Page 58 of Wolfsbane Hall
A voice floated from inside the grand ballroom. “Well, this is too dreary, and I am bored. Who cares that we all havemotives, means, and opportunity?” Irene said. “That’s the point, isn’t it? In most murder mysteries, everyone has a motive. That’s why the Phantom chose Lorraine in the first place. I say we liven up this party.”
Margot walked to the entrance so she could see the exchange.
“You could investigate the murder, then, instead of complaining about it in here,” Everett said in an exasperated tone. “Or join me in drinking. I don’t care.”
Irene ignored her nephew and focused instead on the other twin. “Dearest Dean, play us a song on the piano.”
“That feels incredibly inappropriate, Auntie.” Dean sighed. “My mother is lying dead on the floor.”
Irene’s attention switched to Everett. “You’re not as good at the piano, but would you deign to play?”
“No.” Everett took a big swig of his whiskey.
Irene pouted like a child and placed her fingertips on the table. “House, please liven up the atmosphere.”
To Margot’s great surprise, the house listened. The house typically only responded to the cast. The guests in attendance didn’t have elixir in their systems and, therefore, couldn’t manipulate it. Yet the house did as she asked. The ghost musicians struck up a jaunty tune, and the ghost couples burst from the walls, dancing the jive.
Was the elixir even necessary, then? Was it all a lie? Margot wouldn’t put it past any of the Ashbrook boys to design a house of enchantments that didn’t even follow its own rules.
But it didn’t matter. Margot had her mission—her rampage—and Vivian would be her next victim. But she wasn’t in the ballroom, so her search needed to continue.
Yet as she lifted her foot to turn on her heel, her gaze touched Dean’s, who was glaring…at her. The force of it felt strong enough to suck her soul out of the vessel. Margot shivered and kept moving. The last thing she needed was to catch that particular man’s attention. At the end of the day, he was the most dangerous Ashbrook.
Unfortunately, he followed her out of the ballroom and into one of the narrow passageways that led to a staircase. So much for avoiding his notice.
Dean slammed her into the wall, his hand tightly around her throat. “Give her back to me.”
“Oh.” Margot cackled, her stomach tingling with amusement. “She’s yours? Well, she’s not home right now.”
“Celine is not mine.”
At the nickname, Celestine’s consciousness snapped back into place, but she was still a prisoner in her mind.
“Sure thing.” Margot stroked her hands like claws down his chest. “I am sure you wouldn’t want her to touch you like this.”
The muscle in his jaw tensed.
“Or maybe like this.” Margot’s finger curled under his belt.
No.Celestine wanted to scream, cry, or do something. The last thing she wanted was to be touching Dean like this without her consent and his. It was mortifying.
“Stop.” Dean slammed Margot once more into the wall and tightened the grip on her throat.
Margot smiled, and her hands stilled, still on his belt. “I like it rough, but does she?”
I do.Celestine tensed.Shit, what the fuck, Celestine? You absolutely are not going to cosign this.
“Oh, she does.” Margot laughed.
No, I don’t.But, appallingly, she did. She liked the fact that Dean was touching her. Margot was right. She was a pathetic, desperate girl who desired men’s attention.
Celestine wanted to pinch her eyes closed and die, but she couldn’t because the demon was still in control of her body.
Dean’s gaze raked over Margot. “If that’s true, let her tell me that herself.”
“As I told you before, she’s asleep.”
“No, she’s not.” Dean stroked his thumb along her jaw, and Celestine’s cheeks heated. “I see her embarrassment on your cheeks.”
