“No,” a gruff voice said from the other side of the door.
Benjamin banged as if he was in a boxing match with the immoveable wood, his tone spiking with fury. “Hide in there all you want, Adam, but the future Chancellor of Avalon needs somewhere safe to recuperate. You’ll open the door for her, so help me!”
“Are all the hotels full? Is there no room at the inn?” Adam replied with too much sarcasm from the other side of the door.
Benjamin was irate. “Rory and Henry are the only people who haven’t given up on you! She visits you every month, and you won’t even open your doors to her the one time she has a need? You’d let her freeze out here?”
“You’re the one who’s letting her freeze. There are hotels not ten miles from here.”
Cordray frowned at Benjamin for driving them to a “safe” house that appeared more like a gargoyle-bedecked haunted castle. Everything was gray and surly, the statues all over the place looking down at them with a clear message of “get out.” The woods they’d driven through were overgrown, the knotted branches twisting in what looked to be painful and unnatural ways. There was an overwhelming ambiance of doom and a life long-since forfeited.
Benjamin wasn’t deterred by the gloom, nor the man behind the door. “Adam, you’ll open this door right now!”
Adam huffed. “You have a car you can drive her away in. If anyone’s going to be responsible for her safety, it’ll be the man who’s on payroll for such things. Rory’s not as delicate as you all seem to think. It’s Stefan and Leah who are fragile, going into hysterics every time their daughter breaks a nail.”
Benjamin stomped over to the car, took out a wooden bat from the trunk, marched over to the mailbox and swung, knocking the whole thing over in one shot. “Had enough?”
When Adam didn’t open the door, Benjamin moved toward the window to the left of the entrance, aiming to break the glass.
“Put that thing down!” Adam bellowed. “How is my castle the place that screams ‘safe harbor’ to you?”
“Because no one would dare come here and risk having to deal with a spoiled brat like you!” Benjamin lowered the bat and addressed the peephole. “The most likely scenario is whoever ordered the attack on Rory is still out there looking for her.”
“And you led them straight to my doorstep?”
Benjamin shot the security camera above the frame a simpering look. “Like you’re afraid of anyone. Let us in, or Rory’s at risk.”
There was a long pause, but finally the lock behind the wood shifted, and the door creaked open two entire inches. “Fine. Keep your paws off the furniture.”
Benjamin exhaled so loudly that his shoulders drooped with relief. “Finally.” Then he turned his chin to address Cordray in a whisper. “Whatever you do, don’t stare.
“What?”
When they moved over the threshold, Cordray didn’t need any further clarification. Adam was easily six and a half feet tall, burly, and had firm command over his domineering gait. That wasn’t what caused a chill to run up Cordray’s spine. Hideous scars that looked akin to a cross between growths and burn marks littered his skin. He was hairy, and the combination of that, plus the growths above his lips which looked almost beastly in nature, made him look like a sideshow medical anomaly.
Cordray had seen photos of Adam in the papers over the years. Everyone knew of the Bachelor of the Year who’d been turned into a hideously deformed monster, but it was a whole different experience to see the owner of Fontaine Mortgages up close. Cordray took a step back, wanting to run Rory far, far away from the man who looked like he ate small children for breakfast. It would be one thing if the deformities came with a sweet disposition, but Adam looked ready to pounce at the slightest infraction.
“What are you staring at?” Adam growled. It seemed everything he uttered came with a slight guttural roughness to it. He was lionish in nature, and Cord entertained the errant thought that Adam was toying with him the way a jungle cat would before the kill.
Cordray cleared his throat, recalling that he’d never once been intimidated by another man. He postured, looking the beast directly in the eyes. “Where am I taking her?”
“Upstairs. Use any room you like in the East wing. You’ll have to forgive the mess. Maid’s off-duty.” He said it like a joke because it was clear a broom hadn’t seen the inside of the gloomy, dusty castle in who knows how long. Then Adam stiffened. “Keep her out of the west wing. That’s off-limits.” He pointed to the east wing. “Rory usually stays in the first room on the right. Her and Henry.”
Cordray knew he shouldn’t ask, but he couldn’t help himself. “She shares a bedroom with Henry?”
Adam’s smile grew sinister at the notion of a wicked game well played as he took in Cordray’s curiosity that was paired with the protective way he held onto Rory. “Why, of course. The Prince of Avondale is the one she’s betrothed to marry.”
Cordray’s mouth went dry, though he knew he shouldn’t care enough to be baited. Everyone knew about Rory’s betrothal to Prince Henry, but the way Adam spoke made it sound like things were still going according to that plan. A wave of jealousy rushed through him, and the candelabra on the curio began to levitate as his frustration grew.
Adam’s eyes grew wide with panic at the oddity, and he dove for the golden candelabra. “No! Don’t mess with my things. This is far more valuable than you could possibly understand.” He clutched the brass to his chest, brushing his hand around the base as if it was his beloved teddy bear.
Benjamin’s eyebrows puckered. “How is your magic doing that? You’re not due for another pill until next week. Am I wrong on that?” He frowned. “I must’ve marked my calendar wrong. Your magic’s starting to come back, so keep tight inside those gloves.”
“What sort of riff-raff is Rory taking pity on this time?” Adam looked Cordray over with a snarl of distaste. “Usually I’m the only man in her life that makes people’s skin crawl.”
Cordray’s upper lip curled at the affront, but he didn’t respond. Instead he held Adam’s haughty gaze for a few beats before moving past the entryway toward the staircase. Though Rory had been light as a daisy moments before, now she felt heavy, like he was carrying a sack of bricks that didn’t belong to him, up the wide and winding staircase. Cordray couldn’t even be enchanted by the marble floors or five-foot tall portraits hanging in dusty gold frames. The castle was cobwebby and cold, and he felt the sting of it deep down in his bones. He’d asked out an engaged woman. He was carrying her to the room she’d shared with the actual Prince of Avondale, apparently. Though he should’ve still felt the worry of the attack, instead he felt hollow. He wanted to trust her, and part of him still did. Even so, his mouth was drawn in a tight line as he moved through the massive home.
He didn’t say a word until Benjamin led them to a room that had slightly less dust in it, but still looked unused. When the door shut behind them, Cordray laid Rory on the queen-sized bed. There was something precious and intimate about the act of laying her down. He glanced at Benjamin, who was punching a number into his phone with a worried look on his face. Cordray worried she might get cold, so he lifted Rory up again. This time, he kicked back the dingy seafoam green satin comforter, and laid her down atop the sheets. It was too drafty in the room for her to be uncovered, and the guilty part of Cordray wanted to know what it would feel like to tuck the beauty into bed. He’d never entertained that desire before with a woman, but the longing to do something so matrimonially intimate raged in his veins.
Rory looked like a porcelain doll, laid in the sheets, her midnight tresses spilling onto the pillow in soft waves. He knew he shouldn’t lean over and brush those few stray locks from her forehead, but his hand moved on its own, sweeping her hair as easily as she’d swept him away the first day he’d met her.
Benjamin cleared his throat as he held his phone to his ear, letting Cordray know he had an audience.
Cordray took the comforter clean off the bed and moved into the hallway, shaking the dust off to keep her from having to breathe in anything foul. He didn’t look at Benjamin when he reentered and fluffed the green satin over Rory’s unresponsive body. The desire to sit on the edge of the bed was strong, but he settled for pulling up a chair next to her and holding onto her hand.
When Benjamin was in between calls, Cordray found his voice. “Prince Henry should be told that she’s down for the count.”
Benjamin was barely listening, but nodded, motioning to Rory’s purse where her phone lay.
Cordray felt like a creeper going through her purse, and plucked out her phone, scrolling through the contacts until “Henry” came up. It took a few steadying breaths, but finally he called the famous man he’d met a few times, since they were technically neighbors in the woods.
The singing voice that greeted him took all hope of levity from the room. “Rory, Rory! Rory, my love. Rory, my dove. Rory, my… something that rhymes with dove. Glove! You’re my glove, Rory. My one and only glove. No! We’re gloves, because we’re two of a kind, destined to always be together.”
Cordray fought the urge to hang up. “Yeah, this is Cordray Phillips, your neighbor in Helmington Forest.”
There was a brief pause, and then recognition flavored Henry’s tone. “Ah, yes. Good to hear from you, Cordray. What can I do for you? And how did you come upon Rory’s cell phone?”
“Thought you should know Rory was attacked while we were out, and she’s unconscious.”
The song died off, and Henry’s voice grew immediately serious. “What? Is she in the woods now? Who attacked her? Is she alright? She’s unconscious? Does Remus know?”
Cordray’s face felt stony, his heart thudding in confusion. “I’m not sure if Benjamin’s called him, but I can check. We’re not in the forest; we’re just outside the city. Some friend of hers, Adam, mentioned you, so I thought you should know your fiancée’s not doing so hot.” He threw out the word to see if Henry would contradict him.
“Rory’s at Adam’s with you? Adam let in a stranger?”
Cordray was curt. “Whatever. She’s safe here with Benjamin and me, so do what you like with that.”
The sound of Henry grabbing his keys crackled in Cord’s ear. “I’ll be there as soon as… Oh, come on. The attack wasn’t on me! I should be able to go check on Rory. House arrest? Are you freaking kidding me?” He exchanged a few heated words with someone blocking his way before returning to Cordray. “You’re staying there with her? And Benjamin’s there?”
“Yeah. Not as good as her fiancé, but we can handle things over here.”
Henry let out a noise of frustration. “My guards aren’t letting us out of the palace because of the attack on Rory. I’ll have my phone on me, though. Call me the moment she wakes up. The very second. I bet Stefan and Leah are worrying themselves sick right now.” His voice lowered with palpable dread. “Did she prick herself on a needle?”
Cordray felt cold and hollow inside, knowing in just three short months, Rory would be back in a bed for far more dire reasons. “No. Some guy Pulsed her with a hefty dose of Rest, and she passed out. I still don’t totally understand what’s going on.”
Henry’s relief was palpable. “That’s good. You’ll call me the moment she’s awake?”
“Sure.” Cordray hung up, unable to listen to the sound of Henry’s voice another second. He’d never had a problem with the charismatic prince before, but now each word grated on his last nerve. Henry hadn’t contradicted him when he’d referred to Rory as Henry’s fiancée. The papers were always reporting something about them getting together, and then breaking up. The betrothal was off, and then there would be photos of him on bended knee before her, with her face in her hands. Cordray had never cared much for celebrity gossip, but in the past couple weeks, he spent easily an hour online, clicking through page after page of journalists editorializing on whether or not the power couple would end up together.
He looked down at Rory’s hand in his, studying her dainty fingers as he rubbed off a blue ink smudge on the outside of her little finger. The imperfection was endearing to him.
“Engaged,” he whispered, rolling the word around on his tongue to immerse himself in its bitter taste. Cordray ran his thumb over her ring finger, noting the absence of an engagement ring.
When the door burst open, Benjamin frowned at Adam, who walked in without feeling the need to knock. “Get your car out of my driveway.”
“Call a tow truck,” Benjamin groused.
Cordray listened as the two began to bicker, and surreptitiously removed one of his black gloves. He never took them off unless it was absolutely necessary. He hadn’t planned on revealing his true nature ever in the presence of Rory, but when Adam started shouting, Cordray stood, placing himself between Rory and the angry man.
He’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but when Adam neared the bed, Cord was a live wire, ready to attack. “Back up,” he warned the beast in a snarl.
“Telling me what to do will only end badly for you. Get out of the way. This is my house and my bed, so whoever’s resting in it belongs to me.”
Though Adam hadn’t laid a finger on her, Cordray decided that was all the green light he needed. No matter whose ring would end up on her finger, he knew he couldn’t stand idly by while aggression piled up around her. She was too sweet, too gentle. She was too important to the Foundation, and to the whole of Avondale.
She was too important to him.
It was a shove – a simple act of aggression that, under normal circumstances, wouldn’t have amounted to more than escalating a quarrel. But Cordray was well aware of how very not normal his life’s circumstances were.
Though Rory was the one with all the secrets, Cordray had an even bigger one. Pure electricity charged through his palms on command and surged through Adam, thrusting him back with a force far greater than any of them could have anticipated. Had he used two hands, it would have delivered a shot of electricity powerful enough to kill. One hand was for stunning.
Adam shot backward through the exit, banging on the doorjamb before he slammed against the far wall, and then landed with a sickening thud on the floor.