Page 33 of Fall into Place

Tess knew from Blood Feud that Nantale’s compound was laid out in a giant triangle, and everything about the building was designed to intimidate and confuse potential intruders: Stairwells jutted off at odd angles, hallways stopped in dead ends, and secret rooms abounded. As Tess followed Callum, she noted intricate gray marble-tiled floors that looked almost braided, high arched ceilings, and an assortment of spectacular paintings hanging from the walls, which were upholstered in dark velvet.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “can you walk a little slower? I’m trying to remember some landmarks so I can navigate this place.”

“Oh.” He paused. “You just have to look at the paintings, see?”

He pointed out the paintings in this hall—a series of wryly surrealist works by Magritte—his hand brushing briefly against Tess’s arm.

“What, um”—she cleared her throat—“what about the paintings?”

“They’re chronological. If they’re getting older, you’re moving clockwise. Newer, you’re going counterclockwise. So if the paintings are getting more modern, you’re heading toward the entry, older, back toward your room. You follow?”

“Oh!” Tess remembered a Botticelli outside her room—so in the space of a few minutes, they’d moved from the Italian Renaissance to the 1920s. Sure enough, she saw some Dalí up ahead. “That’s really cool.”

“Cool,” Callum mocked, and Tess felt annoyed and embarrassed in equal measure.

“Um, who thought of that?” she asked. “It’s a really clever system.”

Callum didn’t answer—great, was he just flat-out ignoring her now? But as they walked into the compound’s entry, a grand room with a rotunda-like ceiling, he responded gruffly, “My sister.”

“Good, you’re here.” Nantale stood in the center of the room, looking at them expectantly. She was dressed in a vibrant purple kaftan and holding a perfume atomizer made of carved iridescent glass. “I have something for you, girl.”

“What is it?” Tess asked.

“Egyptian musk oil, several thousand years old,” Nantale explained. “To mask your human scent. You will wear this anytime you leave your rooms, even inside the compound. Understood?”

“Do you think I need—” Tess swallowed hard. “I mean, am I not safe here?”

“I believe the vampires within these walls will follow my orders,” Nantale reassured her. “But I also think temptation is best avoided, do you agree?”

“Absolutely.” Tess nodded vigorously. Nantale handed her the bottle, and Tess applied a generous spritz—she noticed Callum’s eyes flick to her neck as she did so, and applied two extra sprays for good measure. The scent was deliciously warm and earthy, and Tess was grateful that if she had to smell like this all the time, at least she’d enjoy it.

“I think that’s plenty.” Nantale smiled. “Give me the bottle, I’ll have it sent to your rooms. Callum, may I speak to you for a moment before you go?”

“Of course.” He turned and eyed Tess. “Don’t move.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Tess clipped.

Callum and Nantale sped down another hall and out of sight. It unnerved Tess, being among creatures that could move so fast—knowing that if she was ever in danger, she had no hope of running away.

And Tess’s safety was top of mind in this particular moment—because the second Callum and Nantale disappeared, Tristan strolled into the room, moving slowly, never taking his eyes off Tess. Everything about him was icy, from his pale blond hair to his bone-chilling smile.

“Alone at last,” he said quietly.

“Callum will be back any second.” Tess’s voice came out high and choked.

“You may be right.” Tristan approached her, his motions like liquid, footsteps so light she couldn’t hear them. “Perhaps I should wait to drink you until we have more time. Can’t be sloppy about it.”

His voice was quiet, barely more than a whisper—but he was close enough now that Tess could hear every syllable. He inhaled deeply, taking in her scent.

“Musk oil?” He smiled. “Clever. But it won’t change the way you taste.”

“If you harm me, Nantale will know it.” Tess clenched her teeth.

“Do you think?” Tristan cocked his head. “Suppose there’s only one way to find out.”

His eyes were dark with hunger, and as he smiled, his fangs grew longer, just as Octavia’s had back in The Georgia—oh god, should she scream?

But before she had to decide, Callum reappeared in the room, and Tristan was gone so fast it was like he had never been there at all.