Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Abydos
My hands did not shake as I put the SUV in park in front of my twin brother’s house, and if they had, it wouldn’t be because of something stupid like nervousness. But I did roll my shoulders and tip my head from side to side, hoping to loosen the tight muscles across my shoulders and back.
“Boss? Abydos, are you still there?”
I grunted, hoping Sylvik hadn’t asked anything important. “Sorry. Thinking about tonight.”
“Tonight?” The other male sounded surprised. “You’re doing something for Halloween? I mean, Bramblewood is going all out as usual, but does Eastshore have festivities?”
The question distracted me. Sylvik sounded genuinely curious. Come to think of it, Garrak had been the same way. Was it possible there were other orcs out in Colorado who were interested in Eastshore?
But since my assistant was waiting, I just hummed in agreement. “Apparently. Aswan texted me earlier today that he was expecting me for dinner. The bkarn has been in the smoker since yesterday.”
“Oh Malla the Beginner, I do miss your brother’s bkarn. Has he started a new restaurant out there?”
“No, he has his hands full with the kitlings.” Kitlings I’d agreed to spend the evening with, by accepting the dinner invitation. “My new chef is just as good though, so I’m not deprived.”
“Ah. Does this mean you’ve forgiven me for that little fuck-up?” Sylvik sounded hopeful, and I had to snort.
“I suppose so. She might be human, but she seems to understand the importance of cheese. And she’s…decorated the place. For fall.”
“Uh…and are you okay with that?”
I was surprised to discover I didn’t mind it. Besides, she hadn’t got all humany with the spooky Halloween decorations; her work had been limited to a few leaf garlands and pumpkins and some scented candles.
I’d thrown away the cinnamon candle, but I hadn’t told her why.
“It doesn’t completely suck. Feels like nature on the inside of the house.” Yeah, that was it. “And she’s been making autumnal foods. I’d forgotten how many types of soups there were.”
“She sounds perfect, Abydos.”
Yeah, there were plenty of other reasons for me to be grateful Riven had come into my life.
Closing my eyes, I tipped my head back against the seat and struggled to keep my Kteer—and cock—under control.
In the two days since she’d come apart in my arms, she’d avoided me.
I could smell her embarrassment and shame whenever we were in the same room, and while I didn’t want to discomfit her further, I wished I could find a way to tell her I didn’t regret that kiss… didn’t regret what we’d shared.
No. In fact, the memory of her arousal, the scent of her orgasm, kept me up until almost dawn the next day. I’d fucked my own hand twice, and it hadn’t helped to calm my Kteer. There’d been a million layers of clothing between us, and I could still feel her pulsing heat.
I groaned and scrubbed a hand over my face.
“Boss?”
Fuck me, I’d forgotten I was on a call with my assistant. I’d been distracted as shit the last few days, but at least I knew why. Walking on eggshells around my pretty little personal chef could do that.
“Take the rest of the day, Sylvik,” I told him firmly. “Go enjoy the Halloween festival.”
“…Are you sure you’re okay?” The other male sounded concerned. Well, why the hells wouldn’t he be? He’d spent years taking care of me, the same as Riven, and likely knew me better than I expected. “Giving me the evening off, visiting your brother, attending a festival…”
“I’m fine,” I growled, knowing he was teasing me. “I’m not attending. I’m just here for the bkarn.”
“Sure,” Sylvik teased. “Eat some for me. I’ll have your schedule for tomorrow waiting when you wake up. Have fun, Abydos. You deserve it.”
Did I?
If you wanted to have fun, you shouldn’t have given Riven the evening off when she asked for it.
My lips twitched, knowing damn well what kind of fun my Kteer would prefer. But she’d made it clear she’d been embarrassed by the whole encounter—likely because she woke up and realized who it was she was actually kissing—so I’d respected those boundaries.
Sylvik was waiting, so I sighed. “Yeah, okay,” I promised, knowing I’d do no such thing. “And Sylvik? Thanks.”
He made a little choking noise on the other end of the line, and I knew if he was going to respond, it’d be something snarky, so I punched the button to hang up before he could. And then I smirked just a little.
But I definitely wasn’t smirking when, after I knocked on Aswan’s door, it swung open to reveal chaos. “Hi, Uncle Abby-dos,” shouted nine-year-old Tova to be heard over her younger brother’s shrill screams. “Happy Halloween!”
Oh fuck me, the Abby-dos thing was sticking? “Happy Halloween,” I managed to mutter before Joshy gave a particularly loud holler and made a beeline toward me.
No, not toward me. Toward the open door.
Thinking only of the heavy traffic on the street out front, I snatched up the tiny body as he hurtled past me, then lifted him, still kicking, into the air.
“Fweeeedom!” Joshy bellowed, squirming enthusiastically. “Fweeeeedom!”
Half his face was painted blue, and as I held him at arms’ length, I could see he was wearing some sort of…kilt? Did toddlers wear kilts?
Tova kicked the door shut behind me. “Good catch. I accidentally gave him four of my Pixie Stix from the school party, and now he’s a little hyper.”
“Accidentally?” I muttered, turning the little body this way and that to try to figure out his costume. Was this the human tradition of trick-or-treating I’d heard about? “What is he supposed to be?”
“He’s supposed to be eating his supper,” came a new voice, and I breathed a sigh of relief when the kitling’s mother, Hannah, appeared from the kitchen.
“Thank you for wrangling him.” When she took Joshy from me, the boy seemed much larger in her arms, and she struggled to contain him.
She smiled at me in exasperation. “He’s William Wallace, and no, I don’t know why.
Ben is going through a history phase, and I suppose Joshy has been paying attention. Thank God he doesn’t have a sword.”
I glanced down at Tova, who was wearing a sparkly purple tutu and something pointy on her head while she grinned expectantly at me. Was I expected to continue this conversation? “And you are…a princess?” Wasn’t that something little human girls wanted to be?
But she giggled and spun in a circle. “No, silly! I’m a unicorn! Emmy is going to be a pink unicorn, and we’re going to skip down Main Street together!”
“That, or they’ll engage in epic battles with their horns.” My brother’s Mate tipped her head toward the back door. “Aswan is taking the meat out of the smoker. You’re both welcome to hide out on the back porch and eat until I wrangle these three into submission.”
“Fweeeedom!” screamed a kicking Joshy, and I nodded gratefully as I made my escape.
The back patio smelled fucking majestic, as a nodding Aswan coached his eldest kitling, eleven-year-old Ben, into easing a large haunch from the smoker.
“Good, good,” he was saying. “Place it gently on the table. You don’t want to jostle the juices.”
The boy snorted softly but kept his attention on the meat. “That sounds like something I might make a joke about, if I were older.”
My brother hummed. “And if you were older, I might laugh at that joke. Careful now.”
I might’ve been impressed by how well my twin had acclimated to fatherhood. I might’ve noted how he clapped his son’s shoulder proudly, or how the boy seemed to stand taller with pride from Aswan’s praise.
But I couldn’t tear my gaze away from Ben’s outfit.
“Is that another kilt?” I asked.
“Ah, you remember my brother,” Aswan announced with a smirk, gesturing toward me. “Subtle and polite, as always.”
I bristled, and to my surprise, felt the need to defend my words. Or rather…apologize? I was going to apologize to a human child for making him feel—
“It’s a loincloth,” Ben announced proudly, stretching his arms out and turning about so I could get the full effect of his gold-and-linen costume.
“I mean, not a real one, that’s why I’m wearing shorts under it.
But I designed it myself, and Aswan helped me glue all the gold beads to the chest plate, and just wait until you see the crown. ”
I met Aswan’s amused gaze. Clearly his son wasn’t at all offended by my question.
“You are…” I frowned at the boy, trying to remember the documentaries I’d seen in the last decade. “One of the Pharaohs from your ancient Egypt. Tutankhamun?”
“Close!” Ben bounced on his heels in excitement. “Akhenaten! He was the pharaoh who founded monotheism—he said Aten was the only true god—and changed a bunch of stuff. He was Tutankhamun’s dad!”
Impressed despite myself, I found my feet moving me closer to nod in approval. “I can see it’s well-researched.”
“Ben’s current obsession is ancient Egypt,” Aswan murmured, handing me a beer without asking. “I usually just smile and nod along.”
“You were the one to get me into it, Dad! I wanted to know what Aswan was.” The boy rounded on me. “I researched all his brothers. Did you know Abydos is like the most important burial site in Upper Egypt? It’s where all the early pharaohs were buried. It’s called the City of the Dead.”
I took a swig of beer, hoping Ben would move on. But when I lowered the bottle, he was still gazing up at me expectantly, so I muttered, “Seemed fitting at the time.”
It had been. When the scientists had given us new names, choosing ancient Egyptian archaeological sites as inspiration, I’d taken fierce pride in the name they’d chosen for me, seeing it as proof I’d returned from the dead.
But my twin muttered something under his breath, something that sounded like a curse, and I wondered if maybe that had been the wrong answer.