I sigh.
His next words come out with the tail end of his yawn. “So what’s the plan for today?”
“Plan?” I scoff a little. “The plan is to get the hell out of this creepy place, Tomas. That’s the plan.”
He nods as he sips his coffee. “Perfect. So you’re gonna put the ring on?”
“No. No. I’m not putting the ring on. That seals the deal. Right now I’m in some kind of… in-between. I have not committed to this yet. There’s still a chance I can get out of it.”
Tomas makes a face. It’s an adorable face that says, Yeah. No. Maybe you’re a little crazy. “I don’t think that’s how it works, sunshine. You came through the gate. Grant left. You’re stuck here. The only choice left is to decide how you will be stuck here. With that surrounding you all day and night?” He nods to the fog. “Or the real world on the other side? And if I may make a suggestion? I’d go with option two. Truuuust me. I’ve been there, done that. They all say the same thing on the first day. ‘I’m not gonna put on the ring. I will not take part in this curse.’ But after a few days of the creepy fog, they give in. You should save yourself the trouble and do it now.”
I shake my head as I watch the fog. It’s still coming for me. “No. There has to be a way out.”
“There is,” Tomas agrees. “Free Pell and you’re free too.”
“Another way,” I huff. “One that doesn’t involve unleashing a monster on the world.”
Tomas takes another sip of his coffee and lets out a long, “Ahhh,” after he swallows. Which is so annoying. Then he turns to me—“Well. Good luck with that”—and goes back inside.
Meanwhile, the fog is coming up the steps and the edges of it are starting to take on the appearance of tendrils. So I follow him.
And to my delight, who is coming up the stairs? The monster responsible for all this crap.
I shield my eyes. “For fuck’s sake. Can you please put on some pants?” I don’t wait for him to answer, I hurry over to the apothecary room and slip inside before he can freeze me again and force me to stare at his enormous package.
I close the door, sending a hint that I would like some alone time to think about things, but the monster just comes in after me anyway, apparently unable to read a room.
I turn my back to him. I’m not looking. I refuse to look at him.
“Where’s breakfast?” he growls.
“You tell me. I don’t live here.”
“You’re in charge of breakfast and I’m hungry, slave.”
“First of all”—I hold up a finger, my back to him—“I’m not your slave. I did not put on the ring. I will never be putting on the ring. But even if I did put it on, I would still not be your slave. I answered an ad for a caretaker.”
“An ad?” Tomas says. He’s standing behind the beast called Pell. “That’s… interesting.”
“Caretakers make breakfast,” Pell says.
“There is no food in my cottage… so…”
“Oh, there’s a kitchen,” Tomas offers brightly.
I turn to him, still keeping my back to the beast, and shoot him a look. Whose side are you on?
He just shrugs. “I’ll show you where it is. What’s today? Sunday?” He cocks his head at me. “We usually have pancakes and bacon on Sundays. And I’m fucking starving. I feel like I haven’t eaten in centuries.” He rubs his hands together. “So let’s do this.”
“I would like to be served in the dining hall,” the beast adds.
“Listen.” I point my finger at Tomas. “You’re a traitor. And you”—I hook my thumb over my shoulder at the monster—“can get your own damn breakfast. I’m staying right in this room so I can look for the out clause.”
I turn my back to both of them now and walk over to the nearest bookshelf to peruse the titles.
There’s a moment of awkward silence and even though I don’t turn to check, I imagine they are sending each other looks. Unspoken-word looks. They are having a whole conversation about how to ‘manage’ me behind my back.
Finally, the beast says, “Perhaps we should start this day with the rules.”
“Fuck your rules,” I mutter. “You and your rules—”
But that’s as far as I get. Because he puts that freeze spell on me again.
My hand is reaching for a thick volume on the shelf in front of me when this happens. There is not enough room for the beast to maneuver into my line of sight, but he does it anyway, his hard, muscular stomach pressing against my chest. Then he places his fingertips under my chin and forces my head to look up at him.
There is nothing I can do.
I must obey. I can’t even close my eyes. I have to see him.