Page 83 of Fated to Them

“Why?” I ask, just as Eli steps out.

“He isn’t as polite,” Eli chuckles, overhearing us.

“I don’t like humans,” Cyrus says simply as we walk inside, shutting the door.

“You say that, but yet you appear to like me.”

“That’s different. You’re mine, my little human,” Cyrus says, like him hating humans and being mates with one is simple because I am his.

The office consists of one huge desk that is clearly used by both of them, a lounge, and a coffee table; it looks more like a home office than a business, one with bookshelves and lamps.

Eli walks over to his desk, turning on his laptop. He busies himself doing work while I spin around in the office chair, bored out of my mind. Cyrus sits reading a book from the bookshelf.

“Will you stop spinning? You are making me dizzy watching you,” Eli mutters.

“Well, can you give me something to do? I thought the whole reasoning I was here was to work?”

Eli says nothing, but I see his shoulders bunch up.

“You don’t want me here to work, do you?” I ask.

Cyrus looks over the top of his book at him before looking back down.

“No. Honestly, we have enough employees. You just sit there and look pretty,” Eli grumbles while I glare at him.

“Then why did we have to come back here? Cyrus said you barely even come in, so why couldn’t we have stayed back home?”

Eli growls, but I know I am onto something. They have other motives to bring me here that aren’t work-related.

“Is this because of Sam?” I ask him, and I see Eli glare at me over the top of his laptop.

“Part of the reason,” he says, looking back down.

“So, what I am supposed to do is just follow you around and do nothing? Or be some weird version of a housewife?”

“Well, you know what they say…” he mutters.

“No, what do they say?” I bite back, folding my arms across my chest, annoyed.

“That women have small feet so they can fit in all corners of a kitchen,” Eli says.

“That is the most sexist shit I have ever heard,” I tell him, reaching over and chucking a stapler at him.

It hits him in the head before falling on his laptop. He glares, his teeth pulling back over his top lip as his canines protrude. Even while looking scary and angry, I can’t help but chuckle when I realize he has a staple stuck in his head.

He pulls it out and goes to get up, his knuckles turning white as he grips his desk.

“You deserved it,” Cyrus says to him, looking over his book.

“Personally, I would have thrown the letter opener. Would have hurt more if it stuck,” Cyrus tells me.

Eli sits down and reaches over, grabbing the things closest to me and dumping them in the top drawer.

“So, are you going to tell me why I am here then?”

“You don’t need to know just yet.”

“And why is that?”