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“So my son, how was your first term? Have you found any females worth courting yet? As heir to the estate you need a beautiful mate by your side.” I don’t respond right away, shoving away the rage that flares in my gut. No matter how many times I’ve explained to her the fact that I didn’t spend years focusing on my education so I could be accepted on a scholarship into the Academy, just for me to find a rich mate, she won’t drop the idea. In her mind what else would I be wasting four years of my life for, if not to find some rich supernatural to leech off for the rest of my life. I don’t bother to remind her that we only still have the estate because my father pays for it, and he only does so because when I come of age it will be mine. He’s not rich, but he is comfortable. Years ago he offered to pay for my fees, and I explained that I wanted to prove to myself that I could get in on my own. I didn’t need anyone but myself, or no-one else's money. No pressure. It wasmyachievement and no-one can take that from me. And I did it, I got in on a scholarship.
My father got tired of my mothers crap years ago, refusing to send her money. Instead he makes sure the house is stocked with food and leaves the rest up to her and us. My eyes slide back to the table for a second and I smile to myself. He really tries his best, despite not being in a relationship with mother. She’s more powerful than him so she won in the battle of custody for us, but I like to believe that my sister and I turned out okay.
Our father has set up a trust fund for my sister as well, which she’ll gain access to when she comes of age. He also covers her school fees and gives her a small monthly stipend to use on top of her part time job. He entrusted me with the estate because he knows that I would never kick my mother or my sister out. That’s something that my mother knows, so I’m sure in her mind when I mate she believes that she’ll get this house to herself. That I’ll move in with my mate, rather than use this estate as my home and have my mate move in with me. I blink,yeah that’s probably not a bad idea, I don’t want to live with my mother.
My mother isn’t a bad person, just wrapped up in her issues and addictions. I honestly don’t believe that I’d be able to handle the stress of living with her again. Not to mention the monetary chaos she’d cause. I cringe just thinking about it.
“Oscar.”
Her irritated hiss has me snapping back to the present and an ache flares in my chest.
“No. Though my classes are going well.” I don’t mention Nessa, but she crosses my mind as I answer mother. I’dneveruse her like that though, my mother is only asking to see if she can use her somehow. Not to mention, we’re only friends, well, for now at least. Hopefully not for much longer though, if our kiss means as much to her as it does to me. Tingles bubble up in my chest at the thought, as the memory of her pillowy lips pressed to mine flash through my head. I lower my head again, not missing the sly look my sister throws at me as I refocus on my food, ignoring my mothers annoyed huff, and quickly finish my plate.
I zone out of the idle chatter for the rest of dinner, my mind focused on what I have to do after. My mind flashes back to my mother cornering me as soon as I walked in the door and I cringe.
I was focused on my phone, about to text Syn to let her know I was here so I could avoid being alone with our mother, when the front door opened. My eyes darted up and I sighed, shoving my phone in my pocket. I tried to summon a smile, eyes focused over her shoulder, knowing what she’s after by the desperation clinging to her scent. “Oscar, it’s been so long. I wasn’t sure if you’d be coming tonight or not.”
I barely managed not to groan, forcing the fake smile on my lips to widen. “Mother, how have you been?”
From my peripheral vision I could see her lower lip start to tremble and she hugged herself. My body tensed. Here it fucking comes. “Oh, just awful, sweetheart. I’ve been so lonely, your father won’t come see me. You hardly ever stop in, never answer my calls—” she kept on going and my body got tighter and tighter until I was sure my spine would fucking snap. She guilt tripped me until I felt awful, and frustration burned up my throat. As a B-class monster, I was hardwired to want to take care of people, and my mother knew exactly how to press all the right buttons.
It was always the same thing. Money. That’s all she wanted and cared about, it fueled her addictions and she turned into a freaking horror to be around when she ran out of it. My jaw twitched, teeth gritted together.
My fingers curled into fists and when the first tear rolled down her cheek, I broke. “I’ll have it to you tonight,” I said, voice dead and lifeless before I brushed past her, taking care not to actually touch her.
Shaking off the memory, I stay as long as is polite before excusing myself. Letting out a long breath, I quickly scrub off my plate before grabbing my coat. I’m about to pull it on when a hand grabs my forearm and drags me into the large coat closet. “What the heck?” I grunt, whirling on my sister with an annoyed frown, though amusement battles for supremacy inside me.
She grins at me, letting go of my arm to pull me into a short hug. “Brother, I wasn’t sure if you’d make an appearance tonight or not.”
I roll my shoulders, lips twitching as I fight a smile and watch the door. “Well, I’m here. So, what’s up? Couldn’t you have texted me later?”
Letting out a little huff, Syn sets her large eyes on me, curiosity practically shining from her pores. “Who is she?”
My eyes snap to hers in surprise. “What?”
“The girl.Nessa. Don’t think I didn’t catch some of those thoughts, brother. Your mental shields are just as crappy as they used to be. You really should work on that,” she complains, nose wrinkling.
I cringe. Telepathy is as much of a blessing as it is a curse and Syn still hasn’t found the off switch for hers yet. I’d hate to know what she’s caught from our mother in the past. I can only assume with her addictions that her mental shields would be weak. Especially when she’s at her lowest. Mine might suck with average thoughts, but so far I’ve been successful in concealing how I keep our mother stable.
“So, I’ll ask again, brother. Who is she and what’s she like? I hope she’s treating you well. And how come I haven’t heard about her?”
I earn a glare for that last question and I let my head fall back with a quiet groan. I really don’t want to get into this here.
“Tell you what, sister. Let’s meet up sometime and we can talk about it.” As I speak, I shrug on my coat and throw hers at her, before peering out into the hall to see if our mother has drifted this way or not. Satisfied that the coast is clear, I tug Syn out of the closet then usher her towards the front door as she complains.
When we’re safely out the front in the brisk air, my shoulders relax a little. Thank the goddess I made it through that.
Taking a hold of Syn’s shoulders, I tug her into a soft hug before pulling back with a forced grin. “We’ll talk about it, I promise, but for now I have somewhere I need to be.”
Her eyes tighten with worry and she sucks in a breath as though she’s about to question me, so I ruffle her hair and start walking down the path. Pretending not to see her look and calling over my shoulder. “Bye sis.”
“Bye,” her voice is a whisper, but I ignore it and the tension that her fear brings to my shoulders. She’s never known what I do to support my mother when she’s going through a rough patch, but she’s always suspected it was something risky and she couldn’t be more right.
The intermingled sharp scents of blood and fear permeate the warehouse with a strength that has my stomach turning and I consciously switch to breathing through my mouth, not that it helps much. I keep my head bowed, meticulously unwrapping, then rewrapping my hands. Trying to block out the roar of the crowd, their calls for blood and the thwack of fists against flesh, it eats away at my soul, not that my outward expression would hint at my thoughts.
No. To everyone else I’m sure I appear to be stoic, unfeeling and give zero fucks about what I’m about to do. The thud of a body hitting the ground a split second before the crowd goes wild signals that it’s my turn and I stand in an easy movement, swaggering towards the crude, cage-covered ring.
My opponent is busy grinning at the crowd when I enter the ring, waving his arms to amp them up. When he turns to face me, he scans me up and down so I can see the dismissal in his eyes. It happens a lot. Big brawny supes take one look at my pink hair and skin, swimmers build and pretty face and think I’m not a threat. Stupid if you ask me.
