Talon
WhatwasIdoinghere? As I pulled into the driveway of the house that gave me nightmares—the place that was never truly a home—I questioned my decision to come alone. I should’ve accepted Lucas and Dominic’s offer to join me. What could my father possibly want after all these years? The fact that he actually called the king still reeled in my mind.
“What’s going on with my family?” I asked as we settled into the king’s study.
Lucas and Dominic were with Lucas’s brother, and I wished I was with them. Anything to do with my family made my stomach roll. My father had basically disowned me after he caught me making out with his best friend, Mark. The fact that Mark was a boy wasn’t the reason—the fact that Mark panicked at seeing his dad and claimed that I forced him was the reason.
Fuck, how could I force him? I was two years younger than Mark, and he had always been the more dominant lion; there was no way I could’ve done anything to him against his will. I was twelve fucking years old. But my pleas didn’t matter; my father and Mark’s father, who coincidently was my father’s best friend, believed Mark. From then on, my home life had turned to shit.
“Your father called me earlier today,” the king’s words pulled me from memories.
“What did he want?” I asked, as my stomach once again did a somersault.
The king handed me a scotch and took the chair opposite me. “He said, and I quote, ‘It’s imperative that my son comes home. He’s not answering our calls, and we need him here.’” King Edward rolled his eyes as he took a sip of his drink. “I, of course, explained that you were indisposed at the moment. I thought you were wooing Lucas. Turns out you were wooing a demon and Lucas.”
I cringed at the harshness in his tone. “I’m sorry for not being upfront. I was confused, and there's a lot of animosity here towards Dominic. It took me a while to realize they were both my mates. And to be fair, I really didn’t realize they were my mates.”
King Edward sighed. “You should have been transparent, but what’s done is done. I trust you won’t keep anything else about the demon from me.”
I bristled at how he referred to my mate. As if the word demon was a curse. “His name is Dominic, and yes, he’s a demon, but he’s also my mate. I’d appreciate it if you’d refrain from disparaging him. I don’t think you would like it if I said something about Brian being a prey shifter.”
King Edward glared at me, but I didn’t submit. Normally, I’d advert my gaze in deference, but this was my mate he was speaking about.
He sighed and softened his gaze. “You’re right. Damn, he really is your mate. You would never think to challenge me otherwise. I apologize. I’ll be more mindful of how I speak about him. He’s going to have enough trouble dealing with Lucas’s family. I won’t add to them.”
I cringed again. He was right. Lucas’s family was going to freak out when they found out about Dominic. The only one who probably wouldn’t was Nana. That woman was a saint and the kind of grandma I wished I had.
“As for your father,” the king continued. “I think you should talk to him. There was something about the tone of his voice.”
“I will,” I agreed reluctantly.
Fuck. That call was why I was here now, standing before the house I grew up in. My father had practically begged me to come. Damn it. Come on, Talon. You can do this. In and out. Sure, you don’t know what’s so important that you come here, but you can do this. You got this.
“You planning on knocking or what?” Tessa’s high-pitched whine pulled me from my internal pep talk. I lifted my gaze and there she stood in the doorway, blocking the entrance as if she was part of the house’s defenses against unwanted pasts.
Tessa hadn’t changed much. She was still as athletic and slender as I remembered, her frame exuding a grace that made her seem almost ethereal in the fading sunlight. Her long, wavy brown hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, giving her a no-nonsense look that clashed with the impish sparkle in her eyes—a vibrant mix of deep green and amber that could always read right through me.
Her button nose wrinkled slightly as she squinted at me, her lips curving into that bright, infectious smile that had always made her the center of attention. It was the kind of smile that could light up a room or, in my case, signal impending doom.
"Come on, Talon. You can do this," I muttered to myself. Her presence was a stark reminder of the past I was trying so hard to distance myself from.
"Nope, I can't do this," I thought, feeling the old weight of this place pressing down on me. But retreating wasn't an option, not today. With a reluctant sigh, I managed a strained smile. "Hello, Tessa," I said, brushing past her into the familiar yet alien interior of my childhood home.
She stepped aside, her smile never wavering, but her eyes, those damn insightful eyes, narrowed just enough to let me know she sensed my discomfort. "Been a long time, Talon. We've missed you around here."
Her words felt like both a welcome and a warning and as I stepped further into the house, the walls seemed to whisper echoes of a past I was not ready to revisit.
The interior of the house had changed little since I'd last been here. The walls were adorned with the same old paintings of landscapes and hunting scenes that had always seemed too grand for our modest living room. The furniture was arranged just as I remembered—meticulously kept and barely used, creating an atmosphere that was more of a showroom than a home. The familiar scent of polished wood and lavender air freshener hung heavily in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of freshly baked bread that somehow made the place seem warmer than it felt. As I took it all in, a wave of nostalgia mixed with unease washed over me, tightening my chest with every step deeper into the house.
Just as I rounded the corner into the kitchen, my mother appeared with the same brisk efficiency that had defined my upbringing. Without a word, she enveloped me in a tight hug, her embrace firm and surprisingly warm. "Talon, my son, you're home," she whispered, her voice thick with emotions that seemed at odds with the composed expression on her face.
I returned her embrace, and for a moment, I was transported back to a time before the incident—the time when she was always there, always ready with a hug. I pulled back, and something else caught my attention: a weariness in her eyes that I hadn't noticed before.
Mom was a quiet woman who always deferred to my father. Perhaps that’s why I never fully blamed her for what happened; I doubted she felt she could stand up to him, even if she wanted to.
“It’s good to see you, Mom,” I started, but a murmur of voices from the kitchen cut me short. “I’m sorry, do you have company?”
My mother’s expression tightened. “Your father,” she began stiffly, “has invited some guests over.”
