“Why didn’t you tell us?” my father inquires.
Of course his first words would be to ask why I didn’t inform him. He should have been one of the first people to know the next head of family was injured or ill. It was a minor case and I felt no need to have him rush to my home with mother in tow to baby me back to health as if I wasn’t capable or being well looked after by Benjamin and Everett.
“When? You should be resting.” Mother grasps my arm. Her eyes widen and her nimble fingers quickly slip the buttons holding my shirt cuff together free. I don’t fight as she rolls the fabric up, exposing a white bandage. I am mostly healed and there is no cause for concern; the bandage is just a precaution Benjamin insisted I take.
“It was a minor event,” I assure my mother, freeing my hand from Everett’s so I can pat her fingers. “Everett retrieved Ben and they looked after my health. There really is no cause for concern.” She still frowns, her fingers curling just under the bandage as she peers up at me as if I am still six years old and have just returned home after being lost in Necropolis.
“Ben turned into a huge dragon,” Everett says, calling attention to himself. “It was amazing. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Mason whines, bending backward slightly as he tosses his hands into the air. “He never lets me see him as a dragon,” the prankster complains.
I’d never seen Benjamin as a dragon either. He’d been serving my family for centuries and I can’t even be sure my father knew him in his secondary form. I wonder occasionally but never ask because I know the beast inside of him is sacred and not for public observation.
“Because you’re judgmental,” Lilith teases Mason. It isn’t true but he crosses his arms and pouts as if it is.
“And you would ask for a ride,” Sophia adds, ganging up with Lilith to kick Mason around a little.
“He let me ride him,” Everett says.
I choke slightly and receive a well-placed elbow just below my ribcage from Everett.
“No fair!” Mason shouts, turning to the chair he deserted and flopping down. “I always miss the cool stuff,” he mumbles exactly like a thirteen-year-old boy who slept through a family outing might do. Mother moves to his side and pats his head but he continues to sulk.
“Sun poisoning was so cool,” I tell Mason, finding his behavior ridiculous under the circumstances. “I loved having my flesh peel off.”
Mother gasps, her eyes expanding. Father makes some noise in the back of his throat as my sisters cover their mouths. Mason looks just as horrified as everyone else. I sigh. Maybe it is too soon for me to make jokes and be sarcastic about the incident.
“You said minor, Athanasios!” Mother yells, her face turning pink. Going to his wife, Father puts his arm around her shoulder and presses a kiss into her temple. She bristles even under his touch.
“And you helped Father trick me into marriage. At least I come by my lying honest,” I retort.
Everett shifts beside me; the corner of his lips pulled down as he frowns. “Tricked . . . how?”
“Father knew Thanos would sacrifice himself for me,” Sophia speaks before anyone else can. She is too smart not to have been aware of the plan from the beginning. Maybe all of my siblings were in on it since I was the only who would need to be toyed with. “He offered me as the bride to get his way without making a demand.”
It was a trick I fell for hook, line and sinker. As soon as I knew Sophia was on the chopping block, I stormed into my father’s office spitting mad. He said he saw no other solution to end the war and I offered myself up like some sacrificial lamb, just as Father knew I would. I doubted David Dawson had been aware of my father's end goal.
“Oh.” There is a wealth of emotions I can’t begin to decipher in that one muttered word from Everett. Pulling my arm away from his shoulder, I touch the bottom of his chin with my index finger so I can lift his head. His blue eyes search my face and I smile softly.
“I have told you before, despite the circumstances under which we married, I am happy for it. The way things have turned out is how I wish them. I am where I desire to be.” My fingers move from his chin until I cup his jaw. “I would have never picked you as a partner and for that, I’d have been a fool.” Curling his fingers around my wrist, Everett smiles softly.
“Do you really mean that?” he questions softly and I nod.
“I do,” I assure him.
“Aww!” Mason cries loudly, jumping up from his chair. “Thanos and Everett sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes lo—” Moving swiftly, I plant my hands on my brother’s shoulders. He yelps, stumbles backwards a couple feet, and comes to the edge of the creek when I give him a hard push. With wide eyes, he pinwheels, trying to stay on his feet.
“Don’t!” he cries as I lift my fingers.
“Do it!” Lilith and Sophia cry together. Planting my index finger in Mason’s chest, I give him a grin and a soft push. He cries out, reaching for me but I move out of his grasp. Crashing into the water, he sinks a couple of feet before jumping up soaking wet and sputtering. This time as he stomps his way out of the water, everyone else laughs.
“What were you saying?” I ask Mason. He lifts his hand, his middle finger standing at attention while the rest are curled into his palm. Mother tsks but turns her attention to Everett.
Touching his arm lightly, she smiles. “I am glad you are happy with Thanos. And I am pleased you are family.”
Leaning in, Mother embraces Everett. After a couple of seconds, he returns the gesture.
“Really?” he asks as she pulls back. “Even though I’m . . .”
“None of us choose what we are born as,” Mother tells Everett as I take his hand in mine. “We all choose who we are, though. You have proven yourself to be a good man. I could not have wished for a better partner for my son.” Father nods his head in agreement, tossing his arm around Mother’s shoulder once more. She slips her arm around his waist and smiles.
“We are pleased to have you as a part of our clan, Everett. The future is bright,” Father tells him.
Everett looks at each of us, his brows pulled down. It must have seemed so strange for my family to so easily accept him after such a long war but I know none of us are truly mad at the Vârcolaci. The Moroii fought because it was tradition.
Traditions change, sometimes for the better. If the bad blood could be forgotten then it should be. Let bygones be bygones, as the saying goes.
“Best friends!” Mason cries, grabbing Everett’s forearm and yanking him away from me.
“He’s our friend, too,” Sophia protests Mason’s claiming.
“Nope,” Mason says. His arm goes around Everett’s shoulder. “As the brother-in-law, it’s my job to be his B.F.F.” Rolling my eyes, I take Everett’s hand and free him from Mason’s hold.
“As the husband, it’s my job to save my life partner from your insanity.”
Everett laughs, leaning into my side. “My hero,” he teases and I press a kiss to his temple.
“I try.” And strangely enough, I do. I try to be better than I am for him.
“Yeah?” Everett asks, clearly curious as to if I mean it.
“Always, любимый.” Pressing onto his tiptoes, Everett’s lips touch mine. Pushing my fingers into his hair, I tip his head back ever so slightly so I can move our mouths more firmly together.
Mason mutters as Everett’s lip parts for me, “First comes marriage then comes love.”
21
Death doesn’t seem so bad now that I am suffering through what feels like an eternity at the Dawson dinner table. It couldn’t have been more than two hours since Everett and I arrived at his family estate. It is only in the last fifteen minutes we sat down to actually eat.
The meet and greet, and follow-up attempt on his family's part to ‘entertain’ us was awkward but this . . . this is pure misery.
Why had I agreed to the madness when Susan Dawson called to invite us to dinner just a few hours previous? It wasn’
t because of Everett. He didn’t want to come. I am the one who insisted. Now . . . I regret it profusely.
Lifting my fork to my lips, my gaze flickers around the table. Everyone is silently eating, refusing to meet each other's gaze. It is vastly different than what I am used to. The dinner table in my family home has always been an unofficial meeting room.
When the day is coming to a close, we gather to share a good meal and lively conversation. Someone is always talking, telling a story or teasing someone about something that has occurred at one time or another. The Dawson’s are silent, apparently doing their damnedest to eat quickly and ignore each other completely.
Is that natural or a side effect of my presence?
Everett shifts in his chair and my gaze moves over him. He glances my way before quickly looking back at his plate. After a second of indecision, I slip my hand under the table and lay it on his knee, causing him to jerk ever so slightly. The sharp movement is enough to attract his father’s attention.
David looks between us with a scowl.
“Thank you for accepting our invitation to dinner, Thanos,” Mrs. Dawson speaks presumably before her husband can; her voice is soft and musical.
My gaze flicks around the table again to find Everett’s sister as silent as mice. Not one of them lifts their head. It’s no surprise I am not sure of their names or even which of them is the oldest, middle, and youngest daughter. There has been no opportunity to become familiar with the sisters and I doubt there will be. The six led a sheltered life inside the Dawson home.
“Of course, thank you for inviting us,” I say, offering her a polite smile. “Everett and I have been meaning to come to the city so this created a wonderful opportunity.”
We turned the sunroom into an art studio and then Everett mentioned a desire to look at empty spaces that would be great for an art shop, where he could teach. It didn’t take long to get in contact with a realtor. Most of today has been spent looking at opening after opening. We will look until Everett finds the perfect spot but I am of the belief he already did and is simply waiting to be sure of what he wants.
“I wasn’t aware you had business in the city,” Mr. Dawson speaks, his voice like gravel as it rolls from between his lips. It takes a considerable amount of effort to refrain from reminding him that he won’t know if or when I have business in the city, or anywhere for that matter, because it is none of his concern. He may be my father-in-law but he isn’t privy to my affairs.
“I’m opening an art gallery,” Everett answers, his voice notches softer than I am used to. The sound is so low, I wonder if his family can hear him but from the sudden shifting of his sisters as they lift their head to inspect their brother, I know they do.
“Whatever for?” David asks, his tone flippant. He doesn’t approve but Everett has already explained his father doesn’t approve of anything he does.
“Well, I mean . . . I like art an—”
“How many times do I have to tell you art is a senseless pursuit?” David’s voice is harsh, reminding me of a gunshot in an empty room, as he reprimands Everett. My husband’s shoulders fall as he shrinks into himself. A fire bursts to life in my stomach at the dip of his chin.
Who the hell does David Dawson think he is?
What right does he have to dismiss Everett’s hobbies?
Just what kind of parent is he?
“Art has always played a huge roll in my family,” I speak, setting my napkin on the table by my plate after I wipe my mouth off. “Everett is extremely talented and I believe the public will receive him well. My mother works closely with the community center and many of the inner-city children have already shown interest in the art classes he plans to offer to the disadvantaged public.”
“At least you have the sense to make your own money instead of being a kept wife,” Dawson snaps, ignoring me completely. Everett’s ears turn a frightening shade of scarlet. If it was possible, I believe he would have sunk under the table or simply tried to disappear altogether.
My fingers tighten on his leg and I swallow the acidic rage that washes over my tongue, careful to not let my irritation color my speech when I speak, “My husband is providing the community a service at the expense of his own time. I’m quite proud although if he did choose to keep a home, I would find no fault with him for following in my beloved mother’s footsteps. And your wife's, too, I believe?”
David turns an ugly color now as his chest puffs out. I can almost see his hackles rising. Clearly he does not like what I insinuated but I couldn’t care less what David Dawson thinks. He may be my father-in-law but he is no father. “How ridicu—“
“David,” Mrs. Dawson says, cutting across her husband’s remark.
“I’m simply saying the boy isn’t a fanciful woman. He should be made to earn his place by some other means than lying on his back. Art is a waste of his time.” I move to stand, rage erupting like a volcano, but Everett’s fingers around my wrist halt me.
Looking at him, his eyes are sad, his face painted a shade of ugly pink.
My jaw ticks as Everett shakes his head.
David needs someone to knock him down a peg or two. Firstly, for his continued degrading insults of my husband. Secondly, for speaking as if Everett isn’t sitting just down the table from him and capable of understanding every word uttered. And thirdly, for implying my mother was a fanciful woman. I am just the person to do it.
“I think it’s wonderful, dear. I hope it goes well. Maybe your sisters and I will stop in after it’s opened. We could all benefit from an art lesson,” Susan speaks, giving her son a small smile. It doesn’t reach her eyes. Everett doesn’t see it because he doesn’t lift his eyes from his lap.
Turning my hand, I free my wrist from his fingers and lace our hands together.
“Don’t molly coddle the boy, Susan. That’s part of the reason he’s so weak now.”
That is it. I’ve kept silent long enough.
“You’ll have to excuse me for saying so, David, but you have no right to speak to my husband that way. In fact—” My phone rings, halting my speech. Everett exhales heavily as I reach for the device and answer by sliding my finger across the screen. “What?” I bark and pause as a giant shaking sob fills the silence on the other end. “Mother?” I shoot to my feet, panic curling hot fingers around my cold heart. “What’s happened?”
“There’s been an attack, Thanos. Lilith is hurt. You need to come to the Necropolis General Zone A Hospital.” I suck in a heavy breath, my heart seeming to stop as the whole world freezes inside a single beat of the organ.
Lilith is hurt.
My mind races with a million and one questions.
My little sister is hurt.
How? Why?
“I’m on my way. I’m coming now.” Mother sniffs on the other end of the line, her sobbing growing louder. My father mumbles something in the background before the line dies.
I close my eyes, inhale slowly and straighten myself after gathering a measure of composure. Slipping my phone in my pocket, I grasp Everett’s hand again, this time pulling him from his chair as the Dawson family peers at me as if I am insane. Maybe I am. I feel as if I’ve gone mad.
“Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Dawson. Please excuse us; we have family affairs.” Everett frowns as he searches my expression for answers.
“What’s wrong?” he asks as I step away from the silent table.
“Lilith has been attacked. She’s in the hospital,” I say, my voice cracking on the last word. Everett’s face pales, the red stain from only moments ago completely gone.
“Oh my,” exclaims Susan. “I do hope she’ll be okay. Please, let us know if you need anything.” I nod. She stands up, taking a second to embrace her son while David scowls before seeming to decide ignoring his wife and youngest child is the best course of action if he wishes to enjoy his meal.
“Thank you for dinner,” I tell her once more before pulling Everett from his family’s estate. Climbing into my car, we both
buckle quickly and I begin to pull out of the drive.
“Do you know if Lilith is going to be okay?” Everett asks as I merge into traffic. My fingers tighten around the steering wheel as my eyes dart over the car lights that look like too bright stars passing us by.
“No,” I say.
“No, you don’t know or . . . ” Everett trails off.
“I don’t know,” I clarify. My stomach rolls.
Who in the hell would want to hurt my sister?
She is crazy to be sure but she is harmless. People generally love her. For the past six years, she’s dedicated her time to school and volunteering. When does she have the time to meet the kind of people bold enough to attack Richard Right’s oldest daughter?
“Lilith is strong,” Everett tells me, one of his hands landing on my forearm. I glance in his direction and he tries to give a reassuring smile. “She’ll be okay.”
I squeeze my eyes closed for half a second but can’t find a proper reply so I drive in silence. Everett’s hand never leaves my forearm and it only takes him a second to lace our fingers together after we arrive at the hospital and climb out of my car.
My father meets us at the front door, his expression grave.
“Where is she?” I immediately ask.
“Thanos—”
“No, I want to see her.” I don’t want to make battle plans or field phone calls from her friends, co-workers and professors if the news has traveled outside of our family. There is no way I am making a trip to the estate to gather her things—not until I see her at least.
“You can’t,” Father says and my fingers tighten around Everett’s. Why the hell not? I am tempted to scream. “She’s in surgery.”
Everett gasps in horror as my knees weaken. “What the hell happened to her?”
“She was jumped on her way home from work. Some of her things are missing. The officers who found her—“ Father swallows hard and closes his eyes. “She tried to fight back and that made them angry.” Inhaling sharply, he fights tears.
After The I Do Page 14
