Once he lays his eyes on Dalton’s photo, he whistles and winks at Killian. “Pre-kill threesome for you and Damen?”
I have many reasons to be annoyed by him, including the fact that he’s loud, rude, spoiled, and usually looks like an advert for luxury brands rather than a person, but this new idea has my guts twisting so violently I itch to grab the billiard cue from the stand and break it over Aspen’s head.
Damen’s faster.
He slaps the back of Aspen’s head but Aspen just laughs, pointing to his helmet. Damen places his arm over Killian’s shoulders, as if his husband were about to run off to grab Dalton from his cell.
Iwas meant to be his last fuck…
“How about you shut your face, huh?” Damen asks, shaking his head, as if that can get rid of the flush coloring his cheeks. “Go and fuck him yourself if you’re that keen.”
Even this exchange is an expression of how comfortable everyone is with ‘the gays’. Especially the younger guys, like Aspen, don’t seem to give a fuck, which is as much of a relief as it is disconcerting, because… have I been living my life in a spiral of angst for no reason?
My father would not have stood for it, but he has been dead for many years now.
Aspen grins at Damen. “If he’s prey today, would that make it zoophilia?”
I can’t stand how they talk about Dalton as though he’s not a real person. “Why are you even dressed like this? You’re not allowed to participate in the hunt.”
Aspen turns to me, blinking as if he forgot my presence. “Oh, I’m not. But I’ll be assisting my dad. I’ll be taking some photos for him. I even got this old-school camera, because Dad insisted the photos need to be analog, for no ‘paper trail’. I don’t think that makes sense, since the printout will be onpaperanyway but I’m not gonna argue.”
Kilian raises his eyebrows. “You’ve got a crossbow.”
Aspen’s smile widens, and his eyes gain a predatory glimmer. He’s a little fucking psycho. “Well yeah, I need to be ready for anything.”
Unbelievable. How can his father encourage this bullshit? But that’s typical. I was held on the shortest of leashes, having to carve out every bit of freedom, but here is my younger cousin, getting to participate in the hunt without the need to fulfill the one rule we’ve all followed for the past hundred years? Just because hereally wants to? I bet his parents let him drive a car before he got his license, and covered any issues with bribes.
“I wonder how you’re going to handle a reality where not everyone caters to you. Daddy won’t be solving your problems forever,” I say through my teeth, eyes passing over Dalton’s photo on the green table. I shouldn’t care. He’s just a hot stud. A dime a dozen on any building site, and yet something needy whispers inside me about the things he did to me last night.
Damen smirks at me, for once on my side when he speaks to Aspen. “You’re going to let him find you a wife too, so you can actually take part next year?”
Aspen rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t get to answer because my mom butts in with her bright smile and steps closer. “Are we talking marriage? Are you finally getting an appetite for hunting, Corvus? I know a few very eligible women.”
The hair on my body bristles as the corners of Damen’s mouth lift.
He knows.
We never spoke about my sexuality, but it takes one to know one, and now that he’s a married man with a husband on his arm, he thinks he’s better than me.
“I’m in no hurry. It’s you who were always obsessed with the Christmas Hunt,” I tell him. And it’s true. I don’t need to put a skull on the wall behind me to call myself a Van der Horn. I’d probably take part if given the opportunity, but I’m in no rush.
Even in high heels Mom has to stand on tiptoes to push some of my hair behind my ear. “It’s not just about that. You could use someone in your life, I always tell you that. And you’d make such a handsome groom. I’d organize everything. We can even make it all black and mysterious, if that’s what you want.”
She’s so excited about it I swallow my scowl.
Killian grins. “Yeah, Corvus. You could have a murder of crows set free at the end instead of doves.”
Mom turns to him as if this is a serious conversation, clicking her fashionable needle-like nails together. “Oh, you can get black pigeons."
“I doubt father would approve if he was here with us,” I say, because recalling the dead has the fortunate side effect of dampening joy.
Mom’s shoulders sag, but it’s been so many years since my father’s death, I don’t feel sorry for bringing it up. “It’s true, he did prefer things somber.” She strokes the lapel of my jacket with a thoughtful expression. “You’re just like him. So you need a bright spark in your life. I’d know.”
Me and my father weren’t exactly alike, but I have to admit that after his death I took on many of his characteristics. And while him and mother were like ice and fire, he did love her. He was the night, and she is a firework. Too bad fireworks are a danger to themselves and those around them in the wrong conditions.
Dalton’s cocky grin appears in my mind unasked for and unwanted.
He’s a dick who provided dick, and that’s that.
