“I’m fine, Nana,” I replied, trying to sound more confident than I felt. Discussing my unresolved feelings about Talon was not an option—not when he hadn’t even acknowledged me.
“Uncle Lucas, you don’t have to be scared of the predator shifters,” Simon piped up from the backseat. “Uncle Edward said his lions wouldn’t hurt us.”
Catching his reflection in the rearview mirror, I offered a reassuring smile. “I’m not scared, Simon.”
“But Mama said you’re scared of predators and don’t like to shift,” Simon persisted, his youthful curiosity evident.
“I shift,” I countered, a tinge of defensiveness in my voice. The memories of my experiences, ones I preferred to keep buried, nudged at the edge of my consciousness. Shaking off the thoughts, I focused on the road ahead.
“Not like the rest of us,” Simon argued. “You always seem… different about it.”
Eva chimed in, her voice a mixture of pride and challenge. “Uncle Lucas shifted in front of everyone once, even in front of Mr. Talon and Uncle Eddie. So, he’s not scared!”
“Don’t call Uncle Edward, Eddie,” Simon corrected her. “He doesn’t like it. But when did Uncle Lucas shift?”
Eva, not one to back down, crossed her arms defiantly. “You weren’t there, but he did. So, Uncle Lucas isn’t scared. And I can call Uncle Eddie, Eddie, if I want. That’s what Uncle Brian calls him.”
“Okay, enough, you two,” I interjected, keen to steer away from the topic. “I’m not scared. Not that it’s not okay to be afraid sometimes. Everyone is at one point or another. I did and do shift. That’s enough of that. We’re pulling up, so behave.”
“Your Uncle is right,” Nana agreed.
Turning, I passed the large wrought-iron gates and drove down the cobblestone drive. Louie pressed his face against the window, his eyes wide with awe. “It’s even bigger than I remember!” he exclaimed.
A smile found its way to my lips, almost unbidden, as the children’s unbridled enthusiasm washed over me. Their wonder momentarily lightened the bundle of nerves tightly coiled within me. I took a moment to drink in the sight of the pride house — the lawn was a carpet of vibrant green, meticulously cared for, leading up to a majestic fountain that danced in the sunlight. The mansion itself, a grand two-story structure boasting over twenty rooms, stood as a testament to the pride’s strength and unity. It was more than just a house; it was a sanctuary for the single lions of the pride, offering ample space and a sense of belonging.
As I pulled the car up to the front of the mansion, I glanced back at the children in the rearview mirror. “Remember, everyone needs to be on their best behavior,” I reminded them, echoing my earlier instructions.
Their response was a chorus of earnest “We will,” filled with the sincerity only children can muster. I couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride — despite their excitement. They understood the importance of respect and decorum in this new environment.
After shutting off the engine, I inhaled deeply, bracing myself for the upcoming encounter. Stepping out of the car, I moved to assist the kids. Nana, ever-efficient, had already helped Louie out of his seat. Together, we herded the children towards the pride house’s imposing wooden entrance.
As if on cue, the door swung open, revealing Carl, the venerable butler of the house. In his seventies, Carl’s hair was a distinguished mix of black and gray, complementing his crisp black suit and gray waistcoat. But what always struck me most about him was his ever-present cheerful demeanor and his signature bushy mustache.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Bondar,” Carl greeted me with his usual formality.
“Good afternoon, Carl. I hope Brian informed you of our visit,” I replied, adjusting Millie’s grip on my hand.
“He did, indeed,” Carl began, but his words trailed off as he straightened at the sight of Nana. “Ms. Bondar, it’s good to see you again.”
Nana’s cheeks flushed a delicate pink, her eyes twinkling. “Oh, Carl, I’ve told you before. Call me Hilde,” she chided gently, her voice carrying a playful lilt.
I noticed a slight change in her tone, and I wasn’t the only one. Simon and Louie exchanged puzzled glances, their young minds trying to piece together this different side of Nana. It was Millie, bold and curious, who voiced the question aloud. “Why do you sound like that, Nana?”
Before Nana could reply to Millie’s question, a familiar voice filled the air, slicing through the momentary awkwardness. “You made it!” Brian’s voice resonated with warmth and relief.
I watched as Nana’s face, initially etched with a hint of embarrassment, transformed into a look of unmistakable relief. She subtly smoothed her skirt, a gesture I recognized as her way of composing herself.
Turning towards the source of the voice, I saw my brother striding toward us with open arms. Brian’s presence was always commanding, yet there was an easiness to him, a contrast that I’d always admired. His eyes, mirroring the same blue hue as mine, sparkled with genuine happiness at our arrival.
“Hey, Brian,” I greeted him, balancing a mix of affection and a subtle guard I held around the pride members. We embraced briefly, a brotherly gesture that bridged the gap between our contrasting worlds.
Brian stepped back, his gaze shifting to the children, who were now buzzing with excitement at seeing their uncle. “Looks like you brought the whole troop,” he chuckled, ruffling Simon’s hair, who beamed up at him.
Nana stepped forward; her earlier composure regained. “Brian, dear,” she said, her voice now back to its familiar, soothing timbre. “We need to talk. It’s about what’s going on with your friend Owen and… mates.” Her words were measured, hinting at the gravity of the conversation to come.
I couldn’t help but glance at Brian. My curiosity piqued. The mention of mates stirred a whirlwind of thoughts in my mind, especially regarding my own unresolved feelings about Talon.
Brian nodded, his expression turning serious. “Do you know what’s going on with Owen? Why he’s sick? Is it a mate thing?”
