Page 9 of Wicked Dove
Despite my urge to stand up to the man and defy him, the sparkle in his eyes shows me he’s counting on me to do exactly that.
I flop into my seat, crossing my arms over my chest as I glare at him.
“What now?” I mutter, eager to understand what on Earth is actually going on.
“You killed a man.” My lips clamp shut, causing him to roll his eyes. “You don’t need to confirm or deny it. I already know because the moment you did, you relinquished a dormant spell that unleashed your supernatural abilities.”
“I did what now?” I blurt, tilting my head at him, but he continues talking as though I haven’t spoken at all.
“In doing so, you pinged your location to us, hence your presence here.”
“Pinged my location? Did you have my cell phone number or something?” I ask with a frown. I never give my number out, not even to subscribe to things online, because I’m broke as hell and don’t need a ten-percent-off code when I can’t afford the other ninety. Besides, it’s nothing more than a dealer's best friend—a throw away—all it does is send texts and make calls, and I left it at home.
“Are you actually this dumb, or are you just choosing not to listen to me?” he snaps, his jaw ticking with aggravation as he laces his fingers together on the table between us.
“Did you just call me dumb?” I gape in disbelief.
“You did drop out of high school.”
I huff, my fingers tingling with rage as I narrow my stare. “I didn’t drop out because I’m dumb, asshole. I dropped out because I’m smart.”
He gives me a pointed look, but I bite my tongue, refusing to explain myself to some guy who doesn’t deserve to know the truth. Instead, I sigh, leaning back in my seat and crossingmy legs at the ankles. “How about we get back on track? You’re not making any sense about immortals, spells, and pinging whatever. Maybe repeat yourself as if you’re talking to a kindergartener. You know, since I’m so dumb and all.”
He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before speaking. “The Sanctum is the governing body of the supernatural world, Elodie Blackwood, and you just bought yourself a one-way ticket to Hell.”
“Can I get a refund?” I ask, lifting my hand with a nervous smile on my lips.
“Do you always deflect with humor?” he asks, the question deeper than I expect, but I shake it off.
“It’s called trauma. Do you have any?”
He shakes his head. “You’re on trial, Miss Blackwood.”
“Trial? What for?”
“Are you forgetting the part where you killed someone?”
I lift my hands in surrender. “It was a freak accident. He was going after my friend. Could you please tell me where my friend is, and then I can leave? You said I wasn’t being arrested, so let me go,” I insist, almost pleading as he stands up.
The mere mention of Walker has my chest hollowing out with concern.
His muscles bulge as he plants his hands on his hips, his gaze darkening. “The only way you’re leaving is in a coffin or into our care.”
I rear back in surprise at his words. “You cannot be serious. This has to be a joke, right? If you’re not arresting me, then I can get the hell out of here. This is definitely a joke. Did Walker put you up to this?” I push to my feet, matching his stance as I glare at him. “Supernaturals aren’t real. Dormant spells aren’t real. None of this is real!” I yell in frustration.
A snarl curls his lips as he leans forward, pounding his fists on the table so hard that the floor beneath my feet vibrates. But that’s not what makes me tremble. It’s the monster before me.
Gone are the thick cords in his forearms, gone are his narrowed eyes and lanky frame, and in their place stands a black, horned devil-like creature.
Black eyes.
Black fur.
Black pecs.
He snarls, showing his pearly white teeth, and I get the feeling that he wants to see them stained red with my blood.
“Am I… real?” he rasps, taking a step toward me, and I cower backward.
