I slammed the door shut, hearing people outside looking for us. Since Harry had given me lengthy tours of this place when I was thirteen, I knew it by heart. This door was hidden under an alcove and looked like a part of the wooden wall. They’d never find us.

I cupped my hand over her mouth so she couldn’t call for help and dragged her down the pantry stairs while she resisted, kicking her legs and trying to bite my palm. The scent of old food they used to keep here—sacks of potatoes, condiments, and canned food lingered in the air, though the place was completely empty. Mold was also a big player in the puke-de-toilette fragrance. Under the stairway, there was another hidden door. I took the Swiss knife out of my boot and jammed its edge into the lock, picking it with expertise and elbowing the door open. I pushed a still-kicking Len inside and closed the door behind us. It was the deepest shade of dark there was: pitch black. She couldn’t see anything.

I couldn’t either, but I knew where we were. What was there.

“Where are we?”

She hiccupped, but her voice sounded considerably more sober and less pissed off. The sense of danger heightened her senses, maybe because we were officially underground, her family and friends were upstairs, and no one could hear her.

Maybe because they said this place was haunted, and they weren’t wrong.

It was.

With my own fucking nightmares, for instance.

It was kind of rad knowing she was lying on the cold, damp stone bench and I was standing, hovering over her. It was my favorite position in any encounter, no matter with whom.

But it felt particularly good when it was Len, because she was the only person who didn’t cower, even when her body language said so. I’d never managed to get her on her knees for me, and fuck knows I tried.

“What was that all about?” I ignored her question.

“Oh, let’s see. My father is shagging my nemesis—my teenage nemesis—and she threw it in my face this morning. Happy birthday to me! And she added that you knew about them and didn’t tell me. Why?”

Because it wasn’t my business.

Because hurting her unnecessarily wasn’t high on my to-do list.

Because I didn’t get the fucking chance to.

That was the worst part. She was fucking mad at me for not doing something, before I’d had the chance to decide whether I was going to do it or not.

“I have no loyalty to you,” I said coolly, following my instinct to answer to no one. I wasn’t one to be pushed.

“You don’t have any to Arabella, either. And she is the one in the wrong.”

True, but why would I ruin your day because your dad is a horn dog and Arabella is continuously breaking Guinness records as the trashiest person alive?

“I don’t owe you an explanation.”

“Do you like her? Is that it?” she asked.

Sober Lenora would never ask this.

“Fucking in love with her,” I said.

I was not in charge of how I was feeling, and that annoyed the shit out of me. A part of me wanted to scream that she was the dumbest smart creature I’d ever met, and another wanted to apologize for…for…Jesus fuck, why was I twisted inside-out over this bullshit?

Guilt. I was feeling guilty. Goddammit.

“Wouldn’t surprise me.” Len scoffed. “You’re made out of the same cloth.”

“Don’t poke the bear,” I warned.

“The bear poked me first! The bear tore me to shreds. Arabella is out for my blood.”

We were not talking about the same fucking bear, that’s for sure.

“Yeah, well, at least she sucks cock,” I deadpanned.

Len snapped her mouth shut. I heard her body shifting, standing up in the dark. She was unsteady, but humming with hot energy that made me want to rip her clothes off. I heard her bump against the wall, and after a few seconds of squirming, she managed to tug her phone out of her pocket and turn the flashlight on. Her blonde hair glowed like charred gold, and her face looked even younger under the white light. She moved the phone around, examining where we were.

“Christ,” she breathed, pointing the phone up to the ceiling in a circular motion, her eyes bulging.

“Nice choice of words.” I slipped behind her, one hand curling over her midriff and the other taking hold of her phone. I directed the light to the corner of the ceiling, where there was a line of rusty, crooked hooks. There were rope marks all over the oak beam, which was half rotten, soggy, and damp in some places.

“It’s a nine-hundred-year-old castle. You must’ve known there was history behind it. Secrets.”

The word secrets weighed heavy on my tongue, and we both knew why.

She said nothing. My cock pulsated, throbbing, begging to punish her for liking Pope, and I pushed it against her ass. I didn’t even think she noticed. She was too captivated with the place we were in.