House of Royals(47)

“That’s fair,” Lillian says. “You should take her up on her offer.”

“You lack ambition, my child,” Markov says. I look over at him. He’s staring me down with that sly, scary smile of his. “You’ve been given the world on a silver platter, but you do not wish to partake.”

“I agree to your terms,” Jasmine quickly cuts him off. She doesn’t want anyone planting any seedling ideas of power in my head. “The House will leave you be until January first. In exchange, you will claim the House and leave me to continue doing what I’ve been for the last fifteen years.”

I step forward and extend a hand toward her. She stands, as well. Her eyes are cold and serious and she searches me. It’s not hard to tell she’s a woman who’s been betrayed and stabbed in the back, and she’s done the same to others. She’s evaluating if I’m the same kind of person.

She takes my hand and shakes it.

When she releases it, I turn and head for the doorway. I pause though, turning back. “How are Trinity and Christian?”

“They’re fine,” Lillian says. She stands, as well, and crosses toward me. “It was a rough couple of hours, but they’ve both fully recovered.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I’ve been worried about them.” I look at Jasmine when I say this. And she’s trying hard to cover the annoyance under her skin with a pleasant smile.

“Goodnight,” I say, smiling back at her. Without another word, I turn and walk back out the front door.

Jasmine may be a tri-polar queen with an iron fist, but I won’t be pushed around.





I’VE GOT THREE AND A half months until my life changes forever. Literally. I could sit here and wait for it. I could worry my time away over it. I could have sleepless nights as I think about saying goodbye to the sun, how blood is going to taste, how sharp my fangs will be.

Or I can keep living, right up to the very last second.

“You’ll be here every mornin’ at four?” Fred asks.

I nod. “I’m already used to the schedule,” I say as we sit at the back of the bakery. The floor is covered in a fine dusting of flour. The air is heavy with the scent of dough. Fred, the large man with the darkest skin I’ve ever seen, has dried and cracked hands from the constant exposure to baking elements and endless washing. “So I promise it won’t be a problem.”

Fred, the owner and namesake of the bakery and coffee shop—Fred’s—nods. “I need someone to help me Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays. If that’s good for you, I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

A huge grin breaks over my face and I nod. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate the opportunity.”

He just chuckles at me and shakes his head.

I show up the next morning at five minutes to four, bleary eyed, but ready to bake. Fred doesn’t waste one second putting me to work.

And I’m happy to find that I’ve lost no skills in the last month that I haven’t been working. When Fred sees that I can handle myself, he assigns me the scones, the cookies for the afternoon, and of course, the dishes.

At six-thirty, when the shop opens, a few people start trickling in. Getting their breakfast on their way to work. Grabbing coffee, brewed by the self-proclaimed master, Tina. Fred helps the customers while I work in the back.

At ten, I’m just bringing out the sheet of snickerdoodle cookies when I hear my name called from the door. I look up to see Sheriff McCoy walking in.

“Are you workin’ here?” he asks with a look between a scowl and confusion.

“Yeah,” I say as I slide the cookies onto the display rack.

“Why?” he asks in bewilderment.

“Because why not?” I resist spitting the words out. Barely.

More customers wander into the shop. I’m surprised at how busy it is in here, considering how small the town is. I haven’t been up front until now, but I’ve been hearing the foot traffic all day.

“Fred, who’s this lovely young woman helping you out today?” a man in construction garb asks with a flirtatious smile as he walks up to the counter. He’s followed by a whole crew who starts ordering coffee.

“This is, uh…” Fred says as he takes money from a customer and checks them out. “Alivia Ryan. She’s new in town. And one hell of a baker.”

“New in town,” the man says with an approving smile. “Don’t get too many of them types here.”

Luke gives the guy a disapproving look. “Leave her alone, Dallas.”

“What?” Dallas says, with an innocent expression. “I was just bein’ friendly.”