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“By descendants you mean...”
“My great-great-grandson and his wife.”
“Naturally.”
Lucien led me on. “This way to the kitchen.” Moving ahead, he held open the door and waved me through. “After you.”
“Such a gentleman for a vampire. Shouldn’t you be feasting on my sweet life nectar right about now?”
He winked. “I learned to control my bloodlust decades ago. It was also decades ago that I learned the way a gentleman is supposed to treat a lady. There have been many advancements in the last century, but not in manners.”
Laughing, I said, “Can’t argue with that.”
It was weird how comfortable I was starting to feel around them.
Except for paranoid Wilder.
And growling Cato.
And strangely flirty and enigmatic Rafael.
Okay, so it was just weird.
The two of us entered the same hall through another door and moved into the kitchen. Rafael stood with his back to us. A young guy sat at the table, scarfing down a bowl of oatmeal and watching the small television parked on the kitchen counter.
My heart thumped an extra out-of-sync beat.
He was beautiful. The heavens literally opened up, and set this sable-haired, pine green–eyed masterpiece among us to see how quickly we’d tear ourselves apart trying to have him. A broad, pointed nose hung over his wide, soft lips.
“Holy hell. Cato, is that you?”
The guy looked at me, saying and doing nothing. I came closer, drawn like a moth to flame. He was so damn gorgeous. How could anyone so handsome be dangerous? He wouldn’t—
Cato’s face crumpled. His lips curled in a snarl, growl ripping out of his throat. He jumped up, both feet planted on the stool, and crouched like he was ready to leap over the table and bring me down like a pack of wolves. I tripped over my feet running back to Lucien.
My well-mannered friend laughed his ass off. “It’s okay, Lady Luna. He won’t hurt you.”
“Really?” My voice came out a high-pitched squeak. “Then why does he growl and snap at me all the time!”
“You get too close,” Lucien breezed. “Cato’s had a rough history of nurses, doctors, and orderlies grabbing and holding him down. Injecting him with things and restraining him when he fought back. He doesn’t take kindly to anyone getting too close to him or Rafael.”
As if to underscore his response, Cato settled and went back to his oatmeal and television show like nothing happened.
“All right, so he just wants people to keep their distance. I can understand that. But what’s with the muzzle? If he chills out when people respect his space, it’s harsh and demeaning making him wear that thing.”
Cato bobbed his head—whether it was at what I said or what the television said, I had no idea.
“He has to wear it on campus when he’s out of the Gallery.”
“Why?”
Wilder blew inside, heading for the fridge. “Because he bites.”
“Whether you respect his space or not,” Lucien continued. “He’s liable to tear a chunk out of you for looking at him wrong.” He caught my look and shrugged. “I said he had a hard time in those psychiatric hospitals. I didn’t say he wasn’t there for a good reason.”
“So you lied when you said he wouldn’t hurt me.”
“I didn’t lie. Cato likes you. He won’t do anything to hurt you.”
I eyed him, my stomach fluttering traitorously at how stinking handsome he was. “How do you know?”
“He’s had many opportunities to do that, and he hasn’t taken them. That’s a good sign. Means you’re most likely safe.”
“Uh, most likely?”
“I cannot say enough that he’s a frequent mental hospital patient. If his behavior was that easy to predict, they wouldn’t have locked him up.”
“Okay,” I said, pushing down unease. “Let’s just stop talking about him like he’s not in the room. It’s not nice.”
Cato flicked to me, slipping under my defense and dragging me into lily pad–covered pools. I read so many things within his depths, but madness wasn’t one of them. I got the sense he wanted...
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Can I sit with you?”
Once again, no move or response. Slowly, I pulled out a stool and sat down. Cato let me without growl or curled lip.
Maybe he does like me.
“Hey, Rafael,” I called.
Wilder spoke up. “He can’t hear you. His plugs are in.”
“Plugs?”
“Rafael was caught in an explosion when he was young,” Lucien explained. “Affected his hearing and gave him a hypersensitivity to certain sounds and frequencies. A hearing aid and carefully curated playlist outside, and earplugs inside. It helps give him peace.”
“Oh.”
Wilder tapped Rafael’s shoulder. The guy turned and his expression lit up when he saw me. I blushed like a silly little girl.
“Cloud Girl.” Pulling out his earplugs, Rafael replaced them with earbuds. He moved aside and I saw what he was doing—counting out pills. He placed the handful beside his brother with a glass of water and slid up next to me.
