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“No. No problems. I just didn’t know.” And now that I do, it will be all that much harder to ignore the shadows calling out to me.
She lets out a snarky laugh. “Don’t you watch TV or read those gossip blogs?”
“No.” My answer must placate her because she only grunts and turns back to the window, but I don’t miss the small smile her driver—Henry—throws my way into the rearview mirror. “How late am I required to stay?” I ask her.
“Why? Have a real girlfriend to tend to at home?” Her voice is mocking, and there is no way I am telling her that my girlfriend is my five-year-old daughter who always wishes for her dad to put her to sleep. To read her a bedtime story, and now that I am off work earlier than normal, I’d love to do just that. But when I don’t answer, she turns back to me once again.
Yet this time, there is something else in her narrowed eyes. Something close to jealousy. I think. But maybe I am too tired and confused from the past few days to decipher it correctly.
“You do, don’t you?” Her eyes narrow down a bit more, and I’m about to tell her no when she decides to answer her own questions without my input. “Might as well text her to not wait up. We will be a while.” And with that, she turns back to her window, her posture a bit stiffer than before.
Great.
Sorry, Angel, no story time tonight yet again.And me feeling like the shitty parent I am once more.
The rest of the drive passes in silence, with only the outside noises of our busy city filtering through until we pull up to a place I would never consider Kira’s family to live in. In fact, it is so close to my own street I could pass a few blocks and slip inside the safety of my own net.
It looks to be some sort of an apartment above a dance studio calledLet Your Demon Out. We are barely out of the car before the front door flies open, and one of the scariest guys I have ever seen steps—no, storms—out of it. He is not scary in the sense of clothing he wears or someone built large.
No, this is the dangerous kind of scary. The one that hosts too many demons under his skin, and he is not afraid of them. He uses them. The guy comes straight at us, charges like the predator he is, and some weird sense of protectiveness, once again, has me stepping in front of Kira, shielding her from his random fury. And that there has him stopping in his tracks completely as his head tilts to a side, eyeing me with blood-chilling curiosity.
“Geez, I didn’t know you were that eager to meet my brother,” I hear Kira mock me from behind.
“That’s your brother.” I am fully aware that pointing fingers at other people is a show of poor manners, but she’s got me a littlespeechless right now. However, what did I expect? A computer nerd, soft belly, and four kids?
Yeah, no, this guy fits the mold of Kira’s brother to a T. Cold, crazy, and a bit scary. Yep, I see it. They might not be blood-related, and he hasn’t say a single word to me, yet I see it.
Kira steps out from behind me walking up to that scary brother of hers. “Hey, Jules. Meet my new boyfriend, Vassar.” She ushers to me as if she is presenting an art piece at an auction.
“You’ll do,” is what her brother, Jules says.
What the fuck does that mean? I’ll do for what?
A bloody sacrifice?
But I don’t get an explanation as he turns on his heels and walks into the building, with Kira and I following behind. Immediately as we step inside, there is a door on the right that leads to the dance studio, and up ahead is a staircase leading to what I assume is their apartment, except there are plenty of noises coming from there and delicious scents penetrating my nose.
I don’t think there are any doors.
Does this whole building belong to her family?
Sure enough, as we step off the industrial-looking staircase, it opens up to a living/dining room combo and a small kitchen in the back. The walls are all exposed red brick but are almost fully covered either in some type of ballet-related art or motorcycle one. There is a comfy-looking gray couch off to the side and plenty of green plants standing around. Further down, there is a hallway that probably leads to a few bedrooms.
This place might be in my neighborhood, but it is miles apart from it. And it is also miles apart from what I imagine Kira to live in. Although she doesn’t live here, her family does, and all of them are staring at us right this second.
All four sets of eyes, apart from her brother’s, whose are no longer ignited with darkness, now they almost seem bored. There are two small women standing in the kitchen and a fairly large, imposing man in a black, perfectly fitted suit with dark hair and steel gray eyes, sitting at the counter while they cook.
“OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod,” the dark-haired girl squeaks out. “Kira Clark is in my home. Kira freaking Clark and fuck me…is that Vassar Levidis?”
I am not sure whose eyes are larger right now, mine or this girl’s?
First of all, isn’t this supposed to be Kira’s family? Then how come these people are freaking out about her being here? And second of all, they know who I am? No one in the regular non-food-related population knows who I am. Everyone just assumes Kira cooks everything by herself. As if that would ever be possible.
“Princess, how about you tone it down a bit?” Jules looks over to the tiny, graceful girl who is freaking out, his eyes no longer dark but full of love, adoration, and so much emotion it makes me uncomfortable. But in a good way.
I haven’t seen this much love since my parents. I certainly never had it with my ex.
“You tone it down,” she retorts back to him. “And finally introduce me to your sister, Julius.” Julius rolled his eyes, but with a smile on his face, he takes her hand and leads her towards us.
