Chapter 35
Xander
“Did you get them?” I stare down Bash, who’s slung himself lazily in a club chair. I only have a few minutes until Dahlia is out of the shower.
Bash smirks.
“Do not fuck around right now.” I hold out my hand.
“Jeez.” He places two tickets in my palm. “You know how hard it was to get those? You owe me, buddy.”
“I’m sure you’ll come up with something.”
His smile widens, and I suddenly really don’t want to know.
“Just send me the bill.”
“Are you kidding me? I already did. It went right to your accountant.”
Good. I don’t want anybody but me to be the one who buys this for her.
“You look good. Maybe even refreshed?” Bash pries with the subtlety of an elephant.
A door clicks open upstairs. “Get out of here.”
His jaw drops open, eyes wide. “Oh, come on! Don’t tell me you’re not going to let me meet her.”
I flatten my expression.
“Damon and Misty got to meet her. Aren’t I your favorite brother?”
“I’d say let would be a stretch. And if you don’t move your ass, you’ll be my favorite ex-brother.”
“Have you told her about the Order of Saints?”
I look away, sucking on my teeth.
“You better get on that.” Bash laughs.
“Xander?” Dahlia’s voice travels down the stairs.
“Get. Out,” I growl.
“Okay, okay. I’m leaving.” Bash raises his hands in front of him in surrender, giving me a mischievous grin. “But Xander, if you don’t bring her to meet us in the next few days, you’ll have all the company you’ll ever need.”
It’s not the threat he thinks it is. It’s been too long since I’ve seen my nieces and nephews. But that doesn’t mean I want the whole family to crash in here. Baby steps. I need to coax Dahlia some more before I dunk her into the deep end that is the Everette family.
“Am I interrupting you?” Dahlia’s standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking between us, cunning eyes taking in the situation. Her head tilts. “Brother?”
“Hi, I’m Bash.” He practically skips to her.
“I’m Dahlia.” Her gaze flicks to me, then back to him, a warm smile on her lips.
I dig my fingers into the back of my neck, hard.
“Oh, I know. Xander here’s been keeping you all to himself.”
“And I’m going to keep doing that, and unless you want your kids to grow up without a father, you’re going to get the hell out of here.”
“Xander!”
Damn it. I’m not going to threaten people while she’s around.
“I’m his favorite brother. Must have told you all about me.”
Her mouth opens and then closes, the pause awkwardly long. She turns to me as if demanding I say something, but I have zero desire to fix this.
“You know, that really hurts. Here I am, your youngest brother. Thick as thieves our entire childhood, and you don’t even tell her anything about me?” He feigns hurt, and I’m seconds from slapping him on the back of the head.
“And you’re just as annoying as you were then.”
“Oh, I see. If you’re gonna be like that…”
The gleam in his eyes has the hair on the back of my neck standing up. From years of experience, I know nothing good can come from that look.
Bash wraps an arm around a stiff Dahlia’s shoulder and smirks.
“If he didn’t tell you about me, did he at least tell you about the Order of Saints?
” He leans in like he’s saying a secret.
“Secret societies and espionage, the whole shebang! You know, he’s a pretty big deal.
One of the leaders, Lords, aka the leader. ”
“Bash.” It comes out as a low warning, but the damage is already done.
Dahlia stares right at me, arms crossed over her chest. “No, he left that part out. Why don’t you fill me in?”
“Gladly,” Bash says, practically fucking giddy.
“You won’t survive what I’m going to do to you.” I growl out the promise.
He backs away from my wife, both hands up. His movements are slow, and he never looks away from me.
“I can take a hint. See you soon, Dahlia.” He practically flees, ignoring Dahlia when she calls for him to wait.
Then her hard gaze lands on me. I freeze in place, instantly going from predator to prey. She hasn’t looked at me like that in weeks.
That bastard, stirring up shit, then leaving me hanging, perfectly maintaining his little brother status.
“I promise I was going to explain everything.” I keep my voice soft, doing my best to recover this situation without pissing her off even more. “The timing just hasn’t been right.”
Her mouth curves into a sharp smile as she steps closer. “Timing? You mean in the weeks I’ve been here, you couldn’t find a single moment to tell me the truth?”
I hold her gaze, steady. “In fairness, you were already pissed at me. I didn’t see the point in handing you another reason.”
Her brow lifts, voice low and sharp. “How’s that working out for you?”
Not fucking well.
Silence drags while I figure out where to start. She’s toe-to-toe with me now, chin tipped up, daring me to dig my own grave. I don’t tell her that her angry face is unfairly cute.
“It’s not easy to explain.”
She crosses her arms. “Then skip the speech. Give me the CliffsNotes. You’re the leader of a secret society…or did I dream that part?”
“One of the leaders,” I say. “Technically, Damon’s the one in charge.”
Her mouth twists. “Lucky him. Go on.”
“It’s not like we chose to be Lords. It was more like an inheritance. We were the automatic successors when my dad died.”
For the first time, her gaze softens. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry about what?”
“Your dad passing.”
“Oh no, he was a bastard. We’re all better off with him dead.”
She drags a hand down her face, fingers pressing into her temples in slow circles. “That’s a lot of trauma to unpack.”
Normally, I’d stop the conversation before it got this far. I’ve never talked about this with anyone, but Dahlia’s different. I want her to know every side of me.
“I’ll do that with you.” I run my thumb along her cheekbone. “But it’s going to take a while, so if I’m going to explain the Order of Saints, we’ll have to table it for now.”
“I’m gonna hold you to that. No more secrets. Remember?”
No more secrets.
“It’s easier to just show you.” I hold out my hand to her. My stomach twists when she takes it. I can’t shake the fear of losing her.
I guide her through the mazelike halls of the old house until we stand in front of a steel door that stands out in the otherwise ornate hall. The black pad on the left lights up when I place my palm on it and lets out three quick beeps, followed by a mechanical sound of the dead bolt retreating.
Dahlia’s hand squeezes mine. “What the actual hell, Xander?”
“It’s really not that bad.”
“You have presidential-level security, and you’re telling me it’s not that bad?” Her eyes glint with curiosity as she tries to peek through the crack.
“Okay, maybe it is that bad.” I huff out a quiet laugh, shrug, and push the door open.
Over the years, the room’s turned into a catch-all.
Dahlia releases my hand and spins slowly, taking everything in. She doesn’t speak, just drifts farther inside. When she reaches the row of portraits, she tilts her head. “Your family?”
“Yes. My father’s side.”
She hums and moves on, pausing at the glass display case. “Are these real?”
Generations of family jewels rest on dark velvet. Diamond tiaras, gold crests, gems the size of eggs. The display looks like it was stolen from a palace. I debate whether now’s the time to tell her we have more money than royalty.
“So you’re really rich.” Her voice carries a mix of awe and disbelief. “Obscenely rich?”
“We…We are obscenely rich.”
Her head snaps up, face going white. Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. I redirect the conversation, opening a drawer and pulling out my gold Wolf mask.
As the four Lords of the Order of Saints, my brother and I wear gold wolf masks. The Saints beneath us wear silver. She runs her fingers over the heavy fabric of my robe.
“We use them for ceremonies,” I tell her.
I’m not sure what I expected, but it’s definitely not her giggling. Her shoulders begin to shake as she tries to keep it together.
“What’s so funny?”
“I’m just picturing a bunch of grown men dressed up in the rich-people equivalent of Halloween costumes, acting out ceremonies. You gotta admit, it’s kinda silly. “
“You just reduced hundreds of years of tradition to something silly?”
The tightness in my chest finally eases, and I can breathe again. Of all the reactions I imagined, this wasn’t one of them, but it’s exactly what I should have expected from her.
“Do you like memorizing scripts?” she teases, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. All I can think about is how damn good she makes me feel.
I grab her and pull her in, tickling until she’s laughing so hard she can’t catch her air.
“Say mercy.”
“Mercy, mercy, mercy.” She leans against a table, chest rising fast, eyes bright with laughter. “Big scary Lord, always gets what he wants.”
I huff, letting her go. “Not recently.”
Her eyes find mine, and the teasing fades into something heavier. The light in them shifts, pupils wide, hunger written all over her face. The air tightens, charged as her gaze drifts down my chest.
She lifts the mask into place, lips curling as her tongue traces the edge of her mouth.
My pulse slams against my ribs. Each button she undoes feels deliberate, skin appearing in slow, torturous inches.
By the time her blouse slips off her shoulder, she’s bare, breathtaking, and she’s taken my every thought with it.
She moves with an ease that wrecks me. Every motion is calculated, drawn out just enough to make me ache. She shimmies out of her pants, and they pool on the floor. Black lace hugs her hips, thin straps disappearing against skin that begs to be touched.
She leans back on the table, a quiet invitation that hits like a punch. Her body is flushed, curves soft and full, every small movement pulling my focus tighter. My mouth goes dry. My dick twitches as her nipples harden beneath my gaze, and all I can think about is getting my hands on her.
Mask still covering half her face, she tilts her head, and I take it as permission.