The Dark Princess (The Balance Series Book 3)

by Janelle Stalder

  What did it mean that she was here now?

  “Don’t start getting too hopeful,” Collin said.

  Cillian glanced at him and then back at the large balcony he knew led off from Caleb’s bedroom. While he wouldn’t call himself a romantic, in any sense of the word, Cillian had always considered his King like a brother, even before he’d become their leader. He’d seen how much it had destroyed Caleb to not have his mate beside him, and had always wished for his sake that she’d come back. It was as if Caleb was always missing a piece of himself, something anyone close to him could clearly see.

  “It’s a start,” Cillian replied, making it sound almost like a question.

  Collin nodded as he turned to start walking again, the two of them in stride with the other. “It’s a start,” he agreed.

  Cillian headed into the small cluster of trees at the far side of the parking lot. “I should head over there,” he said, letting his wings stretch for a second without the weight of the glamour.

  Collin leaned against the trunk of a tree, arms folded across his chest with a bemused look. “Why do you act like watching her is such a chore?”

  “Isn’t it?”

  He lifted his brows. “She is your princess. Do you not worry that someone targeted her with a hound?”

  The mention of that encounter had his blood instantly boiling. He tried to hide his reaction, but he doubted anything went unnoticed by the other demon. “Of course it concerns me. Caleb would never forgive us if we let something happen to her.”

  “Your lord’s displeasure is the only reason you wish her safe?”

  “What other reason would there be?”

  The two of them stared at one another in silence before Collin nodded his head once.

  “I guess none. Be careful.”

  He wasn’t sure the meaning beneath that last statement, but the other man had turned and left before he could reply. A growl worked its way up his chest. Be careful. What was that supposed to mean? He was a trained soldier, better than any other demon he knew, except perhaps Caleb himself.

  Remembering that his current ward, as it were, was alone, he snapped his wings close to his body and closed his eyes, delving into that place in his mind where power pulsed. One second he stood in the trees, the next he was in one, high up, looking down at the Victorian that had been in Caleb’s family for centuries.

  He’d stood in this specific tree many times over the years as it allowed him to see into a number of windows. Currently he could see Hope in her bedroom, sitting at the desk Vivian had brought home for her when she’d started high school. Even from where he watched, he could see that she was working on school work.

  He shook his head. It figured Hope would be doing work on a Friday night. She wasn’t like other girls her age that he had observed. He knew most girls would be out doing something on a Friday, but Hope had never been like that. She’d had always hidden away, just like her mother.

  He knew why, had heard what some of the other kids called her and said about her. It had taken a great deal of discipline not to strike them all down the first time her powers had manifested in some way, and the other children had blamed her for the results, calling her a witch.

  Even now, as her powers began to reach maturity with her eighteenth year coming up, he feared for what might happen. He’d already had to take care of the windshield she’d cracked, wiping the minds of the boys who had witnessed it to insure they wouldn’t do anything to retaliate against her.

  He ripped off a twig, settling down on the branch, his back against the trunk, as he got out his pocket knife and started whittling, figuring he’d might as well get comfortable until Vivian got back.

  Movement caught his eye. Hope pushed the chair back, stretching her arms up and to the side. She rolled her head from left to right, and Cillian found himself watching the curve of her long, delicate neck. Growling, he looked back down. Hope French was an unwanted distraction. He grunted at that thought.

  Distraction indeed, he cursed inwardly.

  The memory of the softness of her skin, and the way his had reacted to it and her scent had been haunting him ever since. He looked back up, reluctantly, to see her walking around the room now, her head down as she typed on her phone.

  There was no denying that Hope had blossomed into a beauty that would rival that of even the most beautiful of immortals he’d known in his life. He could imagine what a succubus, or even one of the sirens, would think of her if they ever saw Hope. She would be a famed beauty in the demon world.

  His claws sharpened as he thought of how the other males would vie for her attention. Not that Caleb would let any near her. It wasn’t the first time that Cillian thought perhaps it was a good thing Hope was kept away from their world. Now he just had to make sure it stayed that way. His senses weren’t picking up on anything else nearby that posed a threat, but he wasn’t naive enough to think that the attack on her had been singular, or unintentional.

  Music was suddenly blaring from the tiny, black speaker that sat on her desk. He cringed as the fast beat filled the clearing from her open window. Hope began singing loudly along with it, dancing around the room, her hands and hips shaking wildly as her long, dark hair whipped around her.

  Cillian found himself chuckling as he watched her move in complete abandonment. Shaking his head with a grin, he went back to his whittling, whistling along absently to the tune as he did.

  Five

  Party Time

  Hey.

  She hadn’t seen him in almost seventeen years, and “Hey” was her first words to him? Her cheeks flamed as blue eyes raked over her. If Caleb Banks could ever be caught off guard, a rarity at best, it was happening right in that moment. Even with his mouth hanging open, he was the most beautiful man Vivian had ever seen. After everything, she could still admit that, to herself at least.

  His face had matured only slightly, his hair now swept back off his face making him seem older and somehow more dangerous. The black suit he wore looked as though it had been tailor made to fit his broad shoulders. In fact, Vivian could probably guarantee it was specially made for him. The Banks had more money than anyone else she knew. Old money. Very old money, in their case.

  Finally, he seemed to snap out of it, his brows lowering as he placed the papers on his desk, forgotten. “Is it Hope? Is she okay?”

  Vivian staggered back at the look of utter distress on his face, taking a seat on the arm of the chair before her legs completely gave out. His concern made a large lump form in her throat. Of course he’d be worried she was there because something had happened. Hope was his child too.

  A child he’d never gotten to watch firsthand grow up. Only now did the tragedy of that really sink in for her. She’d only ever done what she thought was right for Hope, but that didn’t mean it felt right as she looked into Caleb’s eyes. How would she have felt, knowing her child was growing up somewhere and she wasn’t a part of their life? It would have killed her. Yet, he’d never betrayed her wishes. Had it killed him? Something told her, yes. More than she could fully comprehend, and for that she felt gutted.

  “It’s not - no, I mean, yes, she’s fine. Nothing’s wrong.” Her voice sounded strained even to her ears.

  His shoulders instantly relaxed as he let out a slow breath. She noticed it had suddenly gotten very hot in the room, and knew instinctively it was because of him. Dermot had had the same effect when he was upset. The memory made her shiver.

  “Are you sure everything is okay?” His eyes roamed over her briskly, taking in every inch of her. “Is it you? Is something wrong? Are you ill?”

  “No, Caleb, no,” she said with a short laugh. “It’s nothing bad, I promise.”

  “Then, why are you here?”

  She was here.

  In his home.

  Her scent had just about brought him to his knees, but he had managed to stay standing by sheer will alone. How he had missed her presence earlier,
he wasn’t sure. He blamed it solely on the report he’d been reading about some issues Cain was having with the deserters in the Highlands. An issue he was going to have to go take a look at himself. It wasn’t often Caleb left the mortal realm, but now it was unavoidable.

  He watched her closely as she seemed to fight with her emotions in reaction to his question. It was obvious she was both expecting it and hurt by his bluntness. He needed to understand why Vivian French, the only mortal woman he’d ever loved, and more than that, his fated mate, had finally come back here. He knew it wasn’t just for him, despite how much he would have given for that to be true.

  Gods, she was beautiful. Not one year had been unkind to her. Her dark hair was shorter now, but still hung in thick waves around her flawless face and bright green eyes. His hands twitched by his side, wanting nothing more than to walk over there and let the strands run through his fingers. The familiar pout of her mouth all but begged him to take them in a punishing kiss; to show her just what she’d given up when she left and how much he still burned for her constantly.

  He let those fantasy fade into the back of his mind as he waited, his face a mask, for her to reply. At least it wasn’t Hope. When he’d first gotten over his initial shock, he realized the only reason she was likely to have come to him was if Hope was in trouble - or worse. Considering they believed someone had targeted her, he’d thought the worst.

  “I, uh, just...” she looked away, biting her lip.

  He bit back a growl.

  She turned back to him with an apologetic smile. Laughing quietly, she said, “this is a lot harder than I thought it would be.”

  She had no idea. It was taking every ounce of his control not to throw the desk between them out of the way, and pull her into his arms. He raised his brows, waiting, not trusting his voice to reply in a way that wouldn’t scare her.

  She pressed her lips together, her long fingers playing with the hem of her shirt. “I, uh,” she cleared her throat. “I need to go away for a few days...”

  He tilted his head. “Away?”

  She nodded. “I just released a book, I, uh, write now...for a living. That’s what I do.”

  He smiled slightly, walking around to lean on the side of the desk closest to her. Those greens eyes widened a fraction as they followed his movements.

  “I’m well aware of what you do, Vivian.” The name on his tongue was like ecstasy. Almost as good as his name had sounded on hers.

  “Oh,” she said. “Well, I have this interview thing in New York, and my agent would like me to go.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “Thanks,” she said with a nervous smile. They stared at one another in silence for a handful of beats before she cleared her throat again, breaking eye contact with him. “Anyway, I just thought, or was wondering rather, if you could maybe keep an eye on Hope while I was away?”

  He remained silent, unsure again of how he’d sound if he responded. She had come to him to help with Hope. She’d never done that before. Well, she’d never gone away without Hope before either, which he knew for a fact, but that still didn’t lessen his pride at being asked.

  “Of course I’ll watch over her - discreetly,” he added when he saw her tense up and open her mouth to speak.

  “Thank you,” she said, offering him another smile. “I really appreciate it.”

  “Never thank me, Vivian. Don’t you know by now? I’d do anything you ask of me. Anything at all.”

  Mom had left after a ridiculously tearful goodbye, on both our parts, and I’d spent the entire day lounging with Cat while we binged watched the latest season of our favourite drama. It had been bliss. But by five I already missed her, by six I was talking to Cat over dinner as if he were a human, by seven I was staring at the wall wondering when the house had gotten so quiet, and by eight I knew I couldn’t avoid getting ready for the party any longer than I already had.

  I headed upstairs, checking my phone again just to make sure Emily hadn’t changed her mind and decided to either cancel or show up here earlier than she’d said. Neither were the case. My outfit lay on the bed, mocking me with its lameness.

  I’d realized pretty quickly Friday night that I had literally not one good outfit for a house party. Everything I owned was plain and boring, and the kids at school were going to crucify me for it. What other choice did I have though?

  The jeans I’d picked were old and baggy. I scrunched up my nose, fingering the worn denim. They definitely weren’t “sexy”. I sighed. The shirt was also an older one, and looked like something a four-year-old would wear.

  “I’m doomed,” I said. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I stared into my open closet, somehow hoping if I just concentrated hard enough, a new, cooler piece of clothing would appear. It didn’t. Time was ticking down; I didn’t have much longer to sit around.

  Then inspiration hit.

  Mom’s closet.

  I got up, tiptoeing to the door, peeking around the corner. What the heck was I doing? I was the only one here.

  “Idiot,” I muttered. Heading down the hall, I walked into Mom’s bedroom, inhaling the sweet vanilla scent of her perfume still clinging to the air. The dress I had been thinking about was the first piece my eyes fell on.

  A sleek, black dress, with a sweetheart neckline and black lace overlay, it wasn’t too dressy, and not too sexy, but better than anything I owned. Mom had bought it when we’d gone down to Florida two years ago, but had never actually worn it. The tags were still hanging on the side.

  “Meow.”

  Cat blinked up at me, accusingly, as I slipped the straps off the hanger and turned around.

  “She wouldn’t mind,” I said to him, clutching the material to my chest. “And I’ll be careful.”

  He turned his nose up and stalked out.

  “Whatever,” I said. “Judgmental old cat.”

  I was ready in an hour, pairing the dress with some strappy flats and simple accessories. I’d curled my hair into waves and did my make up a little heavier than usual, but not caked on. Emily showed up, letting out a slow whistle when I opened the door. I took that as a good sign.

  “Ready?” She said, smiling wide.

  I nodded. “Let’s do this.”

  She let out a hoot, barreling back down the steps and into her car. I locked up the house, making sure the outside lights were on, and followed her. My eyes looked around the clearing, pausing on a spot for a second, before I forced myself to get in. It had felt as if someone was watching me, but I knew it was likely just an animal, or my imagination. Pushing the unease away, I focused on Emily and the night ahead of us.

  ***

  The party was loud, and just as Em had guessed, everyone was pretty much wasted when we got there. No one seemed to find it odd that we were there, some people even greeting us as if it was completely normal. The two of us stood along the outside, sipping on warm beer Emily had procured for us.

  “So this is a high school house party,” Emily shouted.

  I chuckled. “It would appear so.”

  We watched as some people danced, random boys and girls made out, one girl I knew from my geography class was vomiting into a plant, and a group of guys were shouting at the back of the house playing beer pong. We glanced at one another, laughing.

  “It’s pretty much what I had expected,” she said.

  “Pretty much,” I agreed.

  “Emily!” a girl named Sasha (I think) called out from the dance floor, holding her hands out. “Come dance with us, girl!”

  “What the fuck?” Emily said loud enough for only me to hear.

  I shrugged. “Go, be one of the ‘in’ people for a night,” I said with a grin.

  “What are you, my fairy godmother?”

  I winked. “Just be back here by midnight.”

  “Got it,” she said with a laugh. “Come dance with me.”

  I shook my head. “I’m going to go get some fresh air.” Th
e beer wasn’t sitting right in my stomach, and the hot, stuffy air was starting to get to me. Emily nodded, waving over her shoulder as she got pulled into the fray. I watched her for a moment, laughing to myself at how easily she fell in with them, before pushing my way to the backyard.

  A hand grabbed my upper arm as I reached the kitchen. Taken off guard, I stumbled back into the person. Two hands steadied me before I managed to turn around and see who had stopped me. To my surprise, it was Jessie. He was sitting on the counter, leaning back against the wall, his eyes glassy and cheeks flushed. I didn’t have to be an expert to know he was pretty wasted.

  “Uh, hey, Jessie,” I said, trying for calm and casual. I had no idea what kind of drunk he was, and I was afraid to find out. He wasn’t nice sober, so the odds of him being a happy drunk were pretty low.