Page 36 of Wolfsbane Hall
“I like you in red.”
“Well, red looks good on most blondes,” she snapped back, and her eyes locked once again on James. Possibly the traitor speaking in her ear?
“Oh, this night is going to be a delight.”
Celestine scoffed. “I am sure it will be for you, but mark my words: If you are one of my friends, and you’ve done this to me, I will never speak to you again.”
The air around her sparked with heat, like a blanket coating her skin. The Phantom reacting, of sorts. But it was unclear what the warmth meant. It wasn’t embarrassment, nor was it anger. “As you should.”
“I hate you.”
“And I enjoy you just a little too much.” He chuckled, deep and husky, and the sound vibrated through her body, sparking a feeling she wished would vanish. Lust pooled in her core. One was not supposed to desire their torturer. “I always have and probably always will.”
Celestine shuddered, and gooseflesh skated over her skin.
“Stop flirting with her.” The painting of a grand duke awoke from its slumber, and it was not happy. At the sound of his voice, a star burst to life in Celestine’s chest, filling her with itsburning, energetic force. Her Specter was finally here.
And it mattered far too much that he decided to show up.
Darkness leaked out of the walls and curled around her legs. She physically felt them, like a sexual caress. Her breath hitched, and she clutched the wall to steady herself. She couldn’t fall apart like this in public.
“She’s mine,” the shadows hissed at the other disembodied voice.
Mine.
“So she is.” The Phantom chuckled. “To business, then?”
“Yes, after all this, sticking to business would be the best course of action.” Celestine’s shadow, lingering on the wall, spoke with the Specter’s velvet voice.
A teardrop of sweat dripped down her back, and she swallowed. These enchanters were causing a storm within her body, and she needed to get control of herself.
Focus. Use them. Find answers.
Instinctively, Celestine squinted, searching the room to see what the men were doing. The light caught Dean’s raven hair as he tried to calm down his cousin, Vivian. He had traveled to the commotion to rescue his brother. Despite nearly always having a scowl written on his perfect face, Dean had a far more stable energy than his twin.
None of them seemed remotely distracted; instead, they were all aligned in their resistance to Vivian. None of them felt like they were talking to Celestine, seducing her.
“It’s past time to open your character card, Celestine.” It was the Phantom’s cold voice at the nape of her neck. “This show is rolling forward, whether you choose to accept it or not.”
How did he know that was why she didn’t open it?
“Your character will help you find the answer to yourriddle.”
Celestine crossed her arms. “I don’t want your help, or my character’s.” It wasn’t true, but she felt like being obstinate. Something about him or this moment caused her to fight—if only a little. A change from her usual appeasement strategy.
“I need you to play.” A shadow in the mirror beside her echoed with sound. It was another way to tell them apart. The Phantom didn’t use multiple ways to speak. He was only a floating voice, and that was it. No flash or pageantry. “I need you, Cellie.”
Celestine pinched her eyes shut and rested her head against the wall. These wicked spirits were breaking her. It might not have been their intention, but it was the result.
“Play the game, Celestia.” Rocks crackled, the sound like stones shifting in a vase.
Celestine opened her eyes to see the Specter animating a statue. His narcissistic presence knew no bounds; he had to use various mediums to communicate. To titillate a crowd. But it wasn’t a statue. It was the marble of the floor shifting. The Specter was in everything.
Comforting and terrifying all at once.
“I promise the game will lead you to the truth,” the Phantom said.
Celestine gulped. “What are your promises worth?”
