Page 65 of Beast

“Of course,” Susan says, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Sheis very smart and quick. She’s funny, too. I enjoy having her in our family.I’m not worried about that at all. I’m worried about the press. My office hasfielded over a hundred calls about your new consort.”

I knew that would happen. When I came up with whatI now think of as the stupidest plan ever, I counted on it. The press would bethe thing that pushed my father to allow me to live apart from her. Now I’ll doanything to keep the vultures off my consort. I can’t stand the thought ofpeople talking about her, judging her. “Tell them to mind their own business.I’ve been saying no comment to every single one of them.”

“Yes, I know, and that’s a problem,” Susan replies. “It’smaking them curious. There are some reporters saying there’s something wrongwith her. They’re wondering if she can possibly fit into our society. It’s comeup that if someone like Dante Dellacourt had to settle for a damaged consort,we should consider making a deal with Torin.”

I feel my fangs come out. “She isn’t damaged.”

Susan holds her hands up in a conciliatory fashion. “I knowthat. She’s wonderful. But she is outside the norm. She changes into a wolf,for gods’ sakes. We have to reconsider the hardwoods in the penthouse becauseher paws go four different directions when she tries to walk on them in herwolf form. And we need to talk to her about hanging her head out of the windowin the hovercar.”

“She says it feels nice.” Kaja likes the wind in her hair.It’s the only thing she likes about being up so high. I caught her trying tosee the ground more than once. If she makes it to the ground, she’ll beterribly disappointed. It’s noxious down there.

“And I think it’s charming, but the press is going to eather alive over it. I hate it, but we’re a society that thrives on conformity.The occasional oddball can be celebrated, but only when said oddball makes aton of money. Kaja is going to be seen as a cautionary tale if we don’t fixher.”

“She doesn’t need to be fixed.” This is exactly what I’vebeen avoiding. This confrontation. I know Kaja doesn’t fit in. I know she’smiserable.

Not always, that inner voice says. When you’reinside her and you open up, she’s happy.

But it isn’t enough.

Susan stares out the window. It’s a rainy day. Gray cloudsroll by, making the world seem foggy. “Mom thinks bringing in a tutor wouldhelp. Kaja can learn to read and how our society works. I’ve already ordered awardrobe fit for a princess, and I can have Dellacorp’s media advisor train heron how to deal with the press.”

“No,” I say as fast as I can get the word out of my mouth.I’m not about to let the media advisor anywhere near Kaja. Jana is a shark.She’ll eat Kaja up and spit her out. And I slept with Jana. She’s such a bitchshe’ll probably throw it in Kaja’s face just to spite her.

Susan rolls her eyes. “Fine. I’ll try to find someone youdidn’t sleep with, though that makes my job hard.”

Maybe Susan is right. Maybe all Kaja needs is time and sometraining to adjust to her new home. A little kindness from you wouldn’thurt, asshole. I ignore that increasingly loud voice. A present. I’ll gether a present, and that will pacify her.

I have work to do. Work I don’t care about.

“Do what you need to do, Susie. I’m up to my eyeballs inthis sunscreen project.” My eyes trail back to the desk and my mountain ofpaperwork, but my brain goes to a different place. I think about the forest andhow Kaja looks naked on the grass.

Susan considers me carefully. “Yes, I can see that. Itsurprises me.”

“Because you’re shocked I can be professional?” There’s thebitterness that always lurks under the surface.

“No,” Susan replies with a tired smile. “That’s not whatsurprises me. I’m a little anxious about this turn in your behavior because Ialways believed you would leave this plane entirely and join Beck and Ci andfight for their cause. I don’t know how I feel about it. Part of me is utterlythrilled that I don’t have to worry about you dying in their war. And part ofme aches because I don’t think this is who you are.”

Tears threaten. I bite them back. I never once imagined mysister knows me so well. I would tell anyone who asked that my sister rarelythinks of me at all outside of how obnoxious I can be. Was that all my flawedperception? “This is who I was raised to be.”

She shakes her head. “Oh, you’re more, little brother. Ialways knew that. You’re the kid who took on the older, bigger boys becausethey made fun of a girl you liked.”

Fourth grade. Trista. A very nice peasant girl onscholarship. I had no intentions toward her. She was funny and sweet. Shedidn’t deserve to be picked on by sixth graders. I nearly got suspended for thefight I started. “I was young then.”

Susan’s hair shakes as she leans forward. “You think I don’tknow some of the things you’ve done? How about paying for our old nanny’snursing home? You did that out of your own pocket.”

“The state-run places are terrible. I couldn’t send herthere. You would have done the same thing.”

She sighs. “I didn’t keep in touch with her. You give adamn, Dante. You just don’t like to show it. You’re a crusader who’s hiddenhimself away as a playboy. I’ve always thought of it as you trying to reconcileDad’s world with the one in your heart.”

“That’s a bit dramatic. I think I’ve always been trying tolive up to Dad’s expectations and failing spectacularly.”

“Only because you never understood what Dad really wanted.He wanted you to find something you were passionate about. He wanted you to behappy. I don’t think you’re happy, Dante. I don’t think you were happy when youwere partying, and I don’t think you’re happy behind a desk.”

I’m not. And it’s awful that someone sees it. I haveeverything a person could want, and I’m not happy. But you were. You werehappy with Kaja in the woods. You were complete. “Maybe some people aren’tsmart enough to be happy.”

She huffs, a frustrated sound. “You are so slow sometimes.You’re happy when you’re fighting for Beck and Ci. When you’re talking politicsand how to help the masses, your eyes light up and you become this differentperson altogether. That’s your passion. Not numbers and spreadsheets. And I sawyou the other night with Kaja. When you thought no one was looking, I saw yourfangs and your eyes bleeding out. It was primal, something we try to hide. Butyou were happy, brother. And that made me happy.”

I try to hide it. “If the press caught me like that, wewould all be in trouble.”