Chapter Thirty-Four
And the gloves were off. Bryn leaned back in her seat. “What do you think is going on between us?”
“I may be old, but I’m not blind. The boy cares for you in a way you’ll never be able to care for him. I want you to release him from his bond and go back to your own kind.”
“Wow. You’re more like my grandmother than I thought.” Bryn smacked her mug down on the table. “For your information, I do care about Valmont. Is the situation complicated? Yes. Do I have any idea what the hell I’m doing? No. All I know is that in the last month I lost someone I thought would always be there for me, and then I lost my parents. I’m living with people who I’m bound to disappoint because I’ll never be the person they want me to be.” Fire banked in her gut. She focused on cold to change the flames to ice. Frost shot from her nose as she exhaled. “Valmont is one of the only good things left in my life, so until he tells me he doesn’t want me around, I’m not going anywhere.” She pushed her chair farther from the table and stood. “And for the record, your cookies suck.”
The kitchen, which had seemed warm and cozy, now seemed stifling. She needed to escape, to run outside and leave this disaster behind. She turned to the door. Valmont stood there gripping the doorframe like he wanted to tear the house down board by board.
“Time for me to leave.” She brushed past him and ran out the front door. Now what? Did she head to his car presuming he’d give her a ride home? She couldn’t just sit in his car and wait. What if he wasn’t coming? What his grandmother said wasn’t untrue. Was she being selfish by holding on to Valmont?
With no other idea of what to do, she stalked down Main Street. If he didn’t come after her, she’d fly home. Damn it, why isn’t he coming after me?
And just like that, all the fight drained out of her. She sat down on the curb of the sidewalk and doubled over with her head on her knees. If he didn’t come after her…she couldn’t take one more loss. Not one more.
The sound of footsteps approaching made her raise her head. Eyebrows slammed together, lips set in a grim line, Valmont looked mad. Was he angry at her?
“Come with me.” His tone wasn’t exactly friendly, though he wasn’t telling her to go away. She stood and followed him back to his car, where he opened the door for her. That was a good sign, right?
They drove in silence. Every second without any words from him had her digging her nails deeper into her palms. She didn’t bother to ask where they were going. He was taking her home or up to his cabin. When he turned into the woods down the way they’d taken when she’d visited his cabin before, her body sagged with relief.
“Thank you.”
“For what?” he asked.
“For not sending me straight back to my grandparents’ house.”
“What my grandmother said…” He huffed out a breath. “She had no right. I had no idea you were walking into an ambush. I’m just so—” He smacked the steering wheel.
When they arrived at his cabin, it was exactly like she remembered. Anyone who didn’t know where they were going could drive right by it. The vegetation had been allowed to grow over the structure until it was camouflaged. It wasn’t until he drove past the sensor in the driveway and warm yellow light shone through the living room windows that you were even sure the cabin was there.
Valmont came around and opened her door. He held her hand on the walk up to the front door. Once they were inside, he pointed at the rug in front of the couch. “I forgot to thank you for the Christmas present.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
“I’m sorry, but your present is at my grandparents’ house.”
“That’s okay.” She was disappointed, but there wasn’t a chance in hell she’d step foot in his grandmother’s house again.
He led her to the couch. Seated so that their thighs brushed against each other, Valmont put his arm around Bryn’s shoulders. She leaned into his solid warmth. What did she want? She wanted Valmont as a friend and maybe more than that. Before, he’d said he’d be there for her in whatever way she needed. Was it unfair to encourage his affections? It’s not like she was toying with him. She liked him, needed him in her life. Her grandparents would try their hardest to set her up with the standard arranged marriage. And her grandmother and Lillith would try to arrange something between her and Jaxon. While she might not hate Jaxon anymore, she knew he’d never see her as datable, and as handsome as he was, she wanted to hit him over the head with a bat most of the time.
Closing her eyes, she asked the question she wasn’t sure she wanted an answer to. “What are we doing?”
“I don’t know.” He chuckled. “Being the only knight called to duty in generations doesn’t leave me with a mentor to talk to. The statue up on the hill isn’t much help.”
“Do you think the legend is true?” Bryn asked.
“Yes.” There wasn’t a bit of doubt in his voice. “Open your eyes.” She did as he asked. His gaze was like an ice-blue tractor beam pulling her in. “I don’t want to lose you, but I don’t want to do anything to push you away. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I can’t lose you. What I said to your grandmother was true. Right now, you’re my rock. You’re the one person I can count on.”
He dropped his gaze and spoke in a soft voice. “Your grandparents, they’re trying to set up an arranged marriage for you. Do you want that?”
“No.” She didn’t even have to think about it. “I want to be with someone I love, not someone the Directorate deems as my compatible mate.”
“Good.” He looked up. “Then there’s only one suitable answer.”
“What?”
“This.” He leaned in, giving her time to back out if she wasn’t interested. Did she want him to kiss her? Hell, yes. Was it wrong? Right now it didn’t feel wrong. Letting her eyes flutter shut, she moved toward him; his warm breath feathered across her lips and—
Knock knock knock.
Startled, Bryn jerked backward.
“Of all the lousy timing.” Valmont shot to his feet, stalked across the room, and yanked the door open. From her vantage point on the couch, Bryn saw the last person she expected to show up at Valmont’s cabin. “Jaxon? What are you doing here?”
“My mother had a craving for cannoli. She asked me to pick some up from Fonzoli’s. The old woman who answered the door refused to give it to me unless I flew up here to speak with Bryn.” Jaxon shot her an evil glare. “She said, if you both don’t come back for Christmas lunch she will call Bryn’s grandmother. I don’t know what is going on between you two, and I don’t care.” He tossed a cell phone to Valmont. “Call the old lady. Tell her I delivered the message and I’ll be there in five minutes to pick up my order.”
Valmont stared at Jaxon like he was insane.
“My mother is pregnant, irrational, and more than likely crying. Make the call.”
Valmont dialed.
“Why isn’t your father picking up the cannoli for your mother?” Bryn asked.
“She asked him, and he volunteered me for the job,” Jaxon bit out.
She wanted to ask if he now agreed that his father was a jerk, but thought that might end in bloodshed.
Valmont hung up and tossed the phone back to Jaxon. “She doubled your order, no charge.”
“How kind of her.” Jaxon stepped outside the cabin, shifted, and took flight.
Valmont slammed the door and then turned to lean his back against it.
“Do we have to go back?” Seeing his grandmother again, who had looked all warm and loving on the outside, but was mean and conniving on the inside, was just too much. She’d had such hopes for a warm family dinner, something to replace a bit of what she’d lost. While her own grandparents meant well, most of the time, they didn’t do warm and loving. Maybe warm and loving wasn’t part of dragon culture. It certainly didn’t seem to be part of her life.
“We don’t have to go back, unless you find the idea of your grandmother teaming up with mine as terrifying as I do.”
“That is one scary thought.”
“Then we have to go back.”
Once they were parked back at Fonzoli’s, Bryn balked. “I can’t go back in there with you.”
“Why not?”
She grabbed his hand and squeezed. “It’s stupid, but I can’t take any more rejection. When I came here today, I thought I’d find a place where I was welcomed, where I could belong.” Bitter laughter poured from her throat.
He slid over and put his arm around her shoulders. “You’re welcome here. My grandmother’s overprotective of me. I don’t like what she did, but it’s over. Can’t we go inside, ignore everyone, and have a nice meal?”
Every instinct told her no. Should she do it for him? He would do anything for her. She knew that. What did it say about her that she wouldn’t do the same? Did it mean his grandmother was right? That settled it. She’d go inside and pretend to have a nice time if for no other reason than to show his grandmother she was wrong. Because she needed his grandmother to be wrong.
“Am I allowed to shoot fireballs at anyone who is mean to me?”
He tapped his chin like he was thinking about it. “That might set the house on fire, and that would put a damper on Christmas. You could accidentally cough up a snowball if you want.”
“I guess that will have to do.”
His grandmother watched them walk up to the doorway, but stood blocking the entrance with her arms crossed over her chest. “You are a rude, headstrong girl.”
What the hell? Could she insult his grandmother back? Was that allowed?
“You’re being rude to my guest,” Valmont said in a quiet voice. “Are we invited in for lunch or not?”
His grandmother narrowed her eyes, but stepped aside, muttering something in Italian. Valmont stiffened.
“What did she say?” Bryn asked.
“It’s not worth repeating.” Valmont put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a hug, kissing the top of her head.
She leaned into his warmth, knowing what she needed to do and not wanting to do it. She lifted her face to meet his gaze. “There isn’t a single way I can imagine this lunch ending well. I should go.”
Maybe he’d disagree with her. A spark of hope flared in her gut, or maybe that was just residual anger.
“Unfortunately, I think you’re right. I’ll drive you back.”
“No. Stay and have a nice lunch with the members of your family that don’t hate me.” She shot his grandmother a look. “I’ll fly back. I need the exercise to burn off some of this anger.”
“Are you sure you know how to get back to your grandparents’ estate?”
She laughed and pointed to the east. “Fly that way until I see the obscenely large house that reeks of money and tradition?”
“That sounds about right.” His single dimple appeared. As long as he still cared about her, things seemed okay.
She stepped outside, gave a small wave, and then shifted. It might have been immature, but she took a moment to glare at his grandmother and growl. Then she pushed off the ground and took flight. Straight up into the air, she pumped her wings and reveled in the sensation of freedom that flying always brought. In dragon form, she could fly anywhere, do anything. If only there was a place she wanted to go. Maybe someday she and Valmont would take a trip together.
From the cloudy sky, she studied the layout of Dragon’s Bluff, and the winding road leading out of town to Valmont’s cabin. Farther off into the forest toward the east lay her grandparents’ estate. It wasn’t visible, but she knew it was there.
Allowing the wind to carry away her anger, she flew toward her destination. Was anyone else out enjoying the cool December weather, or were they all inside spending Christmas with their families? Best not to go down that path. Thinking about her parents, about what she’d never have again if Valmont’s grandmother was any indication, would lead to tears. If she cried, it would be behind closed doors where no one could interpret her feelings as weakness.
Wait. Where had that thought come from? If she wanted to cry, she’d cry wherever she wanted to. Who cared what other dragons thought? Her grandparents would care. Jaxon would care. Damn it all if her Blue genes weren’t starting to make her care, too. Must be some type of inbred instinct. Her friends had told her that Blues were notoriously proud, but loyal to a fault, which meant revenge was the first option for some of them.
So what if everyone else had a cozy family to spend time with. She’d do just fine with her grandparents, Valmont, and her friends. What other choice did she have?
Something registered in her peripheral vision. Blinking, she turned and checked for company. It must have been a bird. Being cautious, she circled, like she was enjoying her flight, without a concern in the world.
Blip. There it was again. Someone was watching her, she was sure of it. Maybe flying by herself when there were people attacking Directorate members families wasn’t the best idea, but Jaxon had been out by himself, so it must be okay. Right?
Hoping to keep the element of surprise, she drove up into the air and rolled like she was playing around. From this higher vantage point, she saw nothing.
Was she paranoid?
Blip. Damn it. Someone was playing games with her or stalking her. Either way, she didn’t plan to stick around and find out. Tucking her wings to her body, she dove down, building up speed before she curved back up again. Flying the way a dolphin would swim. Pretending to play while she flew as fast as she could.
She banked the flames in her gut, in case she needed to shoot a fireball at someone’s head. As bad as her afternoon had gone, she’d shoot a fireball at any dragon who approached and apologize later, if need be.
Pumping her wings, she drove up and dove down. Her breath came faster as she repeated this maneuver again and again. Was she being too predictable? She performed a diving roll on the next downward dive. There in the distance, she could see the lights glowing from her grandparents’ estate. In five minutes she’d be inside, drinking hot cocoa, eating cookies that didn’t suck, and laughing about all of this.
Blip. Blip. Two Black dragons appeared out of nowhere, a hundred yards out, flanking her on either side. This time, they didn’t disappear; they kept pace with her. Keeping their distance, but making sure they were seen. What did that mean?
She didn’t recognize the human features that flashed across their faces. Both were male. That was all she knew for sure. Giving up on pretending they weren’t creeping her out, she focused all her attention on outflying them. She was the fastest flyer on campus. Time to give up pretenses and outrun the creepy bastards.
Push. Push. Push. Her wing muscles ached with exertion. The tendons burned. Just a few more minutes; she could do this. She had to do this. Her life might depend on it. The Black dragons couldn’t keep up. The one on the left dropped out of sight, and then the one on the right.
The forest below her thinned out. Thank God, she was at the edge of her grandparents’ estate. Almost home. Wait. Had she just thought of this place as home?
Bam. Her wings. She couldn’t move her wings. Lashing out with teeth and claws, she tore at whatever ensnared her. Fire crawled up her throat; she inhaled and spouted flames all around her, roaring in frustration as she plummeted to the ground.
What was binding her? A spell? A net? Her wings bent at an unnatural angle. Pain, so much pain, she couldn’t breathe. Shift. Maybe she could escape in human form. Get out of whatever held her and then shift back and fly away. She shifted to human form. The net, she could see it now. With holes large enough to crawl through. Struggling, she wiggled through an opening.
Shouts came from all around her. The ground came up fast. The net still held her calves. No more time. She shifted back, praying the net would break from the strain. Pain, burning searing pain as the net sliced into her flank like a razor. With the last of her energy, she shifted back to human form, slammed into the ground, and the world went black.
…
Noise filtered through the fuzziness of her head. Was someone talking? Saying her name? Had she been captured? Doing her best to lie still, she played dead and listened.
Wait a minute, shouldn’t she be in pain? All she felt was numb. Warmth surrounded her, but she felt nothing. Opening her eyes to slits, she tried to focus. Green. Green filled her vision.
“I think she’s coming to,” a voice said.
“Bryn?” She felt pressure on her hand. Someone was holding it. “Bryn? What in the hell were you thinking?”
Wait. That voice she recognized. She opened her eyes. More green, and then the green was gone. In its place a watercolor version of her grandmother. “You’re blurry.”
“You’ve had a head injury. Your vision will improve,” a different voice said.
There was the green again. It was scrubs. Medics wore green scrubs. A Green dragon was wearing green scrubs. Laughter bubbled from her throat.
“This isn’t funny.” Her grandmother again. And she sounded furious. “Do you have any idea…? You could have died.”
Warmth flowed into Bryn’s veins; she recognized the Quintessence at work. The fog in her brain cleared a bit.
“That’s better.” She focused on her grandmother. “Who attacked me?”
“No one attacked you, you fool. You flew onto the estate, unannounced, and set off the new security system,” a male voice said.
Oh, hell. She recognized that voice. “Screw you, Ferrin.” Seemed like the least offensive answer she could come up with.
“Leave this room,” her grandmother said.
“What? I don’t think I can walk.”
“Not you, Bryn. You won’t be going anywhere for a long time. You’re grounded. Ferrin Westgate, leave this room before I have you escorted out.”
Bryn giggled. “My grandmother is a badass.”
Several people laughed. Bryn didn’t know if her grandmother was one of them. Warmth flowed through her body again, and she drifted off to sleep.
Sometime later, Bryn felt something wet on her forehead. Blinking, she opened her eyes. “What’s going on?”
“I’m trying to make you presentable,” her grandmother said. “You’re a mess.”
“I feel better.” And she did. Her vision had cleared, and the numbness from before had transformed into a mild headache.
“Do you feel good enough to answer some questions?”
“Sure.”
“Why were you flying hell-bent onto the estate like someone was chasing you?”
She told her grandmother about the two Black dragons she’d seen.
“Why did you take a chance flying alone at all? Why didn’t your knight escort you home?”
“Because his grandmother is an evil woman who makes disgusting cookies.” She relayed the events of the day, leaving out the part about the almost-kiss with Valmont.
“Not the day you’d hoped for, was it?” her grandmother said.
“No.” And then she remembered what day it was. “Sorry about ruining Christmas dinner.”
“We can have Christmas dinner tomorrow night.”
Bryn’s stomach growled as if to protest that statement.
Her grandmother laughed. “Or we could have dinner now, if you like.”
Food sounded good, but showering and dressing in real clothes did not. “Can we have Abigail bring food here? I don’t know if I’m up for the hike to the dining room.”
“Of course.” Her grandmother reached for the phone on Bryn’s nightstand and called someone in the kitchen. Once that was taken care of, she eyed Bryn and shook her head. “If you ever go out flying alone again, I will wring your neck. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” Her face heated. “I wasn’t thinking clearly. I just wanted to come home.”
Her grandmother’s expression softened. “You don’t know how much it means to me to hear you call this your home.”
“Thanks, for everything.” Bryn didn’t know what else to say.
“We’re family. Remember, family always comes first.” She gave an evil grin. “If you want, I could have a health inspector shut Fonzoli’s down for a week or two.”
That was a terrible idea, but Bryn played along. “Tempting, but it would stress Valmont out as much as his grandmother, so we better not.”
Ten minutes later, Abigail showed up with a cart bearing turkey, ham, hot rolls, and all the food Bryn associated with Christmas. Half an hour later, she’d stuffed herself full and could barely keep her eyes open.
“Go to sleep.” Her grandmother leaned down and kissed her forehead.
Bryn drifted off with the sound of plates and cutlery being loaded onto the cart. That must be Abigail packing up the food. Her grandmother left the room. It occurred to her that the warm family she’d been searching for, the day she’d hoped for, had sort of come true right here.
…
Bryn opened her eyes and felt like she was swimming through fog. Why did she feel like hell? What day was it? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she felt gritty and her teeth felt furry and she wanted a shower right now.
Off with the covers, and holy crap. Bright pink lines ran up and down both her legs. Bright pink lines meant recently healed wounds. Her brain sputtered and choked and then it hit her. The new security system. The net. She traced her pointer finger down the line that cut across her thigh and then down another one that ran the length of her calf. They would fade, with time. If she focused her Quintessence she could probably make them disappear, or at least make them a lighter color. Maybe later. She pushed to the side of the bed and sat up. Bracing herself, she rose to her feet and tested her legs. They held her weight. She was stiff, but that was about it. Thank God for medics, or she probably wouldn’t be here.
She padded barefoot across the warm wooden floor to the bathroom, where she stripped off her clothes and tossed them in the trash. Avoiding catching sight of herself in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door, she climbed in the shower and blissed out under the hot water. When her fingers were pruney, she exited the shower and dried off with a thick fluffy white towel, the kind she imagined they had at luxury hotels. Not that she’d ever been to a luxury hotel, but she’d seen hotel bathrooms in movies.
Dressed in her blue bra and underwear decorated with goldfish, she checked herself out in the mirror. Her animal-themed underwear normally made her smile, but the bright pink lines wrapping all the way around her body drained any humor from her brain. Water flooded her mouth and prickly heat broke out on her skin. She leaned against the cool marble of the sink and took a few slow breaths. She’d almost died. And she had no one to blame but herself. The nets. The feeling of terror…the panic she felt when the nets tightened…no one deserved that.
She splashed her face with cold water. Best not to think about that right now. Time to dress and head down to breakfast.
Her closet held a surprise. Next to the standard skirts and blouses she had to wear to school and the jeans and T-shirts she wore in her room and on the weekends, new clothes hung. To say the new clothes made her old clothes look like dirt was an understatement.
She pulled a black turtleneck dress made of the softest material she’d ever felt off the hanger and over her head. It settled against her skin like a cloud, making her smile. It felt like she was wearing a hug. Underneath where the dress had hung was a large shoebox. Inside, she found black leather boots that came up to the hem of the dress. She checked the mirror. For someone who’d almost been sliced and diced less than twenty-four hours ago, she looked awesome. Who knew clothes could make you feel this good?
She focused on her life force, directing a small amount of quintessence to darken her lips a shade and add some color to her cheeks. The black dress just begged for a black stripe in her hair. She missed her tricolored locks. The dark golden blond her grandmother had suggested with the single inch-thick red stripe was pretty. She focused on a quarter-inch-wide section next to the red stripe and changed it to black. There. That looked good, and it wasn’t too obnoxious. Hopefully her grandmother would approve.
Where would her grandmother be? Rather than hunting through the house, she picked up the phone and asked Rindy. Armed with the information on her grandmother’s whereabouts, she headed for the atrium on the second floor.
Her grandparents sat on opposite sides of one of the square white wrought iron tables in center of the atrium, which was decorated with so many of her grandmother’s plants it looked like an indoor garden.
The heels of her boots clicked on the marble floor as she approached, causing both her grandparents to look up.
Her grandmother gave a nod of approval. “I knew that outfit would be perfect for you.”
A small glow of pride filled Bryn’s chest. Approval from her grandmother meant a lot. “Thank you for the clothes. I love this dress. It’s the softest thing I’ve ever worn.”
“Of course it’s soft, it’s cashmere.” Her grandmother grinned. “One of the reasons I love winter is you can wear cashmere as often as you want.”
Bryn took a seat on an empty side of the square table. “I was never a sweater person, but this may change my mind.” She picked up a white china pot that sat in the center of the table and poured herself what she thought was a cup of coffee. The brown liquid that came out was too light in color.
“What is this?”
“It’s tea,” her grandfather stated in an annoyed tone.
“Why is it tea?” She meant it as a joke, sort of. Tea was good, but it lacked the amount of caffeine she craved first thing in the morning.
Her grandfather folded his paper in half and laid it beside his plate. “You don’t like tea?”
“I do.” And apparently she needed to this morning, because her grandfather wasn’t a happy camper. “I normally have coffee at breakfast and tea later in the day, that’s all. No big deal.” She could just drink twice as much tea to make up for the caffeine.
Abigail appeared by Bryn’s shoulder and set a plate of pancakes on her place mat. “Thank you. These look wonderful.” The maple syrup scent had her stomach rumbling. She grabbed a fork and dug in. The pancakes were maple syrup, butter-coated carbohydrate joy.
Focused on inhaling her pancakes, it took a moment for her to realize that neither of her grandparents was speaking. She stopped midchew and noticed the expectant look on both their faces. She swallowed and wiped her mouth just in case she had maple syrup dribbling down her chin.
“Sorry, did you say something?”
“I asked why you felt the need to add another color to your hair?” her grandfather said.
This was about her hair? What was the big deal? “It matches my dress.” No need to go into the story of how Clint and Ivy had first approached her due to her striped hair, which resembled something a Black dragon might do. It had provided her with something in common with their Clan. She didn’t want to give that up completely for fear her friends would think she’d forgotten them or moved on.
“So if your dress were purple, you’d have a purple streak?” her grandfather snapped.
It was almost like he was trying to pick a fight. Bryn caught her grandmother’s gaze and saw the slight shake of her head. Was this a test?
“When I first came to school, I added black stripes to my blond-and-red-striped hair because I liked the way it looked. Now it doesn’t look right without a little bit of black.” Maybe he’d buy that answer and leave her alone.
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t experiment with your coloring any more. Unlike your Black dragon friends, it’s not something Blue dragons do. We’re proud of who we are. Changing your appearance signals you might not feel the same way.”
Wow. What was his problem? She could see by the lines around her grandmother’s mouth that she was worried this conversation was about to turn ugly.
Sitting back in her chair, Bryn crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not sure what you’re fishing for. Are you asking if I’m proud of my heritage? Are you testing me to see if you can start a fight? Are you pissed off because of what happened last night? Give me a clue and we can head in the right direction.”
Her grandmother turned away, looking like she was trying not to say something, or maybe trying not to laugh. At this point it was anyone’s guess.
Narrowing his eyes, her grandfather said, “You want the direct approach, fine. I don’t like the black stripe in your hair. The red stripe is bad enough, but I’m willing to tolerate it. The black stripe must go.”
Taking orders had never been her strong suit. “I don’t suppose you’d consider asking nicely?”
He leaned forward in a menacing manner. “This is my version of asking nicely.”
Laughter was the only way to save face. So she laughed and was relieved when he joined in. Then she closed her eyes, focused her Quintessence and changed the black stripe in her hair back to golden blond. “There, does that meet with your approval?”
“Yes.” He picked up his paper, snapped it open, and effectively ended their conversation.
Bryn shot her grandmother a sideways glance. “Anything you’d like to get off your chest about my appearance?”
“I want to burn all of your jeans,” her grandmother said. “But I won’t. I figure if I restock your wardrobe with beautiful alternatives such as this dress, you won’t want to wear them anymore.”
“Good plan.” Bryn poured more syrup on her pancakes. “Not sure it will work, but it’s a good plan.”
“Oh, I didn’t meant to interrupt breakfast,” a feminine voice said.
Bryn glanced up. Lillith came toward them, practically glowing with maternal warmth. Jaxon followed along behind her, his eyes scanning the room like he was checking for something to use as a weapon.
“We were having a late brunch.” Her grandfather stood, folding his paper and placing it under his arm. “Why don’t you join Bryn and Marie?”
“We’re not chasing you off, are we?” Lillith asked.
“No. I was on my way out.” He turned to Jaxon. “Would you like to join me in my law library? I’m drafting a new writ. It would be a good learning experience for you.”
Jaxon’s chest puffed out with pride. “Thank you, sir. I would be honored to join you.”
When had he turned into such a suck-up? And why were Lillith and her grandmother exchanging knowing glances?
Once the males were out of hearing range, Bryn said, “What was that about?”
Lillith poured herself a cup of tea. “That was your grandfather showing his approval of Jaxon as a future Directorate member.”
“I thought Jaxon was automatically on the Directorate since his dad is speaker.”
“Your grandfather’s approval is what’s important.” Lillith placed her hand over the tiny baby bump that was starting to show and sipped her tea in utter contentment.
“It means the alliance between our families is growing stronger.” Her grandmother looked quite pleased with the situation.
Oh, hell. It meant she was one step closer to a marriage contract with Jaxon. She shoved her plate aside and laid her head on the table. Knowing her grandmother would only lecture her if she verbally objected, she decided body language showing abject frustration would have to do.
“Personality-wise, Jaxon is one of the more considerate Blue males,” Lillith said.
Bryn lifted her head. “That isn’t saying much.” Sitting up, she asked the question she couldn’t ask in public or in front of her grandfather. “Don’t get mad at me, but why are the Blue males so crabby, and why do the women of this Clan put up with so much crap from them?”