Rosalind glanced down at herself. The white dress Aurora had given her was crumpled from sleep, and her long hair was tangled into knots. She looked like a disaster, and she tried to smooth out her tangles

Footsteps sounded behind her; she turned to see Caine, his hair gently rumpled from sleep. He wore an undershirt that showed off his athletic form.

She had a bad feeling that the only way to get this mage out of her body would be through powerful magic—the kind that Caine had—except the Vampire Lord wanted her to remain possessed. Ambrose had some sort of big plans for her. What was the likelihood of Caine defying him?

She’d have to tap into his anti-authoritarian nature.

“I hope you slept well,” he said. “Might as well get comfortable for a while since you’re apparently staying here.”

“I slept fine.” There was no way she’d be staying, but she’d wait a moment before bringing that up. “I take it you’re not thrilled about having me here.”

He leaned against a granite countertop. “As it happens, I have better things to do than to train a novice Hunter in the dark arts. Especially a noble-born girl who will go into hysterics every time things get a little difficult.”

Arrogant prick. Everything about him irked her. “That’s fine by me, because I’m not actually going to train with you. I’ll be out of here as soon as I get… everything sorted out.”

“And what do you expect to sort out? Do you have a plan now? Or still just a desire?”

Her stomach rumbled. How was she supposed to come up with a plan with a stomach this hollow? “I have a strong desire for some food.”

“I don’t keep the house well-stocked. I’m not exactly the cooking type. When Aurora gets up, we’ll go out somewhere.”

“Is she your girlfriend?” Rosalind asked.

He arched an eyebrow, crossing to the living room. “No. Interesting that you asked though. I seem to recall you saying I’m not your type. I’m not sure that I believe you anymore. You’ve now inquired about our family affiliation and my relationship status.”

She failed to suppress an eye roll. The ego on this guy is unparalleled. “You’re probably glamoured, just like my Guardian said. Under your demigod facade, I’m sure you look like a beast.”

He flashed a half-smile. “Is that so?”

She flushed. Why did he make her so nervous? She usually made men nervous, not the other way around. “It’s basic witch-lore. Magic pollutes the body and turns humans into monsters.”

“Demigod, was it? Tell me, what is the most impressive part of this beautifying spell I’ve woven? Do you think I did a better job on my face or my body with this—demigod spell? I’d really love to hear more.”

Her stomach fluttered. Shit. Josiah hadn’t been wrong about the disfigurement, had he?

She gritted her teeth. “Please tell me it’s a spell. Because based on the number of mirrors around this place, I’m a little worried about what would happen if your ego grows any bigger than it already is.”