Can Do to Ward Them Off!

5 May.

Sometimes I hate my feelings.

I do hate my feelings. Not for Wilkes, necessarily, because ever since that night in Bath, I wanted to yank him into an alley or a quiet room or behind a door and kiss him right on the mouth. I hated how I felt when I saw him with Marjorie Selling. Of course she was a pretty girl, anyone could see it. That and she was polite. Demure. Sensible. And intelligent without being arrogant. Naomi had pointed out they seemed to like each other, but not necessarily as anything more than friends. Possibly because her envy of Marjorie was much deeper-rooted and far more complicated.

"At least I am not simply a prospect for marriage," Naomi said at breakfast that morning, after my comment about the scene at the gala. "Unlike Miss Marjorie."

I said nothing. For her sake, I hoped my sister would find happiness with someone and not become a spinster because she pines after someone she cannot hope to ever have.

"Do you believe we may break them?" she asked then, nodding at the Selling book on the dining table between us. "The Sellings?"

"They are about as well-positioned as any noble family," I said with a shrug. "Which means I highly doubt it."

"Langdon could," Naomi said.

"I believe it," I said, although I wished it wasn't true. If he entered the Selling fold, we would never get him out again.

Naomi sat forward, but only to pick up the book. She began to leaf through it carefully, which told me she was thinking of something to say.

"I think we need to see the blood-binding for ourselves."

I looked up from spreading marmalade on my toast. "What?"

"You heard me, Wells. We need to see Solomon Selling in action...blood-binding his daughter."

"I hope this isn't because you want to see her suffer," I said. I, unlike Naomi, had seen a trace of fear and guardedness in Marjorie's placid gaze. And those wounds on her hand had been done with such purpose I knew she'd been telling the truth.

"No," Naomi said quickly, although she didn't sound truthful about it. "I just want to see behind that benevolent front the Selling family puts up."

"There's no way to know when the next one is," I pointed out. "We can't just wait around and hope to catch it."

"We could ask Langdon," Naomi insisted. "After all, he is the closest to Marjorie now."

"Naomi, it's a private family affair. I'm sure if it got out, the Selling name would be ruined."

"Since when have you been concerned with family name?" she snapped at me, her temper suddenly flaring. "Considering you seem to be content with what other people think of us."

"What does that mean, exactly?"

"I know you like being dangerous and some kind of dark knight, Wells. But I don't think we need to be that way all the time. I think sometimes we can come into the light."

"And I think you may be letting your jealousy get the better of you," I fired back. "You can stew over all the things Marjorie Selling has that you do not. But if you think for one moment that this is something that can be weaponised, you're mistaken."