My mother poured her third glass of wine, toying with the rings lining her knuckles as she sipped it. Her eyes fell closed, and she was likely remembering a time when Ezra and I weren’t on opposite sides of corruption.
It felt like a lifetime ago.
“I’ll assume your possessiveness is an indicator of the intensity of this relationship.”
My fingers tightened around my tumbler. “He’s my priority now, and I only brought him up to burn that truth into existence.”
“Are we going to meet him?”
My whiskey was suddenly tasteless. “No.”
“Allow me to amend my question, dear.” My mother cast a glance at Ezra. “AmIgoing to meet him?”
“No.”
The skin around her eyes pulled taut. “Why the fuck not?”
“Because he’s mine.” I said simply. “And I don’t fucking intend on sharing him.”
“Okay, asshole.” Ezra shook his head. “I’m sure he’ll love spending the rest of his feeble life as your prisoner, though if he works for Ben, I imagine he already is one.”
“Ezra, for fuck’s sake.” My mother’s palm hit the top of the table hard enough the glasses rattled and a fork hit the ground. “I’ve told you both time and time again that I don’t want to hear this argument on a continuous loop. Who your brother works for is none of your fucking business.”
That’swhat it all boiled down to.
My brother’s endless hostility toward me started and ended with the man I worked for. A decade ago, my brother was my best friend, but over the years he’d let his animosity turn him into an enemy, and now I couldn’t fucking look at him without being pummeled with an urge to send a bullet straight down his throat.
I stood.
My mother glanced at me with an obvious challenge in her eyes. “Sit the fuck down, Elijah.”
“Nah, I’m done here.” I tossed back the rest of my whiskey, buttoning my jacket. My jaw ticked, and I ran my tongue over my teeth before pinning my brother with a glare. “My problems with you were bred the moment you came for me. I tolerate you for our mother’s sake, but make no fucking mistake, Ezra, if you touch my boy the same way you touched me, I will blow your hands off your arms right before I blow your head off your goddamn neck.”
ChapterEight
Silas
Good boy.
Good boy.
Good boy.
I was Daddy’s good boy.
My cheeks felt funny, and when I slapped my hands against them, I found them warm and a little sweaty. Thea told me it was my happy face, and the reason for my sunny cheeks was the same reason I couldn’t stop smiling.
Daddy.
He looked so fucking handsome tonight—so feral and deadly. Black was his favorite color, and he always decorated himself in shadows, dressing head to toe in darkness. He carried a cloud of quiet danger with him, and it was rare I got to see him dressed up like this.
His hair was loose tonight, swept back neatly and tucked behind his ears. The ends of it brushed the tops of his shoulders, and I ran my fingers across my screen, my stomach binding with the need to touch him.
He’d left the top two buttons of his shirt un-done, exposing a subtle patch of skin just below his neck andohmygodI wanted to lick it.
That was allowed.
Daddy promised me I could lick him wherever I wanted.