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Unlocked a new turn on spot, have we, Maia?
Seb raises an eyebrow, and Christopher sighs.
“I love how you’ll talk to our pretty mate, but you refuse to speak to your brother,” Christopher whines, and my eyes widen as I see him adopt a playful energy. “Maia, don’t you think he should talk with me?”
I take a leaf out of Seb’s book and stay silent.
Christopher sighs, and I watch as his face changes. He looks frustrated and as if he’s adopted a brand new personality. I eye Seb, and he’s contemplative.
They’re identical in their physical features—down to the freckle on their left hand—but right now, they’re so different it’s startling.
“What do you need for the night?” Christopher asks, and even his tone has changed. There’s no niceness, nothing sweet or playful. He sounds a good decade older, and somehow… it makes me kind of tingly.
I clench my teeth together before sighing. “My brain won’t let me argue with you.”
“Because your brain thinks arguing with me won’t get you anywhere except dead. Humans are predictable in their self-preservation,” Christopher replies with a shrug.
“And yet, we’re mates, so shouldn’t I know that you won’t kill me?”
“Can’t claim that title until you believe it, and you don’t believe it since your brain thinks I’ll kill you,” Christopher replies, looking around the room with the same piercing intensity that Seb was a few moments ago. “Now, what do you need so that you can both get through the night?”
“Do you understand how inconvenient this is for me?”
“Do you understand how inconvenient you are for me?” Christopher says.
I don’t know why it hurts me to hear that. The pang of pain that hits me is undeniable, and I feel tears start to prick my eyes. “I get that you don’t know me?—”
“I don’t need to know you,” he says dismissively, going as far to wave his hand as if he can just swat me away like the fly he so badly thinks I am.
“Topher,” Seb barks, giving his elder brother a warning look. He growls under his breath, and his eyes go bright green. I’m intrigued at the way their eyes constantly change colour. Is it based on their mood?
How close are they to shifting into their werewolf form?
“What?” Christopher protests. Seb lets out a very feral sound—a growl, maybe, but it sounds so primal and dangerous that goosebumps appear across my skin. “Fine, I’m leaving.”
He scoffs, shakes his head, and storms away before I can even come to terms with what he said.
“Sit down, little love,” Seb murmurs, escorting me over to one of the stools. I maintain a tight hold on Phoebe and sit down. He rests his hand on my lower back, leaning over my shoulder to watch Phoebe sleep. It’s serene.
The front door opens, and I’m surprised that Ben and Alexander got here so quickly. They had to go to their home and drive here—how fast did they go? Were they safe?
Heavy footsteps come bounding into the room, and I’m not entirely sure who is in front of me. I think it’s Ben based on the excitement, but it could be Alexander or Christopher tricking me.
“Hi! Your house is a lot more boring than I thought it would be,” he says.
Well, that made the guessing game that much easier. Nobody else would insult me in a way they think is complimentary like he would.
“Hi, Ben.”
He grins, dropping down onto the stool opposite me. “Did you miss me? I went as fast as I could so that we wouldn’t be too far behind, but I definitely wasn’t fast enough.”
“Where’s Alexander?” I ask, not having heard him enter the house.
“Oh, he’s driving over,” Ben says flippantly. “And you should call him Alex. He much prefers it.”
“He does?” I scrunch my nose up.
“You call me Ben. What difference is it?”
