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“Mhhmmm…”
“Nice designs.” She jerks her head forward as if making a point.
“Yes, Mother, it’s similar.”
She laughs, snatching the glass of red off me. Her eyes close as she buries her nose in the bowl and inhales. Her head tips back as she takes a mouthful, wiping the edge of her lip.
“I’ve never told you this, but when I was young, something happened to me, too.”
My heart drops. She must know my question because her head shakes from side to side.
“I don’t want to talk about it much today, but I just want you to know that you’re not alone.” She rests her hand on mine. “Okay?”
I squeeze her hand as a silent agreement. I want to, though. I want to ask her how, what, and fuckingwho.But I don’t, becauseI know how it feels to have someone force words out of your mouth.
She swallows more wine, remaining fixed on the ocean. Even at this age—not that she’s old, she’s beautiful. She has grown into an elegant kind of beauty that reminds me of Nanna Scarlet, more than her own mother.
The pain in her words cut deep. “I’m just really sorry, baby. Your father and I, we—” She shakes her head. “I don’t want to make this about me and him, because it’s not.” She turns to me, and I reach up to wipe her tears. “I just need you to know that I am always here. We are always here, and it doesn’t matter what you do, your father and I will always love both you and your brother.”
I roll my lips behind my teeth. “What about Deacon?”
“We’ll take that day by day. He’s your father’s son, so he’s mine. I’ll be whatever he needs me to be.”
My lips stain red when I sip on my wine. “He’s not a bad person. He’s a pain in my ass and really fucking annoying, but he’s not a bad person. He tried, you know, to get me out of there. One of the nights that I tried to take my life, I fell from the rooftop of one of the buildings.” Another gulp. “He caught me.”
She pats my hand just as we both hear footsteps from the side.
Priest and War stare back at me and Mom. “Ready?”
I nod as Mom takes my hand with hers. We walk slightly behind the boys, back up the path that leads to the yard as “I Need You” by Jelly Roll plays from the surround system. I move in slow motion as I feel everyone’s eyes on us. Trust my family to make an event out of murder.
War turns to the side where the cube is set up, baring his teeth with untamed rage, and my eyes swing up to the large alfresco patio that sweeps out onto the vast size of the yard to seeseven hand-carved, satin black thrones. That isn’t what catches my eye first. It’s the men sitting on them.
From the left is Brantley, Nate, Dad—I hold my breath when my eyes find Archer Thorn, but he’s already looking right at me.Holy shit.He doesn’t look anything like his father. With wide-set shoulders that stretch out his suit shirt, and a body built like a beast. His brown skin is flawless, except for the faded scar that cuts across his neck in a way that I know someone had slit his throat.
And succeeded. That’s a death cut, not a battle scar.
He eyes me carefully as I examine him with unease. A hard, angular jaw, ebony hair that’s shaved on the sides in a fade cut, keeping it a little longer on the top. He embodies carnal masculinity as he follows me with dark eyes.
Jesus. I get it now. If he represents Thornhill, that would be a hardnofrom me, and I’ve been surrounded by dangerous men all my life. Very often do I recognize one outside of our own fold.
I break eye contact and settle on the man beside him. He has similar dark hair, only styled differently. He’s not quite as big as Archer, but he’s lean and strong. Even from here, I can see the edges of his classical features. Unlike Archer, he has tattoos that cover every inch of skin that peeps out of his obsidian suit. His eyes are on someone to the left, and I follow what he’s looking at.
I bite back a laugh when I see he’s been staring at a certain raven-haired vixen talking with Luna, before going back to studying him from a distance. I almost lose my footing when I find him now staring right at me.
His eyelashes are so thick, it almost looks as though he’s wearing liner, but his eyes, even from here, are so blue they almost seem white. Jesus. He’s… creepy. I’m guessing he’s Archer Thorn’s notorious right-hand, also known as Belial.
I quickly shift to the man beside Belial.
Danny Dale. The Gentlemen. Our enemy in the flesh. He’s dressed in a dapper gray suit that’s paired with a vest, as he lights the end of the Cuban cigar that hangs from his beard-covered lips. The tattoos on his hands and face only add to his rugged looks, and as if feeling my gaze, his eyes land on me, before further bouncing over Mom and Priest. They settle on Vaden.
Danny Dale and our dads are the first generation to even be able to settle with a treaty instead of a war. Danny’s great-grandfather and Vaden’s were legendary foes back in their day. Actually, they all equally hated each other. From what Dad has said, their reasoning for peace was simple, since they all had children around the same time. They collectively decided no blood was worth spilling when it could stain your kids. The treaty was then born.
Beside Danny is—I roll my eyes, skipping him. Moses Dale, aka Danny’s firstborn. I’ve never met him personally, but I’ve heard whispers about him over time.
We stop near the patio and Mom places a kiss on my head, nodding at War and my brother.
War’s hand covers mine, the fingers of his other curling beneath my chin, lifting my head up to his. “We’ll be down here. They’ll be up there, spectating. This won’t be easy to watch, baby. You sure you don’t want to go inside?”
