House of Silence (Poisoned Houses Book 3)

by Lyn Forester

  HOUSE OF SILENCE: POISONED HOUSES 3

  Copyright © 2019 by Lyn Forester

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the writer, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover Design Copyright © 2019 Lyn Forester

  First Printing, 2019

  Contents

  Ash

  Departures

  Reunions

  The Coos of Home

  The Challenge

  Masks

  Cracks

  Under Pressure

  Secrets

  Learning Curve

  Thought Spiral

  Cut Strings

  Whisper in the Dark

  The Things We Do Not Say

  Decisions

  Secrets Told

  This & That

  Sticks & Balls

  The Stench of Cleansing

  The Price of Silence

  All In

  The Real Caitlyn

  Nightmares & Scares

  Rim Jumper

  Comfort & Alarm

  Response

  The Heist

  Into the Sky

  Also By

  About the Author

  Ash

  As we pull away from the glittering lights of Central Plaza, the neon signs of Central Road flicker through the car windows, painting the interior of the car in vivid pinks, blues, oranges, and reds.

  Seeing Connor, Felix, and Declan, however briefly, turned out to be the only bright spot to the reception for the new Mr. Blue, leader of the human and halfbreed law enforcement division of the Peace Keepers. After learning the negotiations had ended, and that we’d soon return to the Academia for Planetary Alliance, the rest of the evening dragged by.

  With an end goal in sight, forcing myself to mingle with my fellow elite grated on every nerve. Each time I passed Felix and Declan while unable to speak to them freely opened an ache in my chest. I’d never felt the separation of our stations so clearly, and not even my brief interlude with Connor could ease the loneliness.

  “You performed well tonight.” Nikola’s low voice fills the silence of the car, pulling my thoughts to the men who sit in the car beside me and away from those I miss.

  Nikola’s body presses against my right side, heating me through the uncomfortable restrictions of my clothes. The too small corset he cinched me into at the beginning of the night has steadily turned into a vise around my ribs, leaving me claustrophobic.

  “Yes, you represented House Lonette beautifully, demi-Councilor,” Garrett agrees from my other side. His larger frame crowds the seat, shoving me closer to Nikola. “Your grandmother will be proud.”

  “And Councilor Lonette, of course,” Nikola coolly interjects.

  “Yes, of course.” Garrett’s voice drops an octave. “And Councilor Lonette.”

  The air between the two men crackles with thinly veiled animosity and, caught between them, I struggle to breathe.

  Both vie for the position as my future secretary, the one person who will walk with me through every aspect of life, from boardroom to bedroom. Garrett holds the favor of my grandmother and represents a long line of Latven’s who served my family since the landing, only to be ousted when my father broke tradition and signed a lifetime contract with Nikola’s mother.

  Both my grandmother and father push for their own candidates, and I’m not naïve enough to be blind to the danger both men represent. Nikola claims he’ll put me ahead of my father’s wishes, but how can I trust him? Garrett has made no such promises, and I can’t decide if that makes him the more honest of the two.

  Either way, I’ll soon be rid of them once more, and I can’t wait for the freedom. Father should never have pushed for me to sign a secretary before my age of maturity. It’s too soon to make such a decision.

  Tired, I resist the urge to lean my head back against the seat, mindful of the loose chignon at the back of my head. God forbid I leave the car in anything less than the same pristine appearance I entered it in.

  The gossip mill would have a field day with that.

  The seat shifts next to me, and Nikola’s warm breath fills my ear. “We’re almost home. You can relax, then.”

  Home. He says the word with a warmth I don’t feel. Lonette Manor has never been a place I eagerly return to. It’s a jail of shifting walls and stifling restrictions, where every movement is criticized and emotions bring down harsh punishment.

  I stare straight ahead as we turn onto the long driveway that leads to Lonette Manor. Even at night, invisible ground lights illuminate the grass, dyed burnt-orange in House Lonette’s colors in case any passersby forget which family resides here. To further solidify our status, a statue of Captain Lonette, our founding father and savior of the human race, crouches before our mansion, his cupped hands spilling clean water into a large pond.

  At the end, the driveway curves to the right in a large loop around the statue, with plenty of room to stop directly in front of the grand entrance.

  The car comes to a stop and dips as the gentle vibration of its hover system shifts into stasis. The driver leaps out and hurries around to the right side, closest to the manor, and opens the passenger door. Nikola smoothly swings his legs out, and my side instantly feels colder.

  He pauses next to the door and extends his hand.

  I scoot across the seat and hover my fingertips at the center of his palm without making contact. Even this late at night, I can’t afford to show weakness in needing actual assistance to exit the car. Fingers straight, I stand.

  The low-heeled nude shoes I wear cushion my feet, a marvel of innovation designed by Master Pannor, the leader of elite fashion. Even after hours of standing, my heels barely protest. If only the same could be said about the dress. Standing eases the strain on my lungs, compressed by the tight corset.

  Without waiting for Garrett, Nikola leads me past the four-story, white pillars that frame the entrance. The double-wide doors silently swing inward, perfectly timed to not slow our pace into the house.

  Inside the foyer, Mr. Purnell, the family butler, bows low. “Welcome home, Ms. Lonette.”

  As my gaze drops to the holo-floor, my stomach clenches. Gone is the dull slate, replaced once more with mirror-finish white marble. I thought I would have some small reprieve before my father returned to the house. “Councilor Lonette is in residence once more?”

  “An hour ago, demi-Councilor,” Mr. Purnell informs me. “He is in the study and wishes not to be disturbed.”

  I mask the instant relief. “I will retire for the night, then.”

  “Of course, demi-Councilor.” His gaze shifts past me, and a moment later, I feel Garrett’s warmth at my back. “The guest bedroom in your quarters has been prepared for Master Latven.”

  My fingers twitch with surprise, and I hide them in the bell of my skirt. Previously when Garrett visited, he stayed on my grandmother’s side of the house, close to his grandfather, Tobin.

  “Our appreciation,” Nikola murmurs, his tone tight when I fail to respond fast enough.

  I give myself a mental shake. “Yes, thank you for your thoughtfulness.”

  Mr. Purnell’s expression sta
ys impassive, ignoring my slip up. “Will you require anything further, demi-Councilor?”

  “No. You may retire for the night.”

  “Thank you.” He bows once more, deeper this time.

  He won’t leave the foyer until I do, so I nod to Nikola. We stride for the lift in the east wing where my new quarters reside. Garrett follows a step behind, not yet familiar with this side of the house. Nor do I plan for him to become familiar. It’s bad enough I share the floor with Nikola.

  Heavy silence fills the ride up to the fourth floor, and I keep my gaze fixed straight ahead, ignoring the weight of expectation that settles between my shoulder blades.

  The lift’s door shushes open to reveal beautiful hardwood flooring and soft gray wallpaper. Tasteful portraits of nature contrast sharply with the ridged hard lines of downstairs, and the tension eases from my shoulders.

  We turn left out of the lift and walk the short distance to the hall set aside for my personal use.

  Nikola stops next to the first door we reach. “This will be your room for the night, Garrett.”

  The taller man gives it a cursory glance but makes no move to enter. “I will assist Caitlyn for the night.”

  My heart slams against my ribs in instant rejection.

  Nikola steps to my side, his calming hand brushing mine out of view. “That won’t be necessary. I can handle the nighttime ritual.”

  Garrett’s mouth kicks up on one side. “It’s only fair that we share the duties of secretary until one of us is contracted permanently.”

  Nikola stiffens. “I am acting-Secretary right now. It is not proper for you to enter the demi-Councilor’s room.”

  Vibrant blue eyes flicker between the two of us. “I believe, if you check the register, I am also listed as acting-Secretary.”

  “Enough.” I slice a hand through the air. “I am tired, and while I appreciate how you comported yourself tonight, Garrett, Nikola is already familiar with this dress and is more qualified in its removal. Since I desire immediate sleep, I choose expediency over fairness.”

  The corners of his eyes tighten, but he gives a good-natured nod of defeat. “Of course, Caitlyn. I will see you in the morning, then.”

  Before I can protest, he swipes a hand over the palm pad next to his door and steps into his room.

  Nikola’s hand on my elbow pulls me down to the end of the hall, and he opens my door, then directs me inside.

  As soon as it shuts, I turn on him. “Is that true?”

  “I’m checking.” He holds a palm-port in his hand, his gaze fixed to the small screen. After a moment, he curses under his breath. “Your grandmother registered him last night.”

  Agitated, I pace away from him. My heart pounds in panic, making breathing difficult. “Is that even legal?”

  “It’s uncommon, but not illegal. You haven’t officially rejected him.” He shoves the device back into his pocket, then strides forward to grip my arms. His dark, serious gaze catches mine. “This is why you need to sign a contract with me. Otherwise, even if you reject Garrett, your grandmother can keep assigning you new candidates for the position.”

  My eyes narrow in anger. “Don’t push me.”

  His fingers tighten on my arms before he releases me with a frustrated growl. “It’s in both of our best interests. We suit each other. We always have. Why don’t you see that?”

  “I won’t be forced into some kind of marriage!” I shout, gasping for breath against the tight confines of my dress. “I’m only eighteen! I want to experience more from lif—”

  I cut off with a cough, unable to drag in another breath as the corseted dress squeezes my ribs in a vise. Panic floods through me, and I reach out to grab Nikola’s shoulder for support, my lips moving without sound.

  Swearing, Nikola spins me around to yank at the tiny pearl buttons down my back. They explode outward, falling silently to the plush cream carpet. I drag in a deep, burning breath, my knees weak, and Nikola helps me to one of the pale-green couches meant for guests.

  Hand up to hold my dress over my breasts, I sag onto the soft cushions. “Thank you.”

  My voice comes out thready and weak, and I hate that Nikola drove me to anger so fast. It’s not even his fault. I’ve known since I was ten what my family planned for us, and Nikola has been open about his desire to fulfill his role. No, it’s this house and the expectations that come with it, the overwhelming knowledge that I have no choices of my own if I stay here.

  Nikola crouches at my side, his palm making soothing circles against my bare back. “Are you okay?”

  Rubbing a hand over my throat, I nod.

  “I’m sorry I pushed. It’s just...” His gaze moves to the closed door. “Garrett worries me.”

  Because Garrett threatens the place in the Lonette house that Nikola assumed was already his. I clamp my lips against the accusation. Giving it voice serves no purpose, and tomorrow, it will no longer matter. I’ll be back at APA, and I plan to vanish long before I’m called on to fulfill my place as First Councilor.

  Nikola’s shoulders sag, and he turns back to me. “It doesn’t have to be like a marriage, you know.”

  Clutching the dress to my breasts, I sit up. “What do you mean?”

  He scrubs a hand through his sleek black hair, disrupting the careful style. “I’ve been well trained. I can bring you pleasure.”

  Heat rushes to my cheeks, and he holds up a hand to forestall my immediate refusal.

  “I would like to fill that role in your life, but if it’s not something you desire, it doesn’t have to be part of our relationship.” He looks away, the muscle in his jaw ticking. “I’m not blind. I’ve seen the way you watch the younger Arrington brother, and I witnessed the kiss you shared with demi-Councilor Williams. If you wish for...liaisons, I will help to arrange them.”

  I shake my head. “Nikola, I don’t know what to say to that.”

  “Think on it.” He rises and offers his hand. “Come, let me help you get ready for bed.”

  I stare from his hand to the bell of my midnight blue skirt. Stars sparkle from its depths. “It’s a shame it’s ruined.”

  “Why?” He arches one slender eyebrow. “You couldn’t be seen wearing it again, anyway.”

  I could have kept it, though, for the memory of Connor’s gentle kiss at Mr. Blue’s party earlier in the evening. But the way the night ended leaves the night soiled.

  Reluctant, I allow Nikola to draw me to my feet. “What will the servants say when they see it?”

  “They won’t know.” Hand warm against my bare back, he leads me through the double-doors into my bedroom. “I’ll put it in the incinerator.”

  And just like everything else in my life, it will turn to ash.

  When the connecting door to Nikola’s room swishes open thirty minutes ahead of schedule, he nods with approval to find me already showered and dressed in one of Master Pannor’s less extravagant ensembles. The burnt-orange, wide-legged pants emulate a skirt without the inconvenience of possible wardrobe malfunctions on the windy landing pad on Level 13, while the high waist locks down my soft, cream blouse.

  Nikola rolls his sleeves up to display strong forearms. “Take a seat at the vanity. I’ll braid your hair before Garrett arrives.”

  I shake off the twinge of guilt as I walk back into the bathroom to sit on the padded stool in front of the mirror. Last night, when Nikola suggested this subterfuge, I readily agreed, too raw from the night to fathom allowing yet another person to touch me.

  At least with Nikola, I’ve come to terms with having him in my personal space. He’s a familiar, if unwanted, presence.

  He finger-combs my red curls and tsks quietly under his breath. “We should dry your hair.”

  “Just put it up.” Anxious, I check the time on the mirror. 0440. My scheduled wake-up time is Half-Light, at 0500. My fingers dig into the fabric of my slacks. “Hurry. It can dry later.”

  In the mirror, Nikola’s face remains impassive as he deftly weaves my ha
ir into a complicated braid that doubles back on itself to tuck neatly underneath. His fine black eyebrows twitch, as if to pinch together, before his brow smooths out once more.

  Unable to stay still, I fidget. “Does this make you happy?”

  His gaze lifts to meet mine, black eyes inquisitive. “Does what make me happy?”

  “A maid could do this.” I lift a hand to my hair without touching it. “Don’t you feel your skills are underutilized?”

  The corners of his mouth tighten. “I’m happy to serve you in any way you allow.”

  “Nikola.” My tone comes out sharper than I planned, a reprimand for the boy I grew up with and not for the man trained to please me.

  His fingers smooth down a few flyaway strands, tucking them into the tight coil. “What else would I do?” Bitterness coats his tone. “I was raised to love politics. It’s all I know. Standing at your side is my greatest ambition.”

  “You could join the Peace Keepers, rise through the ranks, become Mr. Blue someday.”

  He huffs out a quiet laugh. “Excuse me for not wanting to pass out tickets for traffic violations for the next five years.” His humor dims. “Besides, I don’t have the family connections to become head of the Blue Guard.”

  “No, I suppose not.”

  While the city council works in conjunction with the Peace Keepers, and often implements laws through them, the position of Mr. Blue is elected through internal avenues within the Peace Keepers to maintain balance in the government. It’s a careful tightrope of safeguards set in place so no single part of the government can take full control.

  Nikola tucks a few more stands away, then steps back. “Should we find your shoes, too?”