Wicked Villains (Ruthless Villains Book 2)

The carriage jostled as it hit an uneven spot in the grasslands. I braced a hand on the smooth wooden wall to steady myself. Moonlight fell in through the window and glinted against the metal-covered bracers that I had put on in order to hide the fact that I had five tattoo-like rings around my right forearm. At least the bracers were from my own pack. And wearing them did make me feel a bit more like myself.

I glanced up towards where Callan was sitting opposite me, and another bout of annoyance rippled through my chest. When he had brought me into his bedroom, I had been given another golden opportunity to steal the key from him. But I had messed it up. I should have told him that I was jealous. That way, I could have gotten close enough to slip the key from his clothes.

But seeing that dark-haired woman, Tina, in his bedroom had irritated me for some reason, and I had temporarily lost sight of my mission. At least I had learned that Callan couldn’t perform while he had an audience. I wasn’t exactly sure how to use that particular piece of information yet, but at this point, all intel was good intel.

Blowing out a measured breath, I settled back against the cushioned seat again with renewed determination. I wouldn’t mess up next time.

The carriage abruptly dipped to the side again as we hit another bump in the grass.

I slid my gaze back to Callan. “Riding there would have been a lot less bumpy.”

“Right.” He snorted. “As if I’d trust you on a horse.”

Pressing a hand to my chest, I gave him a look of mock affront. “You wound me.”

He huffed out another short breath of amusement.

“We could always have shared the horse,” I said.

“I think two times were two too many.”

“Really? I seem to remember that you quite enjoyed my body moving against yours in that position.”

“What I remember is you handcuffed and powerless before me as I took you to my mansion as a prisoner.” He cocked his head, making a stream of silvery moonlight glint in his eyes. “And I have to admit… that was something I quite enjoyed.”

“I just remember your cock pushing into my ass because I happened to roll my hips a little.”

“Watch that mouth.”

“Or what?”

He pushed out of his seat, though he had to keep his back hunched so that he wouldn’t hit his head on the carriage ceiling. I arched my eyebrows at him as he took a step forward, closing the small space between us. Bracing a knee on the cushioned bench next to my hip, he leaned down over me and placed his hand against my cheek.

His thumb brushed over my mouth, and something dark glinted in his eyes as he locked them on me. “Or I might decide to gag you.”

“Oh you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, I would. So keep that tongue of yours in check and remember who’s in charge.” His fingers drifted down to my jaw. “That goes for this meeting with Grant too. Don’t speak out of turn, don’t do anything to make him think that we aren’t on the same page, and leave the talking to me.”

“That’s quite a lot of demands.”

“Which you have no choice but to obey.”

Rolling my eyes, I clicked my tongue in annoyance. “Fine.”

His grip tightened on my jaw. Eyes that pulsed with command stared me down as he forced my head back against the wall behind me, keeping me trapped in that position with my throat exposed. “Say it.”

I held his gaze, silently swearing my revenge, before blowing out a resigned sigh. “I’ll do as you say.”

A satisfied smirk slid across his lips. “Good girl.”

Damn, I hated what those two words did to my body every time he said them. While Callan released me and sat back down on the bench across from me again, I tried to smother the flicker of dark pleasure that had coursed through my body. Turning my head, I glared out the window instead.

Light shone from up ahead. From Grant’s mansion, it always did. As the carriage drew closer to it, I studied the white stone building that was sprawled across the grass. Most dark mages built their home out of marble, because it made it much more difficult for people to burn it down. But aside from that common trait, Grant’s mansion didn’t look anything like the other dark mages’ houses.

Trees and bushes spread out around the pale mansion in no discernable pattern, and colorful flowers and different kinds of fruits hung from their branches. Everyone else wanted mostly flat grasslands around their home so that they could see attackers coming clearly, but Grant had apparently opted for an entirely different method of protection.

A pair of guards stopped our carriage as we reached the edge of the vegetation. When they saw who we were, they waved us forward without comment.

Bright oil lamps set onto metal poles lit up the grass as we started forwards again. I studied the mass of fruits and flowers in all manners of shapes and colors while the carriage rolled along the path between the trees and bushes.

Harvey Grant was by far the strangest dark mage I had ever met. He wasn’t combative like the rest of us, and he never got involved in fights if he could avoid it. Since he didn’t have magic that was suited for battle, he should have been killed by other dark mages long ago. Or captured by the heroes. But he hadn’t.

Every single person who had ever gone to this mansion to attack Grant had never been seen or heard from again. And I had no idea why. For all I knew, all those people were still wandering around these grounds, lost in their own heads. Harvey Grant might not be a battle mage, but he was still incredibly dangerous.

Callan pushed the door open as the carriage came to a halt outside Grant’s gilded front door. Turning back around, he held out his hand to help me down. I blinked at it in surprise. As did Callan. Instead of waiting for me to take his hand, he suddenly leaned through the door and grabbed my wrist. I stumbled slightly as he pulled me out and onto the grass.

“What a gentleman,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm, as I yanked my wrist out of his grip and smoothened down my dress.

“If it’s a gentleman you want, maybe you should’ve stayed with Lance Carmichael.” Jerking his chin, he started towards the front door. “Let’s go.”

If I’d had access to my magic, I would have thrown a cloud of poison at him. But I didn’t, so I just ground my teeth and stalked after him.

The two guards outside the front door pulled it open for us while the one on the left said, “He’s waiting for you in the night glen.”

Callan gave them a nod in acknowledgement while I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. Grant and his ridiculous names. The night glen. The sunset glen. The dawn glen. He appeared to have a section of his gardens for every time of day.

Only glinting chandeliers watched us as we crossed the long hallway that would take us through the house and out to Grant’s gardens. As I swept my gaze over the shining marble walls, I couldn’t help but wonder what the rest of his house looked like. And how to get there.

Every time I had been here, I had only ever met Grant out in the gardens. And to get there, I always had to take this same route. The front door led to this corridor, which in turn led straight to another door that took us into the gardens on the other side. But the mansion spread out on both my left and right, as well as two stories upwards, so there had to be rooms in here. However, no doors or staircases were visible. Only the pale candlelit hallway.

Music and the sounds of people talking came from the open glass door up ahead. I followed Callan as he stepped across the threshold and onto the grass outside.

Even though I had seen it before, the sight of Grant’s gardens always took my breath away. Bushes and trees with thick leaves dotted the lawn. Just like the ones at the front of his mansion, they were full of colorful flowers and strange fruits. All across the space stood swirling metal poles with glass domes on top. Candles burned brightly inside, and since the domes were made of different-colored glass, they painted the whole area in a multitude of hues. It was like walking through a rainbow.

Men and women in glittering outfits stood, sat, and lay on the grass and on the gilded furniture that had been positioned across it. Some wore sparkling wings made of sheer fabric while others bore golden masks that swirled across their features. And all of them had blissful and happy expressions on their faces.

“Don’t eat or drink anything,” Callan said in a quiet voice.

“I know,” I answered. “I’m not an idiot. I’ve dealt with Grant before.”

Grant’s mansion was always like this. Or at least, it had been every time I had been here. What it looked like behind closed doors when he was alone was still unclear. But whenever he invited someone for a meeting, his gardens were always full of smiling people and some kind of whimsical party. Since Grant’s magic gave him the power to manipulate people’s emotions, I never knew how much of this happy atmosphere was real. Or voluntary, for that matter. And while he might not be bold enough to actually touch his palms together and send his magic straight at the ones he had invited here for a meeting, there was always a significant risk that the food and drink he tried to offer had already been infused with it.

The cheerful crowd continued laughing and dancing and chatting around us while Callan and I made our way through the bushes and towards the section that Grant called the night glen.

“Grant is an emotion mage,” I whispered as we crossed a path of grass that was lit up by pink and yellow domes of light.

“I know that,” Callan answered in a clipped tone. “What’s your point?”

“My point is that he, more than anyone, should be able to read the emotions on someone’s face. He will see straight away that we still hate each other and then he’ll never believe that we’re in this together.”

Callan forced out a long breath. “Then you’d better dust off those skills you have because it’s time to fake it. Until we leave his presence, we’re partners. And you’d better sell it good because your life, more than mine, depends on it.”

“Worry about yourself. I’m a much more accomplished liar than you.”

“Don’t I know it.”

Before I could reply, we rounded the final bush and reached the night glen.

In this section of the gardens, only white domes dotted the grass. They also had small shapes carved into them, which made the candles inside fill the whole area with what looked like silvery starlight. A woman in a flowing white dress played haunting notes on a violin by the white marble fountain on my left, while other people talked softly in groups that had formed throughout the open space. At the back, along the row of thick hedges that separated this section from the next, were a series of couches and lounge chairs in silver and white. Pale drapes made of a sheer and glittering fabric hung over the seating arrangements like a sparkling night sky. And on one of the lounge chairs was a very average-looking man with brown hair and blue eyes.

Harvey Grant sat up straighter and swung his legs over the side of the long chair so that he faced us when he saw us approaching. Lifting a hand, he motioned for us to join him.

My heart started up a nervous rhythm. I wasn’t usually worried when I met other dark mages, but without my magic, I felt incredibly vulnerable.

Callan drew a hand down my back in an affectionate gesture while speaking quietly through a smile.

“Fake it.”