“I told you not to call me that!”
Shit.
I’d fucked up.
I knew better than anyone else not to let my brothers see any sort of chink in my armor. Now that I’d lost my temper and showed them that they’d managed to affect me, it was like a drop of blood in the water, and they were all sharks instead of wolves.
“Dude, chill,” Mason huffed before returning to his phone.
“Aww, come on, Otto, what’s got your britches in a bunch?” my father asked, finally looking up from the farmer’s almanac his eyes had been glued to. I really didn’t understand the point of these family dinners when more than half of us disassociated with some form of media. I guess it was just an old habit rather than anything we actually wanted to do.
“Let’s not rehash this tired argument,” my mother said with a heavy sigh, likeIwas the issue. “Noms doesn’t like that nickname.”
And I didn’t likethateither!
It wasn’t that I was very particular about things, I just didn’t like any “pet” names that were actual insults. Otto could be quirky, maybe even funny if it wasn’t based on mocking me for not having an inner wolf. Otto was short for automatic, and my brothers had started calling me automatic once we all found out that I couldn’t shift. And as for Noms, that was something a group of bullies in the pack used to call me because I supposedly ate way too much at lunch for someone without an inner wolf. And naturally it was short forOm Nom Nom.
“My name isNaomi,” I said, bottling my anger back up inside my skin. Even so, I couldn’t stop the poison dripping from every icy word. But maybe it was okay to let my tongue be the dagger it could be when I lost my cool. “You gave it to me. Use it.”
For the first time in years, everyone at the table stopped and looked at me in various states of shock. There was quiet unknown to the Bracken household, silence so loud it filled up all the spaces between the aged walls.
But I didn’t let myself crumble under the weight of their stares. Instead, I simply took another bite of the food I could hardly taste. “The beans are lovely, by the way,” I lied through my teeth.
Slowly, the rest of my family returned to their own tasks, and my irritation gave way to an unusual feeling of victory. Maybe I could benefit from being a little less passive with my jokester family.
Something to think about.
With my phone back in hand, I texted Rowan back.
Me:I’d love to!
I learned my lesson, however, and didn’t let my gaze linger on the screen. With my brothers subdued, I could focus on the pride in my chest. Rowan had pretty much entirely stopped wearing his wig and makeup while we were together. Sure, people stared sometimes, but I glared daggers at anyone who let their gaze settle for too long. Ever since he had shown me the real him, Rowan had never tried to hide himself again.
It was too bad I couldn’t say the same thing about myself.
TEN
ROWAN
Blood Is Thicker than Water, but That Doesn’t Mean It’s Good
“Wow, I love the vibe of this place,” Naomi said as she sat down across from me.
I could only nod, struck dumb once again by how truly gorgeous she was.
We’d traveled separately, with me walking under the gossamer cloak of city moonlight and her driving her car, so when we’d met at the front of the restaurant, it had been all I could do not to have my fangs pop out and my hunter drive take over.
Naomi had dyed her hair a dark purple, and she was dressed in a deep, crimson dress that clung to every part of her like it was sculpted on. I would have thought that those shades would clash, but on her? Pure ecstasy. Her tanned skin made her look like she’d been lovingly rendered out of beechwood by a master carver creating his magnum opus.
She looked like blood, like conquest. She was lavish, luxurious, andpowerful.It made me hungry in a way I hadn’tfelt in decades, and even as my brain reminded me that I needed to respond to her to carry on a conversation, most of me was clamoring to taste,taste, TASTE!
“Yeah. It’s family-owned. Authentic.” I didn’t know how I was able to communicate that when all my senses were so locked in on Naomi and only Naomi, but I was grateful for my ability to remain a gentleman. My eyes traveled from the veins pulsing just under the skin, barely visible bits of blue as opposed to my many stark, lavender trails, to the swell of her breast, to that amazing softness that some women had just under their belly button, which drove me batty—pun not entirely intended.
My ears were attuned to that musical voice of hers. The rise of it, the dips down into lower tones that reminded me of the smokey-voiced sirens of the fifties and the enchanted melodies they crooned.
I was even wrapped up in her scent. There was her perfume, her body wash, her detergent, but something else as well—a sort of vitality that would make me drool if I wasn’t careful.
And I really,reallywanted to be particularlyuncareful.
