Page 57 of Up In Flames

“Well, there are the obvious genetic differences,” Xy says. “My kids have darker hair, with gold or brown eyes. Sam’s hair is brighter, his eyes greener. Purer. And you’re a bit taller, too, which is unusual,” he adds, addressing Sampson again. “Our Kind almost always gets shorter with the generations. Plus, small cock.”

“Small cock?” I laugh. Sampson told me what Xy had said in the forest, but I honestly thought the other giant was joking, which is why I called him big dick/small brains earlier. But his tone says he’s serious.

He thinks Sampson has a small dick. I’m kind of awed by that kind of crazy.

But Sampson lets the dick measuring go. “You’re assuming I’m your Kind, Xy. Big assumption.”

“Not an assumption. Fact. Got your DNA. It’s being fully analyzed as we speak, but we know enough about you now to confirm you’re ours, though not mine. I’m not your daddy.”

“Should have led with that,” I say.

Sampson’s eyes narrow at this new information. His body tenses until he’s so tight, he looks like he risks turning into a diamond from the pressure. Not that I blame him.

“That’s not the most important part,” Xy continues. “Our leaders are mighty interested in you, boy.”

“Fuck your leaders,” Sampson growls, his curse jolting me straighter. He never swears. “You took my DNA? You invaded my privacy? You stole from me? Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.” Xy chuckles, but it’s easy to see his humor is an affectation. He’s watching Sampson carefully. Waiting. Weighing.

I think I might hate him.

“You have no right.”

“Our Kind has all the rights, boy. What you don’t know about us could fill an ocean, but you’ll learn. The Council will see to it, and once you understand, you won’t care about a little stolen blood from the hospital. You’re about to enter into a magnificent new world, Sammy-boy.”

Sampson’s arm tightens around me. He takes a lot of deep breaths until he seems to release the tension. I don’t know how he does it. I want to jump over the table and poke Xy’s eyes out. But Sampson is a lot more measured than I am.

“I’m not sure how magnificent it is, Xy,” he says slowly. “I’ve been reading up on giants. Nephilim.” He practically spits the last word like it’s dirty. “Not a great bunch of guys.”

If he’s been reading my books, it must have been when I was sleeping or when he was working, which is news to me. And disturbing. I thought I could help him acclimate to his genetics, but he’s been working on it on his own?

But I don’t have time to ponder the fact because Xy’s nodding. “Good. As I told you before, I’m glad you’re taking an interest, though you’re reading about us from the human perspective. No swine ever has positive things to say about the butcher.”

Sampson’s muscles tense back into boulders.

“Did he just call me a pig?” I whisper.

“He did,” Xy affirms. “Honestly, Sam, to engage yourself to the equivalent of a farm animal. It’s disgusting. But you’ll learn.”

“Fuck. You.”

Ooh. Another swear. I squeeze his thigh for moral support, but also because it’s insane how much I love him. I’ve never had anyone stick up for me before. I’ve never had anyone call me a swine before, but still.

“Though I can’t help but notice there’s no ring, so hope isn’t lost yet.” Xy adds, lasering his gaze into Sampson, still trying to goad my gentle giant into an attack.

Gentle… but my fiancé’s hands are fisted, and there’s a tomato hue to his neck. He’s suppressing his rage, but he’s feeling it, and as the moments drag on… he’s going to snap.

I’m no longer sure that he shouldn’t, not because Xy insulted me, but because he’s threatening… us.

A pregnant silence follows.

I’m the first to find my voice. “I write about a vampire that’s always causing trouble. His name is Hollis. He’s an asshole. You remind me of him,” I say in an offhand tone. “Are you trying to stir things up into violence because you’re bored, Xy, or are you just not very bright?”

Earthier-green eyes flicker to me before returning to spear Sampson. He doesn’t comment.

I don’t get it. The enmity beneath Xy’s casual pose crawls over my skin. He’s as drenched in shadows as any of my feral vampires. Darkness rises from his skin and clings to his tee-shirt, jeans, and work boots.

But he does look like he could be Sampson’s father. The slightest bit of gray has changed some of his red-brown hair into hay, and his face crags more than Sam’s does, but otherwise, they look like family. But maybe all giants look alike?