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“Why?” I ask, not really paying attention.
“I wanted to be an artist. I loved to draw. Whenever I was supposed to be studying, I was doodling. So, he would punish me.”
I jerk my gaze to his. “He what?” Gray’s dad has just made my enemy list. How dare he hurt baby Gray!
“He punished me. I’m meant to rule empires, not doodle. Don’t worry, Hazel isn’t allowed to create her finger paintings, either, but she’s stronger than I am, and she does it, anyway.” There’s a flatness in his eyes when he says that, like he doesn’t see himself as strong or artistic.
Which is crap! I push away the paper and pen and turn in my seat, reaching out and gripping one of his huge hands. His eyes stop bouncing around the room and focus on me.
“You create the gardens. Those magnificent, amazing works of art.” I hold up my hand to stop his protests. “Your father is a moron. Art is the heart of society, and you are more talented and envied and celebrated than you know. But don’t worry, Gray, I’ll make sure you see it the way I do.”
“Yes,I do create them, but they’re just gardens. They aren’t like Hazel’s paintings. My father and I had a full-blown fight, and he threatened to disown me when I came out as the designer. I laughed at the time. I said with all the bravado of Falcon and Silas that I’m part of the Treyfield pack now. My wealth is nothing compared to Silas’. But I still can’t pick up a pen and just draw without hearing his words in my head.”
“Your dad sounds like a dick,” I grumble.
He laughs and agrees.
I left it, but the memory of it lingers. I know what it’s like to have a dad who’s a dick. Beneath the easy-going countenance, Gray is deep and sensitive. He is fierce and emotional. Perhaps even more so than Silas, but when he loves, he loves with all of him. I can see how much he loves Dylan, Silas, and Falcon. He can’t hide it. It’s transparent in everything he does.
Silas had paused in the kitchen two days earlier and wrinkled his nose at the fish.
“You don’t like fish?”
“No. I hate the taste.”
“Me, too.”
He glances at me over his shoulder. Silas is beautiful when he isn’t smiling, but when he smiles, he is gorgeous. He tempts me in a way the others don’t. He tempts me to try all the new things. To push boundaries. To be a little daring. He’s this suave, polished man in a suit with this darker side, and when he invites you to join, he does it with that smile.
How can a girl say no?
That conversation led to us spending the day in the kitchen cooking and tasting food. There’s something undeniably sexy about a man barefoot in the kitchen in sweats and a tank top. But, more than that, he’s attentive, charming, and funny. It was easy to open up about my life and tell him about the various skills I've learned over the years. He listens and makes me feel heard.
Falcon I have learned little about, his past is a vault, but I watch the way he makes drinks and prepares snacks. He handles the phone calls from irate family members. But Falcon takes care of his pack, his employees, and anyone under his protection, anticipating their needs and never looking for thanks. He’s the one who organises security for us when we go downstairs. He urges us to bed and does a lap of the penthouse, turning off lights and making sure it’s safe. Falcon is the one who, when he sees we’re getting stressed., he gets on his knees and rubs his pack’s feet or brings them their favourite food or holds them.
The powerful head of Treyfield has one duty in his heart, and that is taking care of his pack. It's endearing. It’s more than that. It’s a sight that stops me dead with twin blasts of awe and longing. Yearning.
Dylan has transformed. The longer he is around the pack, the more open he becomes. His laugh is infectious, his smile is heartbreaking. But the peace in him, the happiness…it’s transformative. I wouldn’t recognise him now. He’s totally different, but it suits him.
And he’s free with his affection, including me in it. He makes me feel special; he makes me feel like more. He is my best friend, and his happiness is my happiness.
Spending time with them is slowly drowning me in feelings I know will destroy me, but like an addict, I’m helpless to stop.
I see them now, how they fit together. Like pieces of a jigsaw. This pack is a perfect fit.
They line up in suits as I come out of my room. I’m dressed in a gown of deep purple. It clings like a second skin and looks like water. The only reason I walked out dressed like this was because of Silas’ whispered complement earlier today when he chose the dress. I’ve got on black lace gloves that rise to just past my elbows, and Falcon had one of the staff come up and help with my hair and makeup.
I don’t look like myself.
The night is incredible and like a fairy tale. They are attentive, and we laugh and live in this bubble. Dinner is divine, even if it is spoonfuls of food covered in glitter. I clap politely when the artist stands up and bows. She leans into the microphone again and croons another song. Dylan puts a hand on my thigh and leans in to press his lips against my ear.
“Do you want to see something?”
I nod.
He takes my hand and pulls me through the tables. I spot my sister sitting with a pack, but her glare momentarily arrests me. There is so much hate and venom in it.
Dylan pulls me down a hallway and into a door I’ve never passed through before, and I forget all about her. It’s a giant cinema.
