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Dorian took me to a cemetery.
Rows and rows of tombstones filled my vision, the dark prince’s path an intentional one. He traveled the paths with the ease of one who’d been here before. Maybe many times.
We eventually stopped.
A large memorial towered ahead, several of them. Dorian got out, and I did too, and together we headed over toward some of the biggest. I saw familiar names on pretty much all of them.
Prinze.
This was obviously his family’s plot, and he took my naked hand in the chilly air, guiding me around snow-covered tombstones and memories. I had no idea what we were doing until, well, I did.
Charlie Gregory Lindquist.
“This is Charlie,” Dorian said, his breath husky and puffing around him. The tip of his nose flushed, his lips red and doing the same. His fingers danced with mine. “This is my big brother.”
The breath stopped in my chest, our fingers lacing when he guided me over. He placed me in front of himself, physically presenting me to the memorial.
“Charlie, this is Sloane,” he said, not looking at me. He hadn’t once since we’d gotten here. He squeezed my shoulders. “She hasn’t lost her brother, but she probably knows a little bit what this feels like so…” He didn’t have to say what, glancing down at me. He smiled a little. “This is probably weird. Morbid?” His head shook. “Probably dumb I took you here.”
It wasn’t dumb. Not at all. I looked at the memorial. “Hi, Charlie.”
Dorian chuckled, his hand squeezing his eyes before he put his arms around my head, their weight on my chest, the muscled heat cocooning me. He hugged me close. “I’ve been wanting you guys to meet.”
I was glad he did, my hands rubbing his arms. “I don’t like that I know what this feels like.” Like I was being carved from the inside out with a dull spoon. I closed my eyes. “I hate that I know what this feels like.”
Dorian’s mouth touched my head, his breath steady, close. It probably took a lot for him to take me here, and it definitely wasn’t the same as what he’d gone through.
It probably felt close.
I hadn’t been the only one to beg my brother to come home. Ramses and Brielle had called him too, and though he’d answered them, his words had been what he’d emphasized before he left. The situation wasn’t working for him. He needed time, and he couldn’t do that here. He told them to tell me he was fine and I shouldn’t worry. I’d see him at school, and I needed to worry about myself.
But how couldn’t I worry about him?
I didn’t know how long we stayed at Charlie’s memorial. Could have been minutes. Maybe even hours. I just knew eventually it got so cold I couldn’t feel Dorian’s arms around me anymore, and that was when he said we should go back. We got in the car to find missed texts from both Ramses and Brielle, Ares too. No one else knew we were gone since it was so late, so yeah, there was that. We told them all we were on our way back, but we didn’t leave the cemetery right away. I sat in the heated car with Dorian’s arm around me.
“I wanted to tell you Bru was talking to him,” I said out of nowhere, playing with his fingers. My lips pursed tight. “I think I was ashamed. Your grandfather was so good to us and a friend to him.” I swallowed. “A friend to me.”
I looked up to already find him staring down at me. He glanced away. “I get that.”
“It feels like a betrayal to think that. Say that,” I said. “Bru doesn’t think your grandfather’s that man he used to be. He trusts him.”
And I did too.
Dorian’s hand covered the back of my neck, squeezing. “He has only been good to you and the kid, and I do get that.” He wet his lips. “He’s been there for you.”
His voice sounded haunted saying that, pained. I didn’t want to hurt him by talking about this, but it was the truth.
“He was someone you could rely on,” he said, his fingers brushing my arm. “There is no betrayal, and honestly, I’m thinking the only thing I know about my grandfather these days are facts of the past and other things I’m still not ready to talk about.”
He’d mentioned that there was something, but he hadn’t said it had anything to do with his grandpa.
I squeezed his hand, and in response, he tipped my chin.
“You would support me,” he said, smirking. His thumb touched my lip. “You are your dad’s daughter.”
This didn’t feel like a bad thing. Ramses was such a good guy. He was great.
The dark prince guided me onto his lap, my knees touching his leather seats. He opened my coat, and I gasped when he palmed my breast.
