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Unopened Letters

Published by J. M. Jones

Copyright 2018 J. M. Jones

Smashwords Edition





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Table of Contents

Unopened Letters

About J.M. Jones

Unopened Letters

"I thought I heard something in here."

Percival stills, his hand hovering over a stack of opened letters. Pretending not to exist might not guarantee his safety or improve his chances of getting out of here alive, but his plan has already bit the dust.

The soft click of the door echoes through the room, and Percival closes his eyes. Warning bells fill his head, his breath catching when the floor creaks beneath another person's weight. Their approach dashes any last hope he had of remaining undetected. His access to all this uncensored information will disappear forever as soon as they realize who he is. Percival gives them five minutes before that happens.

Laughter from the dinner part down the hall mocks his situation. Moments ago, Percival was on a high knowing that they were oblivious to his presence, but now he braces himself to be dragged out in front of them. All the attendants of that party are wolves, ready to devour anyone at a moment's notice.

There is the possibility that Percival didn't think this through. Going over things has never helped him before. The few times that he has tried to consider the potential consequences of his actions, things have gone worse than he ever thought they would, but sneaking into this house tonight might have required some forethought. Percival swallows back the wave of fear that washes over him. The only thing left to do is what he always does. Bullshit his way through this conversation, then find an escape route.

That way, Joseph will still have to cough up enough money to buy him a few rounds at the pub, just as he promised before dropping Percival off an hour ago.

Something brushes against his waist, as light as a feather. Percival inhales sharply, the desk pressed against his thighs, before they press their hips flush against him, effectively pinning him in place. There is no time to speak before an exhale warms the back of his ear, and he becomes nothing more than a butterfly with its wings pinned in place.

"How goes your search, little thief?" comes the whisper at his ear.

A shudder works its way through his shoulder, the only answer Percival can give like this. Most everyone back at the house would be surprised at the lack of a witty comeback, but none of them are here right now.

The only people here are him and Viktor le Fey, and Viktor wouldn't know anything about Percival's typical responses. And with that voice, already ingrained in his memory, this couldn't be anyone other than Viktor le Fey. It's low enough to catch a person's attention and smooth enough to keep it there, caught in a trap that only Viktor himself controls. Percival has seen it happen enough times, typically at the negotiations both of them attend.

Never has that voice been directed at him.

"No need to panic. It's just an innocent question," Viktor continues, his words filled with teasing superiority. "Although, I'd prefer someone else explain this to the others, if I were you. Some things might get lost in translation that way."

"I'm not going to-"

Percival cuts himself off, abruptly aware that Viktor will use anything he says against him. No matter how well-intentioned he sounds, Viktor is not his friend. And even a friend might take advantage of finding him sneaking into another family's office during a dinner he wasn't invited to, if it benefited them. It would certainly benefit Viktor.

Viktor chuckles, and the sound vibrates through them both. "How cute."

"Stop making light of the situation," Percival snaps.

"Oh, I'm sorry, would you prefer it if I called you something else, little thief? Adorable might work, although cute and hopelessly naive are the ones I personally prefer."


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