Moonlight's Ambassador (Aileen Travers Book 3)(17)

Too bad his mouth couldn't be equally silent. "Where are you going?"

"To get my stuff. I'm not staying here."

It was his turn to dart in front and bring us to a stop. "Whoa, you know that's not going to work. You're in our charge until your little werewolf friend is found. That's the deal. No renegotiating now."

My glare should have set him on fire with the heat it was generating. "I didn't get a say in any of those negotiations."

He shrugged his massive shoulders, not looking the least remorseful. "Doesn't matter. That's how this cookie crumbles."

I breathed out through my nose. My temper simmered just below the surface. Not even in their stronghold an hour and I was already struggling not to burn the place down. There was more than one reason I'd chosen to isolate myself in my apartment and life. It was a lot harder to lose your temper when you were the only one present, and on the rare occasions when I did lose it, no one was there to see or judge.

I stepped around Nathan and continued down the hall.

"Where are you going now?" he called after me as he ambled after me. The sense of urgency he'd pursued me with earlier was gone.

"My room."

"Ugh, why? We're not done with the tour."

I didn't answer, continuing in the direction I thought my suite was located. Maybe. It was ridiculously easy to get lost in here. The mansion must have a charm that enabled it to be several times larger than it appeared from the outside. The mansion was big from the outside, but it wasn't big enough to house all that I’d seen so far.

"We still have the kitchen to see," Nathan said.

My pace slowed. No, no, don't get distracted. You're mad at him.

"We have a deep freezer. I believe some of the companions have a standing order with that ice cream place you like."

"Graeters?" I asked before I could stop myself.

He shrugged his broad shoulders. "No clue. I don't concern myself with human food brands, but from my understanding, the companions are very particular about their ice cream."

It'd be either Graeters or Jeni's. Columbus natives knew those two had the best ice cream flavors. Either one would hit the spot after the night I’d had.

I backtracked toward him. "Well, then. I guess I can spare a little time out of my busy night to check out this kitchen."

"And finish the tour," he added with a victorious smirk.

I frowned at him. That had not been part of the deal.

He guessed my thoughts before I could say anything. "You want ice cream; you've got to finish the tour."

I slid him a sideways glance. I bet I could find the kitchen by myself. Of course, given the size of this place, I could be wandering for quite a while. My shoulders slumped as I resigned myself to completing the tour.

"Now, on to the entertainment room."

I followed him with grudging steps as he led us through several more hallways, up a set of stairs located in what I thought was the back of the mansion and down another hallway. Unless he had a map somewhere for me, I didn't know how he expected me to find my way alone.

"Here we are," he said, stopping in front of an open entrance that had sound spilling out.

There was no door marking the room, just molding framing the archway. You had to step down onto a fluffy, beige rug that softened your footsteps, before transitioning into a mahogany wood floor. On one side of the room was a pool table, while a dark brown leather sectional sat on the other side in front of the biggest TV I'd ever seen. The room looked like the sort of place you’d find in a mountain retreat, but with all the amenities you could want, including a small kitchenette complete with wine fridge.

It was also occupied. There were two men in the middle of a pool game, while the sectional on the other side of the room was covered with several large bodies as they battled it out in a video game. The game paused as Nathan stepped down, reaching back and tugging me forward, when I would have stepped out of sight. We found ourselves at the center of several curious pairs of eyes.

It was like being the new kid in the middle of the school year. You didn't know what your reception would be—whether the others would welcome you, or treat you to the hairy eyeball and make snide comments to your face before pouring syrup into your locker.

"Nathan, who did you bring us?" one of the men at the pool table asked, pool cue clutched in his hand. His eyes were a pretty hazel, and he looked like a Viking of old—tall, fair, and sporting a beard that somehow made him seem handsome despite the fact I'd never been a fan of facial hair.

"This is Aileen. She'll be staying here for a little while," Nathan said, crossing the room to the wine bar and fishing out a bottle. He poured two glasses.

I stayed where I was, feeling like a gazelle facing down a pride of lions on the African plains. All of the strangers’ eyes remained fastened on me. I couldn't read their intent, whether they were hostile, welcoming, or ambivalent.

"That's the stray yearling, right?" a man sitting in front of the TV said. He looked Asian and had shaved his head on either side, before dying his hair a bright blue and slicking it back from his face. He had a piercing in one ear and a tattoo crawling up his neck.

"That would be the one," Eric said, sitting up from where the couch had hidden his slouched form. He barely glanced in my direction before hitting a button and resuming the game.