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Elizabeth rolls her eyes and scowls at him gently, but Marcus isn’t as charmed by Rill’s bad behavior.
“There’s always time for politeness,” he barks loudly. “Even in such company.” His eyes move around the table accusingly, settling on most of the faces with disapproval.
“I agree, Marcus,” I reply evenly as Oli begins to walk around the table, pouring wine. “How are you finding work on the council? You’ve been at it almost a year now?”
He shrugs nonchalantly, putting a hand over his glass when Oli moves to pour his wine. “Yes, and I think we’ve done a lot of good work. Despite the turmoil that some alphas and omegas of less moral fortitude have caused of late.”
“You talking about me?” Rill asks, taking an inelegant swig of wine as Elizabeth squeezes his hand, shushing him gently.
“I think he’s talking about all of us,” Wyatt mumbles, shifting in his seat uncomfortably.
But Marcus’s eyes are trained on Mother, his pale skin turning a brighter red with each passing second.
Surprisingly, rather than reacting in confusion, she smirks and tilts her head mockingly. She went all out tonight—dressed in an elaborately gold-embroidered purple silk dress and flashy gold and amethyst jewelry, her eyes dark and smoky and her lips bright red.
“I see you’re still a self-righteous prig, Marcus,” she laughs in a sing-song voice before taking a long sip of her wine and muttering, “I guess some things never change.”
My mouth falls open in shock. “Mother…”
“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” Marcus sneers, leaning over the table menacingly. “What with the minor issue of your insanity? I can’t imagine the Cypress omega wants to share a meal with someone that thinks so little of her that she’d organize her release.”
Elizabeth gasps, and Mother sets her glass down calmly. “Need I remind you that you’re a guest in my home? And that my son’s the Administrator?” She laughs, a light, careless tinkle. “I could probably have you released if I set my mind to it … or maybe something else altogether.”
“Are you threatening to murder me like you did your mate?” Marcus hisses, his face bright purple now.
You can hear a pin drop in the ensuing silence as Mother shrugs insolently and sips her wine again.
“Fuck,” I breathe out, dropping my head in my hands with a resigned sigh as Rill’s scratchy laugh rings out through the shocked silence.
I look up to see Elizabeth scolding him with a close-mouthed glare.
“Sorry, love,” he laughs, “but this just got a lot more entertaining.”
“Need I remind you that I made your son Administrator?” Marcus spits out, ignoring Rill. “You think because you have all the money and power, it changes anything? All that matters is the Order, Solly. You know that more than anyone else.”
Solly? No one calls her that.
But Mother doesn’t react to the nickname. Instead, she rolls her eyes childishly and crosses her arms over her chest, leaning back in her chair.
I had Rill pegged as the one who’d destroy this dinner. Who would have thought it would be my mother and Marcus Catmint? I don’t think I’ve ever seen them in the same room, but apparently, they hate each other.
Wyatt growls as his eyes meet mine gravely. “Maybe this was a bad idea,” he says in a low voice. “Probably best that I leave.”
“Of course. Leaving is what you do best,” I mutter, unable to temper a surge of annoyance even though I know he’s right. This evening is a wash—we can’t even exchange pleasantries without it devolving into cryptic personal insults.
Before Wyatt can respond to my sulky jab, the doors to the dining room swing open. The gust of air brings in the bland scent of the betas, the spicy scent of food, and … something else entirely.
Warmth. Vanilla. Home.
My body hardens as everything else disappears.
The arguments.
The drama.
Against my will, my eyes dart up to watch two gray-clad betas stream into the room, each holding a steaming silver tray.
Cleo’s leading the way, followed by Beth.
