Page 31 of Twisted Gift

I’m related to Jules.

It doesn’t make any sense.

Or maybe it makes all the sense in the world.

According to Nikolai, Jules was obsessed with me. It’s easy to say the guy was messed up, but never having a real explanation as to why has been difficult to handle.

Jules is—was—my great-great-great-great-grandfather. He was part of the Marshall bloodline—mybloodline.

I slide to the floor, gripping the paper in my hands, and lean against a stack of boxes. I don’t care how dirty the old hardwood is. My knees are shaking so hard, if I hadn’t sat down, I’d have fallen on my ass.

I take a chance of damaging all the progress I’ve made mentally since I became fae and think back to the time I spent with Jules. My breathing hitches as memories whirl to the surface. Jules had me believe he was using me as a pawn against Tristan in the fae war because he cared about me. That might’ve been part of it, but Jules dying at my hand—it couldn’t have been a coincidence. Not with the way he had things set up. I’d been right before when I said he wanted me to kill him—he wanted me to take his place.

Did he think I would continue his work, or did he just want to ensure a Marshall fae was a leader of the fae? Based on the time I spent with him, it’s safe to say the guy was seriously insane. This chilling revelation casts light on some of his motives but also opens up so many more questions I’ll never get answers to.

Jules being a fae relative doesn’t make me feel anything new when it comes to the end of his life. He was evil and had to be stopped. I sacrificed a lot to make that happen, and even though it was what he wanted—maybe even part of his plan. I’m not going to let him get what he wanted from it. By bringing the fae together peacefully, I’m going to do the very opposite.

I pull the box across the floor toward me and tear through the rest of it. There’s nothing else with any mention of Jules inside. Instead of going home, I spend the rest of the afternoon searching through the remaining boxes, but the family tree I have folded in my pocket is the only revelation I find. It might be all I have to go on, but it makes one thing clear: when I didn’t think any of my fae ancestors were left, Jules was there the whole time.

Heading back to Rockdale on the train, I type a short, to-the-point message to Tristan, telling him I’m coming over tonight—alone. We need to talk. He needs to know the truth.

Marisa is standing behind the reception desk at the Westbrook Hotel when I arrive a few hours later. I wave hello on my way to the elevators.

The ride up to the penthouse is uneventful. I’ve had enough ambushes on this damn elevator to last a lifetime...er,eternity. Whatever. I haven’t given much thought to the idea that I’ll live forever. It’s too overwhelming. Living day by day is hard enough right now.

Stepping off the elevator into the simple entryway outside Tristan’s door, I freeze before I get the chance to knock. This is ridiculous. I’ve been here countless times. I’ve even seen Tristan a handful of times since I changed, and yet, my insides are a mess of nerves.

I take a deep breath, trying to build up the will to reach up and knock. Before I get the chance, the door opens, and Tristan stands there, staring at me with a curious expression. He must’ve sensed my presence or heard me out here trying not to lose my shit. His eyes dance with light amusement, making my stomach flip.I miss that. The way he affects me.

“Hi,” I say in a low voice.

“Aurora,” he greets in a smooth, deep voice. “You’ve never struck me as the type to make a booty call.”

My eyes widen. “A what?” I shake my head. “That’snotwhy I’m here.”

His lips twitch. “You texted me,I’m coming over tonight. Alone.”

Okay, maybe thatdidsound a bit like I was coming over for, well,notthe reason I came over.

I cringe. “I meant Nikolai wasn’t coming.”

“Good riddance. There would never be a time or a place where I’d be down for that.”

I can’t help the grin that spreads across my lips. For a moment, I forget why I’m here. “You’re such a smartass.”

“Coming from you, that’s a high compliment.” He leans against the doorway. “You coming in, or are we going to stand out here all night?”

My eyes narrow a fraction. “Not a booty call,” I remind him, stepping past him into the suite. I try to ignore the tingle that shoots up my arm when it brushes his. I pause in the entryway, stepping out of my shoes and leaving them by the door as I’d gotten so used to doing.

“Can I get you a drink?” he murmurs, closing the door before walking toward me.

“Please,” I say.

We end up in the living room, sitting opposite one another on the couches with glasses of white wine in our hands. My eyes bounce around the room as the tightness in my chest holds on. I miss this place. For as much shit that went down here, the Westbrook Hotel—Tristan’s penthouse—became a home to me.Tristan became home to me.

I shove the thought away, but it leaves a bitter film of memory behind. I’m not sure how to jump into the whole,Jules was my fae ancestorthing, so I say, “Allison said you met with the dark fae.”

He wets his lips, nodding. “And you met with your side. How’d it go?”

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