Page 43 of Wolfsbane Hall
So what happened?
Rich men’s promises were like fairy dust. Beautiful, but not real. Not tangible. Nothing to build a life or a future on. But Everett seemed like he would burn the world down for Margot. Except if that were true, why hadn’t he told his mother about them?
Celestine bit her lip and smoothed down her hair, trying to compose herself and get her appearance back in order. She was quick about it, because she was quite accomplished at returning to parties after a secret rendezvous.
Her eyes caught on her shredded underwear, and Celestine rubbed her face. Fucking wonderful. She kicked them under the shelves. She would be called worse than whore if someone found those.
The door squeaked as it opened, and she crept into the hallway, slowly and quietly clicking the door shut again.
“I would never keep you a secret, Marguerite.” Celestine reeled around to find Dean leaning against the wall, dark authority oozing from him. His arms were crossed, and helooked like an avenging god. “If I had you, I would let everyone know.”
Celestine’s insides tingled until she realized that this, too, was an act. He was speaking to Margot, not her.
The twins both loved the same girl.Well fuck. This was an interesting development. Was that what happened to Margot? The brothers fought over her?
Was that how it ended tragically?
“I wouldn’t keep you a secret either, Celestine.”
Her brows scrunched. Dean couldn’t mean that. He was a creature of dark temptations and wicked games. There was no reason to beintoCelestine for anything other than mental turmoil. Right?
Celestine didn’t know how to make sense of this new world or what was even real. All of it? Everett’s actions were based on her character, but would Dean’s be too?
“We should get back to the party,” Dean said when she still didn’t come up with anything comprehensible to respond with. “We don’t want to miss any of the excitement.”
“Are all these scenes from your past?” The question fell from her lips.
It was coming together. If the murder mystery party would help solve the identity of the Specter, and tonight’s play was all about revenge, then everything was about them and not Celestine. The play was a moment from the Ashbrooks’ past. A moment centered around a French maid and forbidden love.
Was that how the Specter was formed?
Dean’s response was simple. “Yes.”
He pushed off the wall and turned his back to her.
Celestine nearly fell over herself to catch up with him. “And Margot…Marguerite, that’s what you called her, right? She was real?”And a possessive ghost inside my head.
Yes.Margot answered the unsaid question.
Truly?Celestine asked.
Yes.
Not fucking terrifying at all.
“Yes, Marguerite was real.” Dean tapped his fingers together, both distracted and dismissive at the same time.
“And you were both in love with her?”
“Yes.”
Celestine swallowed. “I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?”
“It must have been horrible loving her and not being able to have her.” Celestine wrung her hands. “My sister was ten years older than me when she died, but I can imagine if she were around and we loved the same man, it would feel dreadful.”
Dean swallowed, his eyes swirling with azure fire, but he said nothing else, back to his usual ways.
