"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.
Blue hair aimed a kick his way. "Hey fucker, I wasn't ready."
"Not my problem," Eric said with a negligent shrug.
The third man on the couch snorted. "He's just pissed because he's gotten his ass kicked for the last hour."
Eric didn't respond, mashing the buttons and staring intently at the screen.
"For that, I'm going to make sure all remember your name as a pathetic waste of characters," Blue said, standing and glaring at the screen as his thumb and forefinger moved over the game controller.
The third man shook his head and folded one arm behind his head. "As if you haven't had it out for him since we started." He aimed a lazy smile at the other two. He looked like a warrior from a long-ago era, one more used to swinging a broad sword, than a pen. His hair was dark, almost black, and his skin tan. He'd been turned later in life, if the crow's feet at the corner of his eyes were anything to judge by. His face looked like he'd lived and laughed and loved, the grooves just beginning to form.
"Shut up, Anton. You're just pissed you broke your controller when I pwned your ass on the last level," Blue said, not taking his eyes off the screen. His character switched between a bazooka and a sniper rifle to kill two enemies before he lobbed a grenade into a room.
The screen in front of Eric lit up, and his motions grew more frantic as he tried to lob his own grenade, only to have it rebound toward him.
Nathan stopped next to me and handed me a wine glass as a victorious cry rose from one end of the sectional and a muttered curse from the other side.
"What's this?" I asked, taking the glass. It was dark red, but lacked the consistency of blood.
"Blood wine. It's good. It's how we unwind after a long day. Thought you could use one."
I eyed it with curiosity. "I thought you said the only way we could get tipsy was to drink from an inebriated person." I frowned. At least that's what I thought he had said.
"Wow, she really is new," the Viking said, bending to line up his next shot.
I flicked a glance his way but didn't comment. He was not wrong.
Nathan frowned over at the pool shooter before turning to me. "This is an exception. It has wine and blood in it, but the wine is a fairy wine. The magic inside can make us tipsy if consumed in large enough quantities."
I now understood why my other-sight was seeing white lights fizzing and popping like bubbles in the deep red. That must be the source of the magic.
I hesitated, watching as Nathan took a generous sip of his own. Being tipsy in front of this lot didn't appeal. Any loss of control could mean bad things for me. Trust was not something I gave easily, and no one in this room had earned that.
Reading my hesitation, Nathan said, "Even then, it takes a few glasses before we feel the alcohol's effects."
I took a small sip and made a pleased expression. It tasted good. Better than wine and better than the bottled blood I'd been drinking. It popped and fizzed on my tongue. I didn't know if that was the magic or the wine, but the sensation was close to the bubbly nature of sparkling wine or champagne. So delicious.
"So, what's she doing here?" Blue asked, folding his arms over the back of the sectional and looking at me with dark, curious eyes. He didn't seem antagonistic, even if his question was borderline rude.
Eric set the controller down with a frown. "One of the new werewolves went on walkabout. Aileen has a close friendship with the person in question, and she’s already been contacted once and let her slip away. Until the wolf is found, we're on babysitter detail."
I watched Eric in fascination; it was the most I'd heard him speak. Ever.
Blue raised both eyebrows and whistled. "I'm surprised the alpha didn't demand the yearling's head."
"He has a soft spot for her," Nathan volunteered. "She's saved his life a time or two."
I scoffed. "That man doesn't have any soft spots."