To say the city was huge was an understatement of the century. Jason salivated at the chance to wander about the ancient city and take in its splendor, but they had pressing matters to deal with first. After thirty painstaking minutes of weaving through traffic, they finally reached the gates of the castle. Another set of guards approached the car and started scanning the SUV with handheld devices. Probably looking for bombs or gremlins hiding under the car.

After ten minutes of groveling in front of the guard dogs and promising not to set the castle ablaze, the guards allowed them passage. Ishmael drove into a massive courtyard where dozens of hunky soldiers were running through their drills. Ishmael's cough pulled Jason out of his drooling session.

"Let's get going," Ishmael said with a chuckle as he exited the SUV.

Jason swallowed his hormones down his throat and exited the car. Jeez, I need to get laid. Jason readjusted the iron rod in his faded jeans before he jumped out of the car and into the windswept courtyard. The icy conditions didn't bother Jason; on the contrary, he unzipped his jacket and threw it back into the front seat of the vehicle.

"Are you mad? It's below zero and you're walking around in a t-shirt," said Ishmael.

Jason shrugged as he opened the back passenger door to retrieve Mallory. She was still asleep. For how long? Not even Jason knew, but he hoped that she'd wake up soon. He really missed her snarky comments and overoptimistic personality that burned his pessimistic one to cinders.

"Yeah, you're a real bummer most of the times," said Cyron, sticking his opinion to Jason's ass.

Jason scoffed as he took the sleeping beauty in his arms. "Bite me."

"Kinky bastard."

Just as Jason wanted to shoot off another comeback at the hydrant-humper in his head, a young woman cleared her throat. He twisted around and came face-to-face with professor McGonagall's younger sister, crazy hat and all. Seriously, it freaked him out. She wore a black Victorian choker dress and high-heeled shoes.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," the lady said in a chirpy tone of voice.

Jason stared at the lady imitating a fish out of water. If it wasn't for Ishmael's intervention, it would have turned into a staring contest. "Good afternoon, Ms. Bell. It's a pleasure meeting you again." Ishmael strutted up to the woman and kissed the back of her hand, earning a furious blush from the woman.

Ms. Bell smiled while patting her brown hair she tied into a tight bun. "A gentleman as always, I see." Her blue eyes hopped over to Jason, who stood at the bottom of the staircase. "An who's this?"

"This is my friend, Jason Brooks—"

Her eyes hardened, and her smile disappeared faster than mist in front of a raging sun. "The hellspawn." Her nose flared. Most likely sniffing at Jason. "The king's not going to appreciate bringing the monstrosity into his home."

Jason bit down before he growled at the bitch. Monstrosity? The only monstrosity I see is her taste in fashion. It died in the Victorian Era.

"My sincerest apology—"

"Don't even finish that, Ish." Astrid interrupted them. As she approached them, her heels clacked on the stone paving. Her red eyes shredded into the bitch. "She has always been a stuck-up whore whose mouth is too big for her station."

Astrid strutted up the staircase while her voluptuous ass danced from hip-to-hip, earning several lustful stares from across the courtyard. She came to a halt beside the bitch, who gulped down her fear. "I've known Killian for over a century, Ryla, and we both know he doesn't give a shit about something as pitiful as race. The only monstrosity here is the wench with a holier-than-thou attitude. And for Hades' sake, get laid. We can smell your arousal from the other side of the castle and I highly doubt it that Ishmael would tap you—you're too frigid for him."

Jason clenched his jaw, trying not to laugh at the woman's humiliation; however, when Mallory began to shiver, his laugh died in his chest. "Can we get inside? My friend is freezing her ass off and if anything happens to her, ," Jason threatened them, allowing Cyron's aura to seep out.

The color drained out of the woman's face. Then she stuttered, "Very well, follow me." She twisted on the spot and bolted up the steps. Jason followed the three up the stairs while Darren trailed behind him.

"Nice going... scaring the piss out of the witch," Darren said with a chuckle.

***

After following Ms. Frigid through a massive kitchen, they entered the grandest foyer Jason's toes ever touched. There was a massive contrast between the interior and the exterior of the castle. It was like stepping into another building altogether. On the outside, the castle was gray and imposing, while on the inside, it was modern, colorful, and welcoming. Jason gaped at his reflection through the black marbled floors. How long did it take the servants to polish the floors? However, his amazement shot through the vaulted ceilings when he was nearly blinded by all the gold that covered nearly every surface, from the ceilings to the furniture.

"I didn't know Donald Trump was the Alpha King," Jason muttered out loud.

Astrid burst out laughing while Ms. Frigid glared at him. "I wouldn't expect someone like you to appreciate the finer things in life." Her eyes flicked up and down Jason's modest attire, which was a faded pair of jeans and a red t-shirt.

Jason scoffed at her and said, "Like who? A person with a golden dildo shoved up their ass?"

This made Astrid and Darren clutch their stomachs as they laughed. Even Ishmael struggled to keep his poker face intact. But if looks could kill, the witch would have shot him with a fireball. Her fingers twisted into fists while she glared at him. Jason sensed her power coalescing into her fists.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Ms. Bell," Jason said. "You may have magic at your command, but so do I."

The lights in the grand foyer dimmed, as if the light itself was sucked out of the air. The floor darkened as it did back at the Collective's headquarters. Several footsteps filled the room as six royal guards entered the room with their weapons drawn.

"That's enough, Jason," scolded Ishmael. "Withdraw your power before you cause a scene. They're our allies, not the enemy."

Jason snapped out of his murderous intent and drew in his power. As much as Ishmael's words irritated him, his friend was right; they were their allies. Allies they desperately needed. The lights and floor returned to their original state.

"Fine," Jason grumbled. "Just keep the witch out of my way before I rip her throat out."

It was the witches' turn to scoff. "As if you'd succeed. The king would have you rung up before you'd lift a finger against me. He knows how to deal with an unruly pup."

"Trust me, bitch. My bite is worse than my bark, and I can assure you, your king has never dealt with someone like me. I'm one of a kind."

Ishmael turned to the witch and said, "Can we get a move on, Ryla? Killian won't be impressed with how his governess treats his guests."

"I can hardly count you as guests when you arrive at such short notice and in such poor company."

"I'm really getting annoyed at this woman," Cyron chirped into the conversation. "I'd love to tear the flesh off her body."

Jason cringed. "Vicious, much?"

"Hardly... In the underworld, she'd end up swimming in the river Phlegethon for all eternity while screaming her bitch-ass lungs out."

"Jason?" Ishmael snapped his finger in front of his face. "Are you still with us?"

Jason shook his head while adjusting Mallory in his arms. "Sorry, I talked to Cyron for a moment."

"You speak to that thing inside you?" asked the witch in a disturbed tone of voice. Jason noticed beads of sweat running down her temples.

"Good. The witch is scared. She should be."

"It has a name," Jason retorted. "But I don't expect people like you to appreciate the efforts in keeping the demon from flaying you alive." Her eyes widened at his words. "But keep flapping your gums as you have been doing, and I might give Cyron a bit of playtime."

The witch waved the guards off, trying to cover her fear, which was futile. She reeked of it. She then turned around and walked toward the grand staircase. "Come... I'll show you to your quarters until the king returns. He'll deal with you soon enough."

"Can't wait," muttered Jason under his breath, earning a snicker from Astrid.

They followed the governess up the stairs. Jason looked forward to a hot shower and a heavy plate of food. Mind you, he hoped the witch wouldn't try to poison him. Wouldn't put it past the bitch.

***

After a quiet prayer to the moon goddess not to end up in another dungeon, Jason walked into the grandest bedroom he'd ever seen. Just like the foyer and most of the castle corridors, the room was saturated in black and gold colors. A giant queen sized bed able to accommodate six people sat propped up against a partition that led into a modern bathroom.

"Dinner will be served at six," said the governess with a huff before she slammed the golden door shut.

Jason grumbled, fighting against the urge to slam the woman's face into a wall. But he couldn't. Jason would never lay a finger on a female. He was a gentleman.

He walked up to the bed and gently laid Mallory on the bed. It was a miracle that she didn't wake up during the shit throwing contest. Mind you, Jason thought it a blessing because Mallory would have decked the witch into one of the paintings she blabbered on about during their brief tour through the castle.

Jason crouched beside the bed and pulled a few strands of her brown hair out of her beautiful face. "Mallory?" Jason whispered, earning a groan from his friend. "Mally, wake up." She continued sleeping, snuggling deeper into the gold-tread comforter.

How was he going to get her to wake up?

Jason snapped his fingers when an idea came to mind. Grinning, he cleared his throat and said out loud, "Leave that alone, it is Mallory's. She won't appreciate you stealing her bacon." He addressed the ghost in the room, knowing full well that if someone dared touch her food, they'd die a horrible death.

Mallory bolted up from the bed and glared around the room, looking for the culprit who would dare steal her food, which there was none.

"Good afternoon, Mally?" Jason asked.

Mallory glared at him when she realized there was no one but him in the room and no food to speak of. "You're such a dick, you prick!" She punched him in the arm while yawning. She hissed as she tried to fling her feet off the bed.

"Slow down. Your body needs time to heal."

Mallory took in her surroundings and said groggily, "Why are we in Donald Trump's playroom?"

Jason chuckled, agreeing with her. The opulence and gold-drenched furniture screamed arrogance and entitlement. "No. We're in one of the quest rooms in the Alpha King's castle."

Mallory's green eyes nearly escaped their sockets. "Really!? Damn... I never imagined I'd ever see the inside of the castle. Why are we here?"

"The same reason we headed to the Collective."

Silence fell over the room.

Jason rubbed the back of his neck and said, "I'm really sorry, Mally." His eyes began to tear up. "I never meant for you to get hurt. I'm sooo sorry!" His tears finally fell.

Mallory reached out and cupped his face. "No, no, no. It's not your fault I nearly died—"

"You did die, Mally." Tears continued soaking Jason's face. "If it wasn't for Cyron, you wouldn't be sitting here talking to me right now."

"Well, if that's the case, then I need to thank him." Cyron perked up, his ears twitching. "You should stop blaming yourself. It was my decision to go with you and I was more than willing to bear the brunt of my decision."

"But it doesn't make it right... Your mate is going to kill me."

Mallory burst out in a fit of giggles and said, "Yes, yes, he is. Now that we have this pity party over with, where's the bacon you talked about?"