When they parked in the building’s underground lot, the driver came around to let them out, holding the door open and his head anywhere but toward them. Some clients took exception to being stared at, and Viraj understood it at thatmoment. Having someone interject themselves into their trio, even for but a glance, made him anxious.
As Viraj made his way toward the elevator, he slid his jacket over his arm to drape down the front of his chest, the lay of the fabric obfuscating hiscondition. Humans had relatively little gall to ask questions, but with the political climate being what it was, and that his bump in no way didn’t resemble a small pregnancy, he decided it wasn’t worth the risk of attracting attention.
Twenty-something floors went by, dinging at each one as they passed it, the old cables moving almost intentionally slow. Knowing Sile, it was to give advanced warning to the staff for escalations and aid. Either that, or a place to grow one’s anxiety.
Teige and Gatlin flanked Viraj like two bodyguards, Teige with his height and Gatlin with his breadth. They centered him, chins up and jaws squared, like they hadn’t been taking turns sucking one another off not an hour and a half ago.
But that made it a little better, especially when Viraj had spent over a hundred years avoiding his father, communicating via a hastily written letter every few years, as if he was obligated to provide some update as to his ranking, accomplishments, and whatnot to make sure the old fuck had a reason to preen to the other family heads.
When the doors opened, they exited, his mates still flanking him at an angle, Teige reaching out as they traversed the hall to find the right room.
As they approached the hall, a camera turned to face them a moment before the desired door clicked, the lock disengaging, which meant Sile was watching and waiting. Teige opened it with no hesitation.
With a clear view through the office, they stepped in, the door clicking behind them as it locked.
Viraj took a deep breath and clutched his jacket tighter, but Gatlin had other plans, leaning in to offer him a soft kiss, taking his jacket with a gentle gesture. “Be proud of what you are, Vivi. We did this together.”
Teige leaned over to peck his temple and rested a hand on his belly, rubbing in a slow circle. “I’m proud of you. And look at all you’ve accomplished when you were a Dette the whole time. Your existence and success prove Dettes are equal.”
Thathelped. Viraj lifted his chin and strode forward, still wishing he had his jacket back.
“Viraj!” Sile’s voice called from the other side of the office toward an open set of double doors leading into his private space, separate from his apartment on the upper floors.
“Sile.” Viraj called back in acknowledgment as he approached and stood in the doorway to assess.
His father sat in a chair turned slightly toward the door, legs crossed and chin held high. He looked different than last Viraj saw all those years ago, but the same in some ways.
His temples had grayed, but he was still remarkably attractive, angular and sturdy. His dark hair had been cut short on the sides, the top slicked back, and in place of the lavish traditional clothing, he wore a suit, crisp, smooth wool with cuff links bearing rubies of such stunning clarity that his dragon salivated at a glance.
Viraj stiffened. “Father.”
Eyes so similar to Ryan’s, golden and hawkish, focused in on Viraj, flicking up and down his frame in assessment. “Viraj. It has been many years.”
Viraj nodded, giving his father a short bow of respect that cramped his belly in an effort to do so. And from that gesture, he gave no reaction, his gaze cold and calculative. “How.”
Sile flinched and glanced toward them, eyes pleading with unspoken words.Don’t you fucking dare say it.
Viraj had no plan to do so. His father had no sense of humor.
“I am in all appearances a Drake. I showed concerning medical symptoms and an attraction to Drakes. Out of concern for my health, my mates sent me to a healer who was able to treat me and expose what I was.” Vritra did not usually approve of stag unions, but when it came to the upper families, they tolerated the proclivities, as stags didn’t deprive them of more Dettes for their harems.
The calculating gaze softened only slightly as Viraj’s father gestured toward Sile.
“I do have Gaspard Dior’s report right here that outlines it—” Sile flinched as Ashwin snapped his fingers and one of the Hijada at his side snatched the paper before handing it to Ashwin reverently.
He stared at the paper, thick brow furrowed as he picked apart Viraj’s anatomy and health line by line and then scoffed. “My physicians were inept at best. You were a Dette.”
Viraj nodded once, unsure of what else to say.
“Sile informs me that I cannot take back the dowry for Rama or demand payment from one of your mates.” His upper lip curled, his thin mustache contorting around a scar it covered. One he’d had from a war long before Viraj or even his omega parent had been born.
“That is correct.” Sile didn’t elaborate.
Ashwin sneered, as if the news were a foul odor. “And it comes to my attention that Rama’s price was flubbed, at any rate. His chosen Drake traded him off like a goat.”
Gatlin reached for Viraj’s hand and squeezed it.
“He did. And was immediately returned to me for evaluation and approval of the den that sought his affections. My mates approved of the match as well. They made right the financial mishap and since, at the time, the dowry was considered illegalin this part of the world, we partitioned off a share to Ryan and released him on his own recognizance.” Viraj held his head high.
