The Blood Hound Pact

Chapter Fourteen

If Silas thinks I am going to spend the next week hiding in the servant’s wing like a Victorian orphan, he has clearly forgotten who I am. I spent three years in the city learning how to win arguments with people twice my age and four times my tax bracket. A blonde wolf in designer heels is not going to scare me off.

I am currently standing in the kitchen, leaning against the marble island while wearing the shortest silk bathrobe I own. It is barely mid-thigh, a soft champagne color that makes my skin look like it’s glowing under the recessed lighting. I am slowly stirring a cup of tea, waiting.

The front door chimes, followed by the sound of Silas’s low voice and the clack-clack-clack of high heels that definitely don't belong to me.

"The estate is impressive, Silas," a feminine, melodic voice rings out. It’s Seraphina. "Though the air is a bit... crowded. I can still smell the human presence. We should probably have the carpets deep-cleaned before the courtship dinner tonight."

"The 'human presence' has a name, Seraphina," Silas’s voice is tight, a warning note vibrating in his chest. "And she is staying in the west wing. You won't have to see her."

"Oh, I’m sure," she titters.

I take a long, slow sip of my tea just as they round the corner into the kitchen. Silas stops dead in his tracks. Seraphina, who is draped in a white cashmere coat that probably cost more than my apartment, looks like she just swallowed a lemon.

"Ivy," Silas growls, his eyes darkening instantly. "What are you doing? I told you to stay in your quarters."

"I was thirsty, Silas," I say, giving him a sweet, innocent smile that I know is driving him crazy. I shift my weight, letting the robe slip just a fraction an inch higher on my leg. "And the tea in the west wing tastes like cardboard. I figured you wouldn't mind if I used the 'Alpha-grade' kettle."

Silas’s gaze is glued to my legs. I can see the pulse jumping in his neck. The s*x magnetism is back with a vengeance, thick enough to stall an engine. He looks like he wants to wrap me in his coat and carry me upstairs, or perhaps just bark at me until I run away.

"You must be the ward," Seraphina says, stepping forward and looking at me with undisguised contempt. "I am Seraphina. Silas’s future partner. It’s lovely to meet the help."

"I’m the legal intern, actually," I say, not backing down. "And the 'help' is currently making tea. Would you like a cup? I hear chamomile is great for settling nerves. You look a little... tense."

Seraphina’s eyes flash a dangerous silver. "I am perfectly fine, thank you."

"Ivy, go back to your room," Silas says, his voice sounding like a rusted gate. "Now."

"Fine, fine," I sigh, putting my cup down. I walk toward them, making sure to brush past Silas just a little too closely. I feel the static shock as our shoulders touch, and I hear a low, guttural sound catch in his throat.

As I reach the doorway, I turn back. "Oh, Silas? I think I left my favorite book in your study. The one about 'Ancient Pack Laws and the Irrelevance of Tradition.' I’ll swing by later to grab it. Don't wait up!"

I practically skip down the hallway, leaving a stunned silence behind me. I can practically hear Silas trying to explain to Seraphina why his ward is wandering around in a silk robe at two in the afternoon.

"That was a ten out of ten for dramatic effect," Cassian whispers, appearing from the shadows of the hallway. He is leaning against a suit of armor, looking delighted. "Did you see the way his pupils dilated? He’s about five minutes away from losing his mind."

"He deserves it," I say, crossing my arms. "He wants to pretend I’m a ghost? I’ll be a haunting he never forgets."

"Well, the haunting is about to get a lot more crowded," Cassian says, his expression turning serious. "Silas has to take her to dinner at the club tonight. It’s a public show of courtship. Every high-ranking wolf in the county will be there."

"Then I guess I need a dress," I say, a slow smirk spreading across my face. "Something that screams 'uninvited guest.'"

"You’re going to get us both killed," Cassian laughs. "I’ll have the car ready in twenty minutes."

The rest of the afternoon is a blur of preparation. If Silas wants a slow burn, I’m going to make sure he’s the one getting scorched. I find a dress in the back of the closet that I’ve never had the nerve to wear. It’s deep crimson, backless, and made of a fabric that looks like liquid fire.

By seven o’clock, the house is buzzing. I hear Silas and Seraphina leaving, the heavy front door thudding shut. I give it ten minutes before I head downstairs to meet Cassian.