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Of course that was all.
Her whole body felt like it was on fire. And she wanted nothing more than to close the distance between them. To taste him again. She wanted it so much she could cry, and it made a mockery of everything she’d ever thought about herself.
That she was controlled.
That she was smarter than her mother.
Better than her mother.
No. She just hadn’t met her weakness yet.
But here he was, dressed in a black suit.
Her sin nature incarnate.
She wiggled out of his hold because she needed sanity. She needed to breathe.
And just then, his mother and father walked in.
“I’m glad you’re here, Morgan,” his mother said, walking across the room to greet her with an air kiss to both cheeks.
Morgan felt scalded. Shamed.
“Of course,” she said.
“Let us go and...honor him.”
She looked up and her eyes met Constantine’s, and the fire she saw there was black as night, and she feared if she looked at him for too long, it would burn her alive.
It was the graveside he could not stand.
This, he supposed, was the cost of having a family burial plot on the estate.
You had to bear witness to your brother being buried where you once played as children.
There was a memorial to Athena, but it was different. They had not done this. Had not done graveside sadness and finality.
With her it was almost as if she could still be out there, even though he knew that was not the case.
There was no chance at believing in such things for Alex, though.
It was a heaviness that sat on his chest like a stone. And only Morgan, with her red hair stark against the gray clouds and the black coat she was wearing, provided any brightness.
“I thought I taught you better, boy.”
His grandfather’s voice sounded in his head—always in Greek.
I thought so too,Pappoús. But perhaps I am as I always was.
Weak.
Weak in his grief. Weak for her.
He was a man who prized control above all else. But what was the point of it? He could not control this. He had not. He had not saved Alex, any more than he had saved Athena.
He had all this power, all this money. He had not kept his family from tragedy, not again. Everything his grandfather had made him into in the aftermath of the kidnapping, of Athena’s loss...
It had changed everything. They had been happy children. They’d had each other. He had loved his siblings. Had felt protective of them. Athena might have been his twin, but she’d been a few moments younger, and he’d felt like...
