The River (Book 3 of The Claiming Series)

Chapter Seventeen

When I wake up the next morning, Eli is gone.

I sit up in a foggy haze. The left side of the bed where he slept is neatly made. There's a plush chair in the corner of the room between the door to the bathroom and a large, arching window with the blinds shutting out the sun. In the chair is a folded set of clothes and a yellow sticky note on top.

I slide off the bed—which is pretty high off the ground—and approach the chair. The note is for me, written in pen in neat handwriting. It reads: "Went to go take care of some things. Sleep as long as you like and feel free to come find me when you wake up. I should be in the ballroom. Hopefully these clothes from Lily's closet fit you. -Eli".

I stick the note on the arm of the chair and pick up the set of clothes and unfold them. A pair of jeans and a baby blue blouse with off the shoulder sleeves. My stomach turns at the thought of going to find Eli and running across Eli's mother or sister. They'll see me wearing Lily's clothes and explode.

But I don't want to wear yesterday's clothes. They're stained with blood on the back from when I ran into that man.

I change in the bathroom just in case Eli walks in, and then I pull my dark hair up in a messy bun. I come out feeling more awake.

I go to the door and open it slowly.

No one's out in the hall. I slip outside and shut the door behind me.

I try retracing my steps along with wracking my memory for the layout of this place. Eventually, after a couple wrong turns and backtracking, I'm at the base of the main staircase, staring at the large double doors of the ballroom. They're shut tight.

"It's you."

At the sounds of an unfamiliar voice, I turn around.

Approaching me from the darkened corridor leading to the kitchen is Paisley.

Long near-black hair, perfectly crafted face and eyes, slender figure, elegant clothes. Poised.

And then there's me. Messy hair I attempted to fix and ended up pulling out of my face, probably a little too skinny, borrowed clothes. Ballet has given me some hardcore posture, though. I won't knock myself on that.

I stare at her in shock. She intimidates the crap out of me. She's nearly a foot taller than I am.

Her face is neutral, but her eyes pierce my soul. I want to run and hide.

"I saw you go into Elijah's room last night," she hisses, stepping towards me. "I can have you arrested for that. Sleeping with another woman's husband is punishable by death in Bayfell."

I reel, anger replacing my fear. I ball up my fists and lift my chin. "First of all, I didn't sleep with him. And second of all, he's not your husband. And third, this isn't Bayfell, princess. It never will be."

She strides closer to me, coming within an inch of my face. Her finger jabs my collarbone, her long pointed nails digging into my skin. "It will be when I marry that man. You'll be the first thing to go."

Thing.

The door suddenly opens, and Angel stands there. Her face is shadowed by grief, and she wears a short black dress. Her hair is tied up in a knot.

She beckons for Paisley to come with her into the room.

Paisley shoots me a hostile grin.

"Both of you," Angel says, looking at me as well.

Paisley's face turns sour.

Angel doesn't seem surprised at all that I'm here. In fact, she looks calmer at the sight of me. It could be the bad lighting, though. The natural light from the broad windows in the entryway is dimmed from the oncoming storm outside.