“What?”
I’m curious every time I make Romulus pause like this. He seems so brash and confident, but sometimes my questions take him completely off-guard. Like he’s not used to being challenged.
Either that, or he’s way,waymore covert at manipulation than even his brother.
Because he seems really genuine, even though he’s obviously trying to be off-putting and scary. I guess that’s maybe why I believe everything he says.
I know his objective is to get me to leave. He’s made that crystal clear.
But he keeps forgetting that objective, getting lost in conversation with me instead. Looking reflective. Almost... vulnerable.
“It was the question that used to drive me to distraction,” he says quietly. “Why did Father do it all? War after war, each different but essentially the same. Backing some human leader who would conquer—sometimes whole empires—but only for a time. Eventually, they would fail and be overtaken, everything they’d built falling to ruin.”
He’s not even looking at me anymore. Staring past me at something only he can see.
“My father would then start all over again, whispering promises in the ear of another upcoming warlord. What was the point of it all? And Father remained so robust and determined. I thought for a time he was waiting for the perfect empire. And then I realized—” His voice hardens. “—he hated peace and longed only for the thrill and madness of the conquering. He was like Layden. Always hungry but never satiated.”
His eyes had gone distant while he spoke, but now he blinks. Comes back to me.
“So I don’t know if destruction and devouring somehow fed him, or if he just...”
“Could never be satisfied with the good things he had,” I finish softly.
I’ve known people like that. My ex, for example. Michael could never just be happy with what we had. Always looking for the next thing. The shinier thing. The younger, skinnier thing.
Romulus’s eyes lock with mine.
He nods.
And to my shock, I feel a sizzle of connection. Like a live wire touching water.
Oh.
Then, upstairs, there’s suddenly loud noise and commotion. Voices. Footsteps.
Romulus’s eyes jerk away from mine. He shakes himself—literally shakes his head like he’s clearing it—and pulls back from me. It’s like watching a solid wall fall down between us as he jerks to attention, ramrod straight again.
Every bit of that vulnerability vanishes.
“Good,” he says curtly. “Everyone’s back.”
And just like that, the moment shatters.
FIFTEEN
ROMULUS
I leadthe way up the stairs and try not to hyper-focus on her lighter footsteps behind me.
Abaddon is home. He’ll side with me about the necessity of sending her away.
This is a good thing.
I ignore the clenching in my chest at the thought and channel any emotion I feel into fury at Remus for ever bringing her here in the first place.
I reach the first floor and, across the expanse of the large open room, see my brothers and their families spilling through the front door like a wave of warmth and chaos.
Baby Raven escapes her mother’s arms and immediately takes flight, spiraling in joyous loops toward the high ceilings, her tiny wings beating furiously.
