Page 73 of The Forbidden Villain
The god of thunder and his wife were devoted to each other, and the most famous myth about them concerns Loki cutting off her hair, so Thor forced him to replace it with golden locks.
That was what made me like Thor right away.
Still, warning bells start to go off in my head at his comment, but I shake my head, forcing myself to focus on the conversation. Just because my online buddy mentioned this to me doesn’t mean anything.
In fact, how hilarious and stupid the assumption that Levi is Lev would be, right? As if this guy doesn’t have anything better to do than discuss TV shows online with me and listen to all my crap.
Levi had access to the best education in the world. Of course he’d know all these things.
“I know who Sif is.” That’s when I look at all the statues again and realize that they all represent Norse mythology gods from Odin to Freya and Thor, with their respective animals nearby. My heart squeezes just looking at them as they always cause this warmth in my chest. For whatever reason, I always loved studying about them. “I thought you guys preferred Greek mythology.”
“My parents do. And while there is a lot to learn from them…I always favored the Norse gods more. Maybe because they helped me during my hardest times.”
That’s so strange to hear in the modern world. “What do you mean?”
“When I was a little boy, my mom would tell me stories about a god of thunder who protected those in need. He was powerful, brave, and stood by his beautiful wife no matter what. I admired him, so I prayed and begged for his help.” His hollow chuckle somehow drops the temperature around us by several degrees, and the air becomes almost suffocating. “And he was the only one who listened.”
Lachlan and Valencia love and adore their children so much that I really can’t wrap my head around Levi needing to pray to the mythical gods as a child. They were my only source of comfort, but he had an entire family to support him.
So what happened?
Levi chooses this moment to park the car by the three-story mansion, allowing me to see more details on it. Like its white and black colors, entwined roses and orchids growing through the concrete, giving the castle splashes of color.
The huge, endless windows hint at a large number of rooms, and I zero in on the small tower in the left wing, which seems to reach the sky while crows circle it, chirping.
Massive double doors with lion statues on either side finish the design, while the brick structure screams power and danger at once, urging one to be very careful if he decides to step inside, because who knows what kind of secrets they might discover there?
I was wrong.
It’s not straight from the fairy tales, no.
Despite the gorgeous nature surrounding it…the castle is haunted, and I wouldn’t be surprised if bats flew out from it, for its darkness and viciousness can be felt from a distance.
I’ve encountered enough castles in my lifetime to know.
I get out of the car quickly and spin around to face Levi, who gets out as well with a cigarette in his mouth. “Smoking is a disgusting habit. Your mouth would reek of nicotine.”
“You didn’t seem to have a problem with my mouth last night.”
And just like that, all conflicted emotions are gone, and the annoyance is back.
“Is this why you brought me here? To finish what we started?” I tap on my phone. “Keep in mind that my brothers installed an app that tracks me twenty-four seven. So they willfind me.” Okay, this was not what I wanted to say. “And I don’t want to finish what we started.” The words sound unconvincing even to my own ears.
He smirks—freaking smirks as if what I said is the most hilarious thing in the world. Does he take anything seriously, or am I just the exception? “Moy cvetochek, we will finish what we started.”
“Your audacity has to be seen to be believed.”
“Audacity has nothing to do with it. I want you, and I’ll have you. That’s not up for debate. And like I said earlier, I don’t want to talk about your brothers.”
“So why bring me here? You wanted to show off your house?” And how come no one mentioned he has a mansion on the side anyway? I was under the impression he lived at his parents’ house in a separate wing for security reasons.
I’m starting to think I know very little about the Scott or King families—only the facades they wish to share with the world.
I expect him to invite me in, but to my surprise, he moves toward the small asphalt alley leading to the garden, allowing me to explore without destroying the flora or dirtying my shoes.
Instead of answering my question—but when did he ever really?—he fires his own. “Back at eighteen…who did you want to be?”
“What do you mean?” I follow him, and my hands itch to touch the various flowers we encounter on our way. Nothing can compare to nature’s beauty, no matter how much people wish to recreate it.
