The golden child earns a reproachful look from our mother for speaking with his mouth full, but her eyes hold a fondness she hasn’t directed at me in a decade.
“Ciprian,” my father drawls. “Perhaps a formal setting would be more appropriate for this conversation.”
Ignoring my little brother’s look of annoyance, he offers Gideon his hand without even looking at me. It’s a deliberate slight. I’m his fucking son.
Gideon shoots me a worried look as he returns the handshake, but it’s not his fault. Even if affection holds no sway with my father, etiquette dictates he should greet me first. But Dimitri Casanell’s priorities have always been crystal clear. I’m way too used to coming in last place to anyone and everything to be hurt by his calculated micro aggressions. It’s not worth getting worked up over.
When father finally turns to greet me, I deny him the courtesy of standing. Instead, I give his hand a brief shake, and then slap my brother's greedy fingers away from the platter of cookies.
Ciprian looks more like our parents every time I see him. He's pale and blonde, with neatly waving hair and sparkling white teeth. If I look like a dark, evil demon cliché, then all three of them look like some sort of pop culture caricature of angels.
They would hate that comparison, but it fits. Except in the eyes. There, unfortunately, lies a genetic marker that was impossible to dodge, even for me. While my mother has soft, gray eyes, my father's are as black as obsidian. Both Ciprian and I share that feature. Our soulless void eyes are anything but angelic.
Clearing my throat, I pull my gaze away from my family and address Joshua directly because one, I’d rather talk to him, and two, I know it will piss my father off.
“We were right to worry. There is a supernatural gang trafficking in weaker species. Besides the alpha wolf’s niece, the women we rescued outside of Boulder were prey shifters living with no protection to speak of. They were easy pickings.”
Sarah makes a distressed sound, but I already know what she's winding up to ask.
“We offered them the protection of the enclave, but they didn’t want to leave.” I run a hand through my hair. “Neither ofthem have ever been more than fifty miles away from where they were born.”
Sarah pinches her eyebrows together. “I believe you, sweetheart... but were you scary?”
I picture Gideon’s massive lion teeth dripping with blood and the heads literally rolling around on the floor of the barn.
“Of course not. We rescued them and were nice as hell,” I assure her, but she’s not convinced. From the look on her face, I can tell she doesn’t want to drop it.
“The captives aren’t important,” Gideon jumps in. “The guys I... err... neutralizedwere vermin, low-level puppets. There's no way they were pulling the strings.”
“You think someone with power is organizing these traffickers from the shadows? Snatching people up in ourterritory?” Joshua’s voice rumbles like a landslide, and I'm reminded why he's a scary fucker to most people.
When we both nod, Joshua turns to my father. “We’ll have a talk with the puppet, Dimitri. If this goes as deep as the boys suspect, they'll need help.”
Oh, fuck no.
Both Gideon and I protest, but Joshua silences us with a look.
“If you think I will put either of your lives at risk to protect your foolish pride, you've got another thing coming.” He pins us both under the weight of his stare. “If the enclave determines backup is called for, you will both accept the help and say ‘thank you’ with smiles on your faces.” By the end of his rant, he’s red in the face.
Sarah places a soothing hand on his arm.
“Of course, the boys will take reinforcements if it’s too dangerous. Don't get yourself worked up, darling.” Her words are calm, but her narrowed eyes are back on us in obvious warning.
I feel like a moth pinned to some scientist’s board.
Now I’m even more certain she knows something is going on. She’s sparing us right now, but it won’t be long until we face her questions head on. That’s a lot more intimidating than her husband's bluster.
As we talk well into the night, I dodge barb after barb from my brother, enduring his constant attempts to put me in my place.
As if I could ever forget.
I’m Callum—black sheep, disappointment extraordinaire, and displaced heir to the Hall of Nightmares.
When we finally retire for the night, Gideon and I leave the cozy kitchen to return to our childhood bedrooms. Gideon’s room is just down the hall, but mine is in the marble tomb that masquerades as the demon wing. A chill settles over my skin.
After exchanging perfunctory goodnights with my parents, I close my bedroom door in my brother’s face. With any luck, the insufferable shit won't be part of the backup team Joshua threatened us with.
When I slide under the covers, I think about Sheena's pretty blushing cheeks and Sarah's curious looks. It’s clear now, we haven’t buried our secrets well enough, and eventually, some of them will come to light.
