I was put on this earth to be Octavia’s other half, her counterpart, whatever word people like to use for it, even her mate if they want to strip it down to something animal. The idea almost makes me snort at myself for how ridiculous it sounds.
What the hell has happened to me, when the only thing I would ever have called romantic until now was killing, annihilation, and blood.
I have always thought blood was romantic, the colour of it… the permanence.
I shake my head at myself and look over at my dear cousin.
“I thought you couldn’t stand Reyes. Or weren’t your exact words something along the lines ofbeing around her is counterproductive?” I do my best imitation of his voice. “And yet here you are, flying across Europe for her. What would daddy dearest have to say about that?”
If looks could kill, I would drop dead just about…now.
“Don’t start. I am frankly not in the mood for your nonsense today, and this is hardly the ideal setting to pick a fight, not when we are confined to such a limited space and surrounded by custom furniture I had imported from Japan.”
I swear the man was born into the wrong family. A Bratva heir, when he should have been the Prince of England. He even has a British accent. Hell, most of us do.
I have spent more time in England than I ever did in Russia, which is hardly surprising considering my sperm donor shipped me off at three and left other people to deal with me. I know Russian, and I speak it fluently, but time has a way of leaving its mark, and this country has formed British habits into me whether I like it or not.
“Blah, blah, blah, and more blah. Boring. How the fuck we are related is honestly beyond me. I’m not that boring, am I?” I look at Arlo and then Hunter. “Tell me I’m not, because if you say yes, I’ll jump from this plane. I cannot possibly be that dull, tedious, intellectually anaemic bore.”
“Wow,” Isaak deadpans. “Big words coming from someone so… obtuse.”
I take a sip of my vodka. “You’ve rather drifted from the point, and I don’t appreciate it.”
I narrow my eyes at Arlo and Hunter. “You still haven’t answered my question. Am I?”
“Am I what?” Arlo looks up from his phone, and the puzzled expression on his face tells me he genuinely has no idea what theconversation is about, so lost in whatever he has been staring at on his screen.
Hunter takes a sip of his whiskey. “You’re not boring,” he says. “Just juvenile. And me entertaining this makes me gullible.”
Isaak takes a sip of his drink. “Insulting yourself like that rather proves the point,” he says. “It does, in fact, make you gullible, and insipid.”
“Anyway,” I say, “do you understand that you’re bickering—”
“I am not fucking bickering,” Arlo snaps, disgust obvious on his face.
I narrow my eyes at him for interrupting me and toy with my lighter, needing something to occupy my jitteriness in such a small space.
“As I was saying,” I continue, “before I was so rudely interrupted.” I send a pointed look in Arlo’s direction. “The lot of you are bickering about your supposed nemeses, revenge, plans, whatever you want to call it. And despite that, you are all flying to another country because, apparently, you hate them so very much.”
Hunter looks at me. “You’ve been sulking since she boarded her flight, and you want to lecture us about our issues?”
“Well,” I shrug, “at least I’m not hiding it, unlike you, cowards.”
Arlo shoots me a death glare, then looks at Hunter and smirks. “She didn’t even tell him she was going. Looks like that’s where it ended… their relationship. What was it, two months? It actually lasted longer than I thought it would.”
Hunter speaks. “They’re not even together. Don’t feed his delusions.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I snap. “She’s mine.”
Isaak smirks. “Does she know that?”
“Not yet,” I say calmly. “But she will.”
Arlo chuckles. “Wow. You sound unhinged.”
I turn my head slowly. “Says the man currently tapped into Adelaide’s jet security cameras just to keep an eye on Ophelia.”
His smile drops.
