by Lola Gabriel
But as they raced toward the home Kennedy shared with her father, Owen’s moral compass started to jump, and he considered what they were doing.
“We can’t just walk in there and blindside him,” he said after a long, pensive silence. “It’s not right, and no matter how he reacts, we can’t accept his answer as gospel.”
Kennedy looked at him dubiously. “What are you saying? You don’t want to go to him? We’re two seconds from my house.”
She lifted a finger and pointed toward the gates looming ahead: her property.
“I’m saying we shouldn’t go right now,” Owen said. “I think it’s something I should do man-to-man, not rush him with you. Emotions will be running high on all ends, and it’s better that we do this with as cool a head as possible.”
Kennedy had already pulled up, and Owen thought he saw a glimmer of relief in her eyes as she agreed. She wasn’t looking forward to the drama any more than he was, but the difference was that she would have to deal with the aftermath of Cameron’s wrath if she stayed and he was thrown from the property.
“Okay,” she conceded, parking before the house. “You can slip out through the back, and you’ll be ten minutes from the palace.”
Owen nodded, longing to kiss her, but he had seen the security cameras upon their entrance. No point in making Cameron suspicious before he needs to be.
Which brought Owen to the other matter weighing on his mind. He suspected the reason he’d changed his mind about seeing the Alpha that night had less to do with blindsiding him and more to do with the idea that once Cameron knew about him and Kennedy, there would be no going back. If he denied their relationship, which he more than likely would without Owen resorting to threats, Owen and Kennedy would be forced to hide like thieves in the night whenever they wanted to see one another.
If he held off on the confrontation, it at least bought them slightly more time where the eyes of the world wouldn’t be on them. He already knew that Theo, the salesman, was watching Kennedy like a myopic hawk, so meeting her at work was already out of the question.
You can only prolong the inevitable for so long, he told himself, padding into the massive palace kitchen. The night staff was messing about, half-preparing for the following day, half-taking advantage of the witching hours of the palace. They jumped to attention when they saw the prince, guilt flooding their collective faces.
“Mr. Parker!” they gasped. “How can we help you, sir?”
“You really can’t,” Owen sighed truthfully. “But I’ll take a beer if there’s one in that fridge.”
A rush of half-dozen sous-chefs rushed to oblige his request, and Owen idly remember the old, “How many chefs does it take to get a beer?” joke. A cold bottle was thrust into his hand, and he moved toward the hall again, thanking their team effort. On a whim, he paused and turned back to them.
“Barry, you’re a Lycan.” The dark-haired boy glanced nervously at his co-workers and then back at Owen, nodding slowly.
“Yes, Mr. Parker, I am.”
“Do you hate the dragons?”
A thick unrest fell over the kitchen, and the other employees fell away, shooting their gazes anywhere but at their boss.
“Of course not, Mr. Parker!” Barry blubbered, realizing that a moment too long had passed. “I am grateful for my employment, and—”
“I’m not firing you, Barry. I’m just wondering how deep the vendetta between the Lycans and dragons goes. Frankly, I had no idea such an antediluvian concept existed, but I’m learning something new all the time these days.”
Barry blinked and again looked to his friends for support, but they had all made themselves decidedly inconspicuous, suddenly finding themselves very busy with work.
“Some… some Lycans have held a grudge,” Barry mumbled, his face whiter than the linen napkins on the stainless-steel countertops. “But I’m not one of them.”
“So stupid and outdated,” Owen grumbled, more to himself than to the boy. “I mean, there isn’t a civilization in history that hasn’t been conquered at one time or another. To hold onto ancient history is ridiculous.”
“I agree!” Barry squeaked, even though Owen had already forgotten about him. He took a sip of his beer and moved back into the palace, trying to get a grip on his thoughts.
He ran directly into Wilder, and both brothers started in unison.
“Wilder, what are you doing up at this hour?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
Wilder’s eyes bored into him. “You’re obsessing about Kennedy Solstice, aren’t you?”
Owen gaped at his brother in surprise. How could he possibly have known that? As if reading his unspoken question, Wilder smirked.
“There are only three things that will keep a being awake: indigestion, which you can’t be suffering with a beer in your hands; work troubles, which I know you can’t be worried about, because your numbers are the best they’ve been in years—”
Owen didn’t have to ask how Wilder knew that. His brother had an unhealthy fixation on his brothers’ business dealings, a competitive streak that bothered the others more than it did Owen.
“—or a woman,” Wilder continued, “and given our last conversation, I’d say you’re all in puppy love.”
“It’s not puppy love!” Owen growled. “She’s my mate.”
Wilder whooped, his call loudly echoing through the halls.
“You are the last one of us I thought would subscribe to that line of crap,” he chuckled. “Have you been drinking more than usual?”
Owen wished he hadn’t said anything. He knew his brother was a cynic at heart.
“I’m going back to my rooms,” he muttered, turning away. As he did, he was knocked forward onto his face. The sweeping tail that had taken him down curled around him to pin him in place, and Owen looked up, scowling. Wilder had shifted, and he was now peering down at him with glowing amber eyes, challenging him to a fight.
“Come on, little brother,” he huffed, puffs of smoke emanating from his nostrils. “It’s been a while.”
Owen barely let him finish before tossing his practically untouched beverage aside, letting it crash against the wall into a million wet pieces. He soared toward the dome ceilings, his wings flapping to escape Wilder’s reach, but his brother had anticipated his move and countered him mid-air. Owen’s massive body ducked to the side, and he released a screech of protest, craning his neck back to exhale a splay of fire onto Wilder. Once again, his brother dodged the attack and flew forward to take him down.
In mid-air, they tangled into a flurry of scales and claws, feral grunts escaping them as they danced in a deadly wrestle. Below them, the staff gathered to see what the commotion was about but held back at a safe distance. It had been many years since anyone had seen the brothers engaged in their violent play, which would only end when one of them called for mercy.
“Is that the best you’ve got?” Wilder hissed, and his words only fuelled Owen’s pent-up frustrations. His tail whipped out to knock Wilder down ten feet, and he lunged, grappling the older dragon’s wings, disabling him. Wilder crashed to the floor, screaming in protest so loudly, the chandeliers above reverberated.
Immobilized, Wilder looked up at Owen, furious but defeated.
“All right,” he announced through between silvery blades of teeth, his lizard tongue snaking out to spit out the words. “You win this round.”
Owen kept his jaw tense, his scaly face inches from Wilder’s.
“You have to say it,” he insisted, sparks flying from his mouth. “Say the word.” Again, Wilder glared defiantly at him. “SAY IT!”
“Mercy.”
Instantly, Owen released him, transforming back into his mortal form, and he watched as Wilder sullenly pulled himself up.
“Who knew that love would make you so freakishly strong,” he grumbled, dusting off his silk pajamas. Owen’s eyes darted toward the staff, who remained rooted in awe at t
he display. He didn’t want them to overhear anything about Kennedy.
I have to be careful everywhere, he realized. I have no idea who could report back to Cameron.
His internal conflict must have read clearly on his face, because Wilder chuckled.
“I thought that little tussle would have relaxed you some, but I can see that didn’t work. Let’s get another beer, and we’ll talk in the library.”
“No,” Owen said firmly. He didn’t need Wilder’s brand of therapy. There was nothing his older brother could do to help, and Owen wasn’t in the mood to be razzed.
“You know, Owen,” Wilder called after him. “No one can stop you if you want to be with her. The Lycans know better than to start something they can’t finish. You really shouldn’t be agonizing over this too much. You’re a dragon. You can do whatever you want.”
Owen peered at him.
“Wilder, things don’t always need to be done by force,” he sighed. “Sometimes there are easier solutions to a problem than violence.”
“Easier? Probably not. More humane? You’re probably right.” Wilder shot him a dashing grin and shrugged his shoulders. “I have to tell you, though, little brother; in my experience, if you want others to take you seriously, you have to show them that you’re serious, too. That getting further with honey adage is bullshit. Vinegar has far more useful properties than honey; I assure you.”
“Thanks for the advice,” Owen mumbled.
“My point,” Wilder called, “is that we’ve got your back. If you choose to go to bat for this, know that we’ll make sure it happens.”
Owen wondered how his other brothers would feel about Wilder speaking for them, but he didn’t comment.
“Thanks,” he said, knowing that it was Wilder’s awkward way of showing his solidarity in the matter. “But there will be no uprising from this. Neither of us wants it.” He immediately regretted his words.
“So this is a thing?” Wilder demanded and he was at Owen’s side before the younger brother could even cringe at his gaffe. He’d already told Wilder far more than he wanted.
The first rule of this brotherhood is that we don’t give Wilder too much ammunition, Owen thought, and you’ve already broken it.
“She’s interested in you, too?” Wilder pressed, and Owen again cast a concerned look behind him. To his relief, the staff had dispensed, realizing that the show was over.
“Wilder, you can’t go around talking about this,” Owen pleaded. “It’s like you said: she is very close to her father and the pack. She’s a good girl, not one to go against her kind.”
“And yet she is.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” he snapped. “After all, we’re talking about emotions here.”
Wilder smirked at him. “Up until a couple days ago, I wouldn’t have thought you would know much on the topic, either.”
“Good night, Wilder. I might be asking too much, but can you please try to keep this information to yourself?” Wilder scoffed, apparently offended by the idea that he would go around gossiping.
“I have a conglomerate to run, Owen. I hardly have time to worry about your imploding love life.”
But beneath the surface, Owen heard a note of hurt in his voice, and he wondered if he had underestimated his brother. Maybe he’s lonely, too. Owen pushed the thought out of his mind. He had enough to think about without venturing into the deep and often dark psyche of his brother.
“Thanks,” was all Owen managed. “Good night.” He made his way toward the staircase, hoping that Wilder was done with his end of the conversation.
As he stole up the stairs in the shadows, his mind once more traveled toward the beautiful blonde he had left hours earlier. Can she sleep tonight? Is she pacing through her mansion, worrying like I am?
Owen had to smile mirthlessly at how silly such a problem would have seemed a week ago. In a way, he didn’t fault Wilder for being so brash and cold on the matter.
Does Wilder have a mate? he wondered and immediately felt guilty for the thought. Didn’t everyone have a mate?
Owen pushed open the double doors to his suite and stopped in shock.
“H-how did you get in here?” he choked, his eyes dilating with pleasure.
“Are you complaining?” Kennedy asked, rising from her spot on the couch in the sitting room. Owen shook his head vehemently and quickly shut the doors behind him.
“Not at all,” he replied, extending his arms to accept her into his embrace.
“Good,” she purred, snuggling into his chest. “I couldn’t sit around that house for another minute, knowing you were so close.”
Owen exhaled and squeezed her to his chest. “I know the feeling.”
“Owen, I—”
“I don’t think we should tell your father,” he interrupted her, and Kennedy leaned her head back, staring up at him.
“I was going to say the same thing,” she murmured. “Is that awful? Am I betraying my pack?”
“No!” Owen said firmly. “You’re not betraying anyone. The grudge is not yours; it’s your father’s, or at least your father’s tradition. You don’t have to accept his system, but you don’t need to encourage his wrath, either.”
Kennedy stared at him, her lips twisting into a bemused grin.
“His wrath? My dad would never turn on me. He might be a hard ass, but he loves me, Owen. I don’t want to tell him because he cares about me so much. It would hurt him, and he would lose face in the pack if this ever came to light. I think…” She trailed off, as if collecting her next words. “I think if we want to pursue this, we have to find a way to do it in secret. Is this something you can live with? I know you’re the most powerful being in the Hollows, and I know it’s asking a lot, but—”
“Kennedy, if it means that you and I can be together peacefully, I don’t care what it takes. I am not looking to make an enemy in your father or in the pack. But you do understand we can’t carry on like this forever, right? At some point, he will need to learn the truth.”
“Why?” Owen stared at her, wondering if she was serious. He only saw helplessness in her eyes.
“Because one day, Kennedy, I will want to marry you, have babies with you. I think he might start getting suspicious at that point,” Owen answered gently. Kennedy’s green eyes widened, and he wondered if she had not considered the future.
“You think you’ll want to marry me one day?” she whispered.
“No,” he said. “I know I will.”
Happiness overrode Kennedy’s look of distress, and she melted back against him, burying her face in his chest. For the first time, Owen got the comforting sense that everything would be fine, despite the troubles they might face in the future.
Then again, his sixth sense had been wrong before.
8
The shame that shadowed Kennedy was overtaken by the pleasure she experienced both in Owen’s arms and basking in the afterglow of his embraces. She felt like she was walking on a cloud throughout her days, eagerly looking forward to the nights, when she would see Owen.
Sometimes, he would be away on the Sunside for business, and she would join him on her days off. Suddenly, the other world didn’t seem so boring, not with the dragon prince on her arm. There was a certain freedom when she was out of the Hollows, one which permitted them to be themselves without fear of being caught holding hands or stealing kisses.
“I’m buying a house here,” Owen told her one day. “It will be my first ever on the Sunside. Where should I look?”
Kennedy stared at him in surprise.
“Why are you buying one now?” she asked. He laughed and pulled her closer as they walked through the cobblestone streets of Vienna.
“Are you really asking me why? Obviously so we can have a place to be together without worry. Maybe you can ask your father if you can run one of his shops up here.”
Kennedy didn’t know whether that was a wise idea, especially since her father had been looking at her with strange ey
es lately, as if he knew something was amiss. Kennedy was sure that it was her imagination. After all, a guilty mind could concoct whatever it wanted to project. Still, she didn’t want to push her father, not until she was sure that she and Owen were in relatively safe territory.
It certainly felt safe, however. A small part of her waited for the other shoe to drop, for something to come crashing down and threaten their happiness, but the days kept passing, and their relationship grew stronger with each day that went by.
“Maybe,” she replied elusively. “I’ll talk to him about it.
She didn’t know why she didn’t share her fears with Owen. She just didn’t want to put a damper on their gloriously blooming situation. It had been two weeks since they had committed to one another, and it seemed to Kennedy that she was falling more in love with him with each minute.
“So?” Owen insisted. “Where should I buy a place? Here in Europe? In the States?”
Kennedy laughed. “I hadn’t given it a single thought up until now,” she confessed. “But I will.”
And she meant it. It gave her tingles of excitement to envision them sharing a life together, removed from everything they both knew. She found herself looking at the Sunside in a different way. The colors seemed brighter, the mortals less obnoxious.
This is what love feels like, she thought and pressed herself closer to Owen. Even their silence was comfortable, something Kennedy had never known with another person.
Then, like the gods were mocking her newly found sense of peace, her cell phone rang from within her purse.
“Let me guess,” Owen chimed. “Dad?”
Kennedy grimaced and reached into her bag, inadvertently answering the call with her finger touching the “accept” button.
“Shit,” she muttered before grabbing it and pressing the device to her ear. “Hello?”
“Kennedy.” Her heart sank, and she cursed herself again for being so careless. It had been almost a week and a half since she had told Rocco to stop calling her, and to her surprise, he had listened—until that moment.
