House of Deception: The Unrivaled Series

by Brandi Elledge

  Why would Raven inject me with the serum? I was her friend. Her childhood friend. Sadness filled me where there was no light.

  I felt strong arms tighten around me, and then the Puppeteer said, “Ah, so you are still in there. Fight for me.” He must have felt my betrayal. My grief.

  I wanted to fight, I wanted to live, but I felt trapped inside my own mind.

  I was so cold. My limbs felt frozen and, more than anything, I no longer wanted to open my eyes. Just the opposite. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to simply doze off, but then there were startled voices, keeping me from sleep.

  Someone, who sounded just like Geralyn, barked an order for me to be put down. However, I wanted to tell the Puppeteer to keep holding me. I was too cold, but I was still trapped in the dark, unable to move. Paralyzed.

  “What happened to her?” the voice that sounded like Geralyn demanded.

  I wanted to ask where Leo was and if he was okay, but I could barely form the thought, much less speak my concern.

  I felt like crying when the Puppeteer broke down the exact events that had taken place to cause me to be surrounded in this darkness.

  As the woman hiccupped with emotions, I realized that it was, in fact, Geralyn.

  How had he gotten me to the House of Hybrids so fast? Was the wetness I had felt on my face the snow falling?

  “Will she make it?”

  I felt the mattress I was laying on shift. Then my boots, pants, and sweater were removed until I lay there in just my bra and underwear.

  “Put my shirt on her,” the Puppeteer said.

  Geralyn was singing some sort of lullaby to me while she dressed me in what felt like an oversized, warm cotton T-shirt. Then the bed shifted again, and I felt warm hands grab me, half-lifting and half-dragging me up a warm body. Someone else tossed covers over me and the body that I was lying on.

  Next, I felt arms come around my waist and the deep timber of the Puppeteer’s voice rumble through my back when he said, “The worst part of being injected is the coldness and feeling trapped.”

  “I remember,” Geralyn said. “I’m the one who looked after you the first time you were injected.”

  He tightened his arms around me. “I was five. If I could find my way out then, she will now.”

  Geralyn sniffed. “But you were stubborn.”

  “So is our Little Thorn.”

  As my body took all the heat that the Puppeteer was offering, I felt Geralyn place more blankets on top of me.

  At some point, my trapped mind grew exhausted, and I fell asleep. I dreamed that I was trapped in the ground, under miles of dirt. I was trying to claw my way out, but there was no exit. I couldn’t breathe. I was getting no oxygen. I knew I was dying.

  I heard a soothing voice say, “Imagine yourself free, and you will be.”

  I knew that voice.

  I pictured icy-blue eyes and snowflakes, and then I remembered the words that the fortune teller had spoken. I didn’t need to fight against the tide but swim with it.

  I let myself relax as I stopped fighting.

  Warm hands tightened around my waist. I was safe. I was going to be okay.

  The Puppeteer was humming some sort of tune as I forced myself to submit to the darkness, finding comfort in his arms. Then, with a gasp, I broke free. My arms and legs were already moving as my eyes flew open.

  I looked around at my surroundings. I was lying in a dark, wooden bed, in a masculine room. The curtains were beige and, in the corner of the room, a roaring fire was going. Blankets upon blankets were piled on top of me.

  Disengaging the two masculine hands that were around my waist, I sat up. Holding the blankets to my chest, I then turned to see the Puppeteer.

  He was bare-chested, and I quickly traveled my eyes down him to see that he was as magnificent without clothes as he was with them. When I raised my eyes, blue eyes were staring at me with mock amusement. One eyebrow was arched, as if he was waiting for me to either say something or quit ogling him.

  “I thought I was going to die,” I said.

  His amusement faded. “For a moment there, I did, too. Your body temperature dropped to hypothermic levels.”

  “Thank you for trying to warm me.”

  Even lounged back against the headboard, his muscles were still tense and defined. I refused to let my gaze wander over him again.

  I felt a warm hand trail under my shirt and up my rib cage. I flinched before I looked down to see what it was the Puppeteer was tracing. Releasing the covers, I scrunched his shirt up.

  My mouth dropped open at the mark. It was beautiful. The strings didn’t look like strings as much as they did vines. They went under my bra and ran delicately down my side. They almost made a figure eight, or an infinity sign.

  “I got my mark.”

  He pulled his hand back. “You did.”

  I dropped the shirt and pulled my knees to my chest, thinking of which question I needed to ask him first.

  “Is Raven okay?”

  “She’s alive.” I didn’t have to look at him to tell he was angry.

  “Leo?”

  “He didn’t make it.”

  I dropped my chin to my raised knees. I felt horrible over that. Leo had seemed like a great guy who had just made a stupid decision.

  “I don’t have to tell you that none of this was your fault.” The Puppeteer’s voice was clipped. He sounded mad that I was grieving.

  I should climb out from between his legs, but my body was exhausted. I didn’t even have the energy to lift my chin from my knees.

  “How did we get here so fast?”

  “Why don’t you ask the question that you really want to know?”

  “Because I’m afraid to know the answer.”

  He scooted over in the bed and brought one of his legs to the other side of me so he was no longer straddling me. He then propped up the pillows next to his and pulled me back to rest against the stack. I dropped my knees and turned on my side to face him as he drew the blankets up over us. My knees touched his. I should be mortified, but I never felt more safe.

  Gathering my courage, I asked the question that I didn’t necessarily want the answer to. “What am I now?”

  He turned his head to look at me. “You’re still the same person you were when you thought you were human. As far as what was injected in you, that I don’t know. From experience, I can tell you that you won’t know for at least a month.” Then he gave me a heart-stopping smile. “At least the mark wasn’t on your face.”

  The laughter that came from me was pure exhaustion.

  I closed my eyes, only intending to rest for a minute. The next time I woke up, though, the bed beside me was empty and sunlight was streaming through the windows.

  I shuffled toward the Puppeteer’s bathroom and, after taking a hot shower, I helped myself to another of his cotton T-shirts, completely ignoring the fact that I liked wearing his clothing. It smelled like him. His scent even reeked of power and masculinity.

  I lifted the T-shirt to my nose, breathing in the bold, sensual scent. No citrusy or woodsy smell for the Puppeteer. No, his unique scent was an exotic mystery, just like the man himself.

  I shook my head slightly. It was okay to acknowledge that the Puppeteer was hot with rock-hard abs and smelled good. It was not okay to be lusting after him and romanticizing his scent.

  I dropped the shirt, letting it fall back down to mid-thigh. Could you even lust after a man who didn’t even have a name but a trademark? What in the world was wrong with me? The Puppeteer would chew me up and spit me out.

  I was running a hand through my wet hair, trying to finger-comb it, when the door to the Puppeteer’s bedroom opened. He stood there, looking as sexy as always in his customary black silk shirt and matching slacks.

  “Glad to see you’re up and moving around.” He scanned my body. “Glad to see you helped yourself to one of my shirts, too.”

  I shrugged. “Since you don’t wear T-shirts, someone might as well.”


  A smile curled his lips upward. “So defensive all the time.” He shut the door behind him then pointed to two chairs in front of a fireplace. “Come sit in front of the fire, and I’ll get you a comb.”

  I was feeling chilly, so I sat in the overstuffed leather chair, watching the flames flicker. My mind went to Raven. Was she grieving Leo and her friendship with me, or was she still holding me accountable for what had happened to him?

  A comb was tossed in my lap as the Puppeteer sighed. “Stop thinking of your friend. She isn’t worthy of your time.”

  I felt my eyes misting over as I ran the comb through my hair. “We’ve been through so much together.”

  “You mean, you’ve protected her through so much.” Before I could argue, he said, “The good news that has come out of all this is two bottles of serum were found. That only leaves five out there.”

  I scrunched my nose up. “I thought there were three?” I jerked the comb through my hair. “Everything happened so fast … maybe I don’t remember correctly.”

  He tracked my movements with his intense blue eyes. Then he stood and grabbed the comb from me. “You are pulling your hair out. Let me.”

  At first, I stiffened at having the Puppeteer comb my hair, but then I relaxed at his gentle hands.

  “I will double-check, but when I found you, the case was open with two empty vials laying on the floor.”

  Closing my eyes, letting the fire warm my face, I asked, “You said there was good news. Is there also bad news?”

  “I should have stayed to put a muzzle on Raven. I’d prefer it if no one knew that you had been injected with serum. I should have broken her neck when I had the chance. It’s not like me to leave loose ends.”

  But he did to save me.

  “So, everyone knows that what? That I was injected?”

  “Probably.” He kept such a steady rhythm with the comb that I wanted to sigh.

  “Why is this a problem?” My voice came out husky.

  “Because you were a mixed blood, born from two perfect matches. You didn’t belong at the Minor’s Ball, and now you have been injected. If they know now, then we can’t go back there.”

  “So, now what do we do?”

  “We introduce you to the major players.” He set the comb down then walked over to sit back in his chair facing me. “Thorn, I need you to know that, once the word spreads that the House of Joy had two, possibly three, vials of serum in hiding, every single house, major and minor, will be questioning whether there are more. We won’t be the only ones looking for the rest.”

  “Searching in secret is no longer an option.”

  He nodded. “Therefore, I don’t need you any longer. You are more than welcome to stay here at the House of Hybrids. I would suggest keeping my mark on you until you have a clear plan on how to protect yourself, if you find that you no longer want my protection.”

  I crossed my arms, making the hem of his T-shirt slide up my bare legs. He tracked the motion before returning his eyes to my face.

  “No.”

  He quirked one eyebrow upward. “No?”

  “You heard me. No. You don’t get to escort me to your house and put me to work until you find out that I can be more useful as bait. Then lure me out as said bait for me to almost die just to tell me the cover is blown and you have no more use for me. Whether I’m human or not, they are still my people. I will protect them. Plus, I have information you need. I know where a vial is.”

  I watched as he reclined back in his chair and stretched out one muscular thigh. He then tilted his head sideways as a smile formed on his lips. I silently wondered if the Puppeteer had just played me.

  “Then it seems that I will have a little thorn in my side for a while longer.”

  “Do you swear that I can go with you to claim the next vial?”

  He nodded.

  “Then, in that case, there is a rumor that the head of the House of Agony has one.”

  “That actually makes sense,” he said.

  I forced my chin up. I would let him think he manipulated me this time.

  “I would like a name, though.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I want your name. If we are to be partners, then I refuse to call you the Puppeteer any longer.”

  He stood up, slowly walked toward me, and then placed both hands on the arms of my chair, boxing me in. With his blue eyes, he raked over my face, zeroing in on my lips before returning his gaze to my eyes. “Call me whatever you like, but I’ll always be the monster pulling your strings.” With that, he stood up straight.

  I looked up at him. “So, are you going to flint me back to the Minor’s Ball? I’d like to pick up my things and tell Cal my plans for leaving.” I smiled as the Puppeteer glared at me. Then I put a hand to my chest in fake dismay. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Do you not want others to know that you can flint? So many secrets,” I tsked.

  Again, he raked his blue eyes over me, making me feel like I was naked. “Luca.”

  I could tell he wasn’t mad by the way he then walked toward the door, but I couldn’t help the joy that I felt from having a name.

  “Geralyn will be up soon to escort you to your room. Get changed. We will leave within the hour. We have a lot to do, Thorn.”

  Before he walked out the door, I called out, “I’m really looking forward to this partnership.”

  I heard him simply sigh from where I sat.

  I didn’t know what the future held, but I knew I could never go back to being just the human girl who barely made ends meet. I had survived a murdering grandfather, the worst human conditions, and a serum injection. One day, my luck would run out, but until then, I would smile from all of my accomplishments so far.

  Whatever tomorrow brought, I would manage it knowing I was born from strength and was a survivor.

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  Thank you, God, for everything.

  Thanks to my family and friends. I am constantly surrounded by people that give me the best version of themselves and for that I am truly grateful. Thanks to my husband who gets excited for me even when he isn’t entirely sure what we’re happy about. Thanks to my parents who are amazing and love my dark humor. It really is a trade-off. I make them laugh and they don’t judge me. My kids who are ride or die even if the short one seems to always throw me under the bus. Thanks to all my family and crazy friends, I love you. Tammey thanks for naming the Puppeteer. He is crazy wicked and I’m low key obsessed with him.

  Thank you Kristin Campbell, for your excellent editing. You always amaze me. Thank you Martha Ashe for your keen eye and Brook Forshey for your feedback. Jenny Bodle and Kayla thanks for your help as well. Molly Phipps for the beautiful cover that you created. And last but not least big shout out to all of my readers for your support.

  Brandi Elledge lives in the South, where even the simplest words are at least four syllables.

  She has a husband that she refused to upgrade…because let’s face it he is pretty awesome, and two beautiful children that are the light of her life.

  Find her online at:

  brandielledge.com

 

 

 
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