Chapter 74
SEVENTY-FOUR
LAUREL
“You’re in a good mood,” I said as Jule stepped past me into my bedroom.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” he said, handing me a bottle of wine. “Dear Old Dad’s out of town, so we’re free to get tipsy and pretty.”
“Pretty? Is there a special occasion?”
“Why does there need to be an occasion?” He had already crossed to my closet and was looking through my dresses. “I saw that Silverlight dress you got last month, and it was made for me, bitch.”
“I actually did get it for you,” I admitted. “There’s no way I’d pull it off.”
He beamed and threw his arms around me, squeezing me half to death. “Did I ever tell you you’re my second-favourite person?”
“Wait, what?” I said. “Who took my first-place spot?”
“That’s reserved for myself, of course,” he said with a smirk, turning back to the clothes.
Jule came out of the closet, carrying the dress and laying it on the bed with a happy sigh. “It’s perfect. Not too fancy or too casual,” he said, sitting next to it on the bed.
“Okay, do my face,” he said, and I settled in as I started his makeup. When we were done, he went into the bathroom to do his hair and put on the dress. “Oh, I have a present for you,” he sang. “Come over here.”
I stepped inside the bathroom, leaving the door open a bit to my bedroom. He unstrapped something from his leg, holding it out. It was a thigh holster, complete with a small pistol. I snatched it from his hands with a gasp.
“I love it,” I said, pulling it out to examine it.
“Now we’ll match,” he said brightly, showing me a similar one on his leg, though his held a blade instead of a gun. He showed me how to strap it against my thigh. It felt strange but comforting to have its weight against my skin.
He’d combed his hair back, creating a sleek look, and picked up the gown.
It was a simple dark blue dress with long sleeves.
The top was soft, and it had a cutaway waist, connecting the top and bottom with just a crisscross of fabric before flowing to a breezy skirt.
I helped Jule into it, and then we both examined him in the mirror.
His expression had settled into that happy, contented look he got when he actually got to dress how he wanted.
“I wish I had my ears pierced,” he said wistfully. “This dress is just begging for jewelry.”
“You look stunning,” I said, and he reached out and squeezed my hand. “We could get your ears pierced after we leave. It’ll be the first thing we do.”
“Yeah, right after my chest tattoo that says, Fuck my dad. Please.”
I burst into laughter, and he raised his eyebrows.
“I’m not joking.”
“Sure,” I replied. “Come on, let's go pick a necklace.”
We walked back into my bedroom, and I stopped. It was quiet in here now—I hadn’t remembered turning the radio off.
I heard Jule swallow beside me and turned to see my father standing up from my armchair. My blood turned to ice as I took a step backward. My eyes flicked toward the exit, but two of his men were standing by the door.
“I hope I’m not interrupting?” my father said, clasping his arms behind his back. “By all means, carry on with what you were doing. What was it, picking a necklace?”
Jule stood up straighter beside me, folding his arms, but it seemed not even he could come up with something to say. For one wild moment, I considered trying to get the gun now strapped to my thigh, but that would be suicide.
“You know,” my father said, “I was just coming to terms with the fact you’d be a beta. I thought maybe there would still be a place for you in this family. But if this is the kind of beta you are?” His lip curled in disgust as he looked Jule up and down. “I think not.”
“Father, please,” I said desperately. “We were drunk and messing around. It didn’t—”
“Silence,” my father hissed. “Did I ask for your input?”
I shook my head, tears stinging my eyes.
My father signalled his guards, and they stepped forward, binding Jule’s hands behind his back and forcing him to his knees.
“I knew you were weak, but I never in my wildest dreams would imagine my own flesh and blood to be this queer,” my father said.
Jule’s eyes flashed in anger. “Weak?” he said. “I’d knock you flat in a fair fight, if you didn’t hide behind muscled men and guns.”
He might, actually. He’d been training with Hugo since he was twelve and had a lot of lean muscle packed onto his frame. Hugo had even trained him on fighting alphas, giving him tips on his best chance against an aura.
“You want a fight?” Father said. “I’ll give you one last chance to claim your aura, boy. In Blood Court. You’ll come out the other side a proper alpha, or you’ll die as a weak beta. It’s a win-win for me either way.”