5. Xander
Chapter 5
Xander
Nothing Else Matters – Luka Sulic ft Evgeny Genchev
I wake up the next morning with a blaring headache. A smart rap on my door tells me Olly is waiting outside. I mentally unlock the door, and it releases its magic with a soft hum, giving silent permission for the human butler to enter.
He does so with bustling purpose, bowing as he steps inside, his heart beat like a trotting pony. “Good morning, my lord.”
Pushing back my black sheet—a much finer sort compared to Animus Academy’s cheap linens—I sit on the edge of my bed as Olly opens the heavy maroon drapes. Sharp light fills the room, and I refrain from rubbing my temples.
“There is much on the agenda today, my lord,” Olly prattles. “Will it be a bath this morning, or will a shower suffice?”
A muffled snort comes from the cage against the wall. Rising to my feet, I stretch out my back. I missed my old bed, luxurious and velvet soft, but it will take some getting used to after the wooden slab that was the academy’s mattress. I’d slept well after an hour of waiting for my own adrenaline to subside. The old noises of the house took a while to adjust to—the creaking, the wood settling, the low hum of other heartbeats—and worst of all, the sound of Spawn tossing and turning and huffing.
“I don’t want to waste any time,” I say to Olly, who is now holding out my towel in one hand and a tablet in the other. “Email me my agenda and do that every morning from now on.”
I don’t miss the curious glance Olly runs down my bare torso, his human pupils dilating with instinctual awe. He hasn’t seen me since I was fifteen, when I was more like a string bean. I’m a man grown now, and I know what difference that will make in this household.
“Apologies, my lord.” Olly bows again. “And your father has requested family breakfast this morning.”
Well, that’s certainly new. Olly smiles at me awkwardly as I take the fluffy white towel from him.
“I will brief you after you are refreshed, my lord.” His brown simple human eyes slide towards the cage. “And should I take your…pet outside for the loo?”
Irritation sweeps through me like a sneeze. “No. It’ll use the bathroom after me.”
Another noise emits from the cage, but I ignore it, and wisely, so does Olly.
After brushing my teeth and showering, I check in with my dragon. He’s still out like a light, in the same position as before, curled in on himself, a crease between his black brows. Smoke suddenly fills the bathroom, and the automatic air vents turn on, sucking up my anger.
Upon my return, Heather has appeared and replaced the sheets on my bed. Olly has laid out my clothes, and Heather is presently opening a small closet, hidden in the wood panelling in the corner of the room. She takes out a plain, floor length black dress. It’s a simply made cotton and spandex blend with a round neck and wrist-length sleeves. In her other hand, she holds a pair of black ballet flats.
I frown and finally turn to look at the covered cage against the wall of the room. With a huff, I lean down and flip up the front flap of the blackout material.
Spawn is already sitting in its cage, glaring at me with bleary blue eyes, her inky hair like a tangled bird’s nest, the blue gown from last night like a deflated balloon around her. Her scent strikes me across the nose, sour sweat over her natural, heady scent.
It shouldn’t affect me the same way it used to. I sniff delicately, checking for the difference. Sweet, feminine, but not maddening. Not dangerous. Not even pleasing.
“Brush your hair,” I snap as I unlock the cage door, “And shower. I won’t have you embarrassing me with a foul appearance or smell.”
“Of course,” she mutters. “We can’t have that.”
Only she could be locked in a crate all night and still have so much attitude left. She crawls out and accepts the clothes Heather gives her. The maid ushers her into the bathroom with a wrinkled nose, as if Spawn is a mud-splattered dog that just trotted in from outside.
I don’t know what I expected to feel when I formally broke the mating bond. But the vision of the mating mark fading from her neck was nothing but sheer and utter relief. Something inside of me has definitely eased. Calmed. Soothed.
Freedom is a fresh, cool breeze through my body, and as Olly holds up a black business shirt for me to wear, I allow myself a tiny smile.
Fifteen minutes later, Heather and Spawn exit my bathroom. Her hair is thankfully brushed and tied back from her face, and that black dress?—
I huff in irritation. Heather has chosen the wrong size because the material wantonly clings to Spawn’s snake-curves before it falls to the floor. The round neck shows her collarbones before cupping her breasts like two delicate hands.
She looks sort of grey behind her olive skin. But I’ve forgotten something—that’s not my problem anymore. None of this is my problem at all. There’s a whole team of serpents who are being paid to be interested in her bodily health.
So I simply extract the dragon chain from the gold bangle around my wrist and flick it in her direction. Under dragon telekinesis, it clips itself to the collar.
She flinches from the pressure but averts her eyes, choosing to scowl at the floor instead.
Hatred curls my lip as I look upon her. “Not a single word at breakfast, or I will muzzle and gag you.”
Her slender jaw clenches under her own malice as those blue jewels glitter in annoyance. But she says nothing.
Breakfast is being served in the lesser dining room this morning. It’s my father’s— our less formal dining area that we reserve just for close family. So no serpents or other unwanted residents of the estate will be joining us.
Nerves bounce in my stomach as I anticipate who will meet me there. I impatiently pull Spawn along behind me, then completely forget about her as I reach the set of golden doors that will lead me to the one thing I’ve spent years yearning for.
No more secret visits to Sissy or the hatchlings. No more sneaking about at night. I am allowed to be here. Allowed to greet my family as one of them.
Voices trickle through the small open gap between the doors. The excited, high pitch of my niece and nephew, and the deeper, more reserved feminine voice of?—
“Mother?” The word slips out of my mouth as I step into the room. It sounds disbelieving even to me. Golden morning light fills the space, as intended by the architecture. It could be heaven, for all I know of it, to see my entire family, my entire world, sitting at that dining table.
“Uncle Xander! Uncle Xander!” shriek both hatchlings, their napkins tumbling to the floor as they hurtle towards me at full speed.
“Hello,” I chuckle, reaching down to ruffle their dark locks as they cling to my legs, peering up at me with wide eyes and grinning faces.
“Mother says you’re going to be here all the time now!” Emmerson shouts, fist pumping the air.
“We can play in the backyard!” Delilah squeals, pressing her cheek to my leg and squeezing her eyes shut.
“Come back here, you two.” Sissy’s voice is low and disapproving where she sits on the far side of the long dining table. She doesn’t look at me as the hatchlings obediently run back to their seats, but I can’t think on that now as I focus on the person whose very memory has the strength to make my bones shatter.
The person I’ve not seen since the fateful day I left this house.
Adjacent to the hatchlings, rising from her seat at the end of the table, is my mother.
She looks more frail than the last time I saw her. Her long, graceful figure is adorned in a heavy velvet green dress that seems to weigh down her ballerina’s frame. Her face is pale white with perfectly applied makeup, the blush doing the heavy lifting to brighten her appearance.
“Xander!” Mother chimes. Her hands sweep outward immediately, welcoming me in. Welcoming me home. Something in my chest explodes in a shower of gold as I stride towards her and take her into my arms.
She rests her head on my chest, holding me tightly as I hold her back, kissing the top of her dark hair, the length of it neatly coiled into a bun at the nape of her neck.
“How I have missed you,” she sighs.
I swallow. “I’ve missed you too.”
A vibration courses through her body.
“Are you cold?” I ask, drawing back to feel her forehead with the back of my fingers.
“Always worrying over me,” she smiles indulgently. “My handsome boy.”
“He’s not a boy,” comes a deep voice from over my shoulder. “And your doting will spoil him yet again.”
The spark in my mother’s green eyes fades just a hint and she averts her gaze down. I’d shared those eyes with her once. Her hand takes mine as she guides me to the seat adjacent to hers.
“Good morning, Father,” I say mildly.
“Good morning, Heir,” he says formally, sweeping his long burgundy jacket aside as he takes a seat at the head of the table.
I also take mine, but not before snapping my wrist to retract the golden chain from Spawn. I jerk my chin at the right-hand corner of the room. “Sit over there.”