Page 48 of House of Royals

So, with him out of the way, I spend the day planning my future. Because once again, I’ve just been waiting for the House to take control. It’s time I take matters into my own hands.

At ten o’clock, after the sun has gone down, I walk down to the garage. There’s a row of hooks that hold the keys. I grab the ones for the Jeep, because it’s the least intimidating of all the vehicles.

The engine growls to life, and I carefully back out of the garage. With every day I spend here, I’m feeling more like things are mine. Like it’s okay to touch and use them. I’ve been here for exactly a month now. I don’t get lost in the house anymore. I know where things are. I’ve made a mess in my room, walked through the house naked. I’m feeling at home. This is the house my father lived in and where I should have grown up. The Conrath house feels like it was where I was supposed to end up all along.

The night is quiet and incredibly dark with the moon nothing more than a tiny sliver. I turn onto Main Street, drive a quarter of a mile, and take a left at the bakery. The road stretches on, through the swamp. And then there’s the decaying, half-ruined House. I park right in front of the steps and climb out.

I knock on the front door three times and wait. I’m nervous, that’s without question. But it’s time I grow a backbone.

One of the Bitten I remember from my last visit opens the door. For a second, black veins surface on his face and his eyes brighten to a glowing yellow.

“I want to speak with Jasmine,” I say, sounding confident, despite the immediate threat. I shove my way past him, pulling a stake from my purse.

He gives a small hiss when he sees it, but takes a step back. He’s recognized me now, and I have no doubt he knows what it would mean if he kills me.

“Wait here,” he says with disdain in his voice.

My palms are slick with sweat and my heart is racing. I slip the stake back into my purse. I stand there waiting, listening to the sounds of the House. Cameron and Trinity sound like they’re playing a game somewhere. There’s this metal singing sound I can’t identify. And then there’s a small scream somewhere upstairs, followed by a wet ripping sound.

Now I know where Markov is.

Movement to my right catches my eye.

The door to the library is cracked, and just inside I can see Christian. His fangs are deeply sunk into a woman’s neck. Veins sprout out onto Christian’s face, his eyes glowing. He takes one more pull and releases her. With control and careful movements, he lowers her to the ground.

The breath must catch in my throat because suddenly he looks up.

A smile crosses his face and he wipes a thumb at the blood under his lower lip and sucks it clean.

“Don’t worry,” he says as he walks out into the foyer. “She’ll wake up in about an hour. The House had need for another Bitten.”

“Oh,” is all I manage.

He gives me another one of his smiles and starts up the stairs.

“Alivia.” I look up as Jasmine rounds the corner. She has a pleasantly surprised smile on her face. “I wasn’t expecting you this evening.” But there’s that annoyance hidden in her voice that says she didn’t summon me, so why am I here?

“I know,” I say, taking a quick, deep breath. I tell myself that I am technically a Born Royal and this ismyHouse. I am ruler over her. “I wanted to discuss some terms with you.”

“Terms,” she repeats, a wary expression in her eyes.

Micah rounds the corner, and he stares me down coldly with his arms folded across his rather defined chest. And then comes Lillian, who doesn’t look annoyed to see me.

“What kind of terms?” Jasmine continues.

“The terms of me claiming this House,” I say.

All three of them grow silent and serious. Jasmine is thrown off, angry, surprised, maybe a little bit relieved. I’ve turned the tables on her, invadingherlife and imposingmywishes on her, and she doesn’t know how to take my assertion.

“Let’s talk,” she finally responds. She extends her hand out toward the library.

I walk through the doors, and I’m shocked to see that everything looks back to normal. Maybe even better than it was before. The windows seem to have been replaced, covered once again. The bookshelves are repaired. There’s no pool of blood on the floor. Only one stain on Jasmine’s chair.

I’m tempted to sit in it, just to piss her off, but then I remember what she is, and I don’t really want to die and resurrect tonight.

I choose to stand instead.

Jasmine sits in her chair. Micah sits beside her. Lillian sits on the couch and folds her hands elegantly over her lap.

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