CAGED (#3, of Crows and Thorns)

Chapter 33

Clouds crossed overhead and the sunlight filtering through the scaled stained-glass set in the high ceiling dulled to dark mottled greens. The Great Hall dropped several degrees even though I was standing near the twin hearth fires, radiating warmth. Every inch of my body was chilled like a thick draping of morning frost icing a lawn. My heart rapidly pounded a bayan drum inside my chest.

Sage danced on the spot, snapping and snarling as the Crowthers drew nearer. Their footsteps reverberated down the length of the hall and shadows slunk across the adamere floor as if they'd brought darkness with them.

They all appeared casual enough, but for that predatory stride, that cunning that lurked in the depth of their eyes—various violet shades that ranged from the light amethyst of Caidan's to the darker shade of Kenton's.

For one brief moment, I found myself wanting to run behind the man with black eyes and allow him to shield me. But what message would that send?

Besides that fact, I couldn't rely on Graysen for anything.

I was very much alone.

I pushed my shoulders back and met their indifferent gazes as they split apart and circled, not quite pincering me in, but it sure as fuck wasn't too far off.

Surrounded by their tall, imposing figures I was tiny and insignificant. Behind my back, I ran my fingertips together as if rotating through adamere beads. My roots are deep, my strength is stone, my breath the wind. I bow to none.

I was a Wychthorn and I would never let them see me cower.

Raising a hand to my waist, I clicked my fingers at my wraith-wolf, requesting him to back down. Sage took his sweet time, but eventually drew back to my side to stare through slitted eyes at the brothers, his fur hackled and fangs bared.

Kenton moved to my right side, his polished dress shoes making a soft clicking sound on the floor. He was dressed in casual tan slacks, but with a crisp white shirt, the sleeves of which he was rolling up, as if he were going to get down to business and not the kind that ended in an ink-stained signature and a friendly handshake.

The silence was deafening but for the soft crackling coming from the burning logs, and the blood rushing in my ears. The tension in the room was thick and cloying, making my pulse rap faster. Graysen leaned against the wooden table, his head now cocked, staring just above my head, bored, as if I were beneath his interest.

"Enjoying the tour?" Kenton asked me in that deep voice of his.

While I popped a hand on my hip, shrugging a shoulder, I paid close attention to Caidan and Jett's movements as they drew a little closer. Shifting my position sidelong to Kenton, I turned my gaze upon Draxxon's massive head which jutted out from the wall and loomed over one of the enormous oak doors, and then cast an unimpressed glance over the Great Hall. "Somewhat," I replied, with a bored sigh. I waved my hand with a somewhat disdainful gesture as if searching for the right words. "I am looking at extending my real estate portfolio. However," I scrunched my nose. "It's a bit...I don't know... Pretentious and cluttered."