Page 16 of Firethorne
But that wasn’t all.
Damien Firethorne stood on the edge of the woodland too, smoking a cigarette as he stared at me. His eyes were narrowed, his brows knitted, but he had a devilish smirk on his face. Like I’d just stumbled unwittingly into his trap, and he was ready to devour me.
“I heard you were a runner.” He glanced down at my feet and sneered. “Nice to see you came prepared for it.”
I glanced at my feet and grimaced at the tatty slippers I was wearing.
“I wasn’t expecting to run this morning.” I held my head high. I wouldn’t let him intimidate me. “Not until I heard you skulking around, stalking us.”
At first, he didn’t react, just took a slow, long drag of his cigarette, and then he flicked it to the floor, and in a bored tone, he replied, “I don’t know why I’m even bothering to entertain this conversation, but I’ll humour you. What thefuckare you on about?”
“This,” I hissed, throwing the rat in its trap onto the ground at his feet.
He snarled, staring down at the rat, then he peered up at me, grinning like a devil as he said, “A rat? What exactly do you expect me to do with this?”
“You tell me. You were the one who left it on our porch.”
He threw his head back and laughed. Actually, it was more like a cackle, and hearing it irritated me. But I stood my ground and waited to hear his response.
He let his head fall forward, the black, silky threads of his hair grazing his lashes as the cool, couldn’t care less aura radiated from him.
“Why would I leavethatforyou? Do you think I’ve got nothing better to do than leave dead rodents around the estate for the hired help to find?” His grin widened, and he tilted his head. “What makesyouso special?”
“I don’t know. You tell me,” I shot back, bristling with anger in response to his disdain.
“You keep repeating yourself. You do know that, right? Which tells me you have absolutely no idea what you’re on about. But for the record, I’d be careful if I were you.” He took a step closer to me. “You never know who might be lurking around the woods at this hour.”
At that moment, Lysander appeared to the side of us, and Damien muttered under his breath, “And to prove my point, here he comes.”
Then, standing taller and painting a fake smile on his face, he turned towards Lysander and announced, “Brother. Do tell me...” Damien frowned, folding his arms over his chest. “What source of witchcraft pulled you out of bed before midday?”
“I always take a morning stroll,” Lysander replied brightly, but then he peered at the ground and screwed his face up. “What the hell is that?”
“A little gift from our new employee here.” Damien pretended to whisper as he mocked me. “I think these city girls have a warped sense of humour.”
“I think whoever left that on my doorstep has a warped sense of humour,” I spat back.
“Maybe they were giving you a message,” Damien said, turning to pin me with a wicked stare. I held my breath, waiting for him to say something that would incriminate him. Anything that might give him away. But then he said, “They say a dead rat symbolises a warning, like an omen.”
“An omen that we need to employ pest control today,” Lysander butted in, his nose wrinkling as he stared at the dead rodent.
“Indeed.” Damien took a step back. “Or the pests we need to control are closer than we think.” He glared daggers at me, making it painfully clear he thought of me as the pest. Then heturned on his heel and strode away from us, leaving Lysander to stare at the carcass and me to stare at Damien’s retreating form, willing his body to self-combust like my mind currently was from how bloody rude he was.
“I’m sorry you had to see this,” Lysander said, apologising. “I’ll get Beresford to come and dispose of...that.” He pointed at the rat, and then, with a kindness on his face, he stepped closer to me and asked, “Are you okay, Maya?”
I nodded, and when the breeze blew strands of my hair out of place and he reached up to tuck them behind my ear, I froze, not sure how to react.
“You’ve still got your slippers on. Do you want me to walk you back to your cabin?” he asked, but I shook my head.
“No. It’s fine. Honestly. I’ll be okay.”
He didn’t seem happy, and he bit his lip as if to stop himself from arguing his case. Then he nodded, staring at the floor as he said, “I’ll let Mrs Richardson know you’re running a little late this morning. Why don’t you go back home. Take a moment to get yourself together.”
“I don’t have a home,” I blurted out, and I felt tears well in my eyes.
“Yes, you do. Your home is with us,” he said. “Firethorne is where you belong now.”
I didn’t feel that way, but I smiled nonetheless. Lysander did make things slightly better. He was kind.
