She’s not yours, I remind myself. Not really.
Iris drops her bag by the stairs, and I follow suit, ignoring the voice that shouts at me to take my things and secure them behind a locked door somewhere. Or to scrub myself down with mint and blank so Mother will not inquire as to my whereabouts. But I forget the urge as Iris takes my hand, lacing our fingers together.
“What’s that smell!” she shouts back, dragging me through a maze of hallways.
The house may look small compared to the manor, but the rooms make good use of the space available.
Furniture and art are dotted around the house, and we pass by several photos of a young Iris and a boy not much older. In every photo, their faces are pressed together, like they’re clinging to one another for dear life. Smiles stretched to capacity.
It’s an image I’m familiar with.
That’s how Vanessa and I used to look, before they broke her.
Around them are pictures of a dark, thin man and a woman as striking as Iris, the two of them fully embracing with contented smiles.
The further we go, and the more pictures I see, the more my wolf relaxes. But it isn’t until we round the corner into the library, and a tall man with dark eyes and a smile just like hers confirms my suspicion.
Siblings.
“Ah,” Isaac exclaims as he looks at me. “You brought a man with you?”
Iris wrinkles her nose, pressing her free hand to my arm.
“A friend,” she says.
Isaac’s eyes track down to the place where our fingers are still laced together, and he lifts a brow. At which, Iris releases me, and I have no choice but to hate him.
“Elliot, this is my brother, Isaac Ashbourne. Isaac, meet Elliot Cross.”
“Cross?” Isaac repeats, a hint of skepticism in his voice.
I brace for my family’s reputation to railroad me. They aren’t exactly unknown in the high-born circles, and judging from the crest hung above the mantle and Iris’s general spoiled nature, it’s safe to assume the Ashbournes’s rank is pretty high. Not as high as me, but high enough, they know the name Cross is synonymous with blood.
But Isaac only smiles as he goes on staring at me.
“Happy to have you,” he says.
He doesn’t reach out a hand, so I don’t offer one. Instead, I trail after Iris like a puppy as she moves around the room.
The library is less of a library and more like a den. The tall floor-to-ceiling bookcases line the walls, but there is an array of seating around the room, and a small piano set off to one side. She drags her finger over the spines as she walks the perimeter before propping herself up on the piano bench, absently tapping at the keys.
There’s no real melody to it, just a few notes thrown together to amuse herself, but Isaac quickly declares it a nuisance, and she slams her arm across the lower octave, sneering at him.
“What’re you cooking?” she asks, going back to her lazy tune.
“Pot roast,” Isaac answers. “But I like what you brought better. Maybe we can trade.”
Iris giggles, and I turn to see Isaac leaning against the back of the sofa, staring at me hungrily. My wolf bristles and my tail stiffens, and my reaction doesn’t go unnoticed.
“Oh,” Isaac says. “Does my staring bother you?”
I blink, surprised by how forward he is. Although I’m not sure why. Iris was just the same when we first met, always saying exactly what was on her mind at any given moment.
I miss that, actually. Now, she just lies to me and tells me ‘I’m fine.’
“Isaac—”
She prepares to scold him on my behalf, but I cut in.
