Chapter 3
Ihead downstairs to greet our guests, giving Elly the time she needs to prepare.
It allows me to calm down after my little outburst. I spoke the truth, but I could have worded it better.
So much hard work went into finding a way to make a human inhuman, ensuring that the magic of the prison would see them as neither.
Though I didn’t intend to hide the mostly gory details of the procedure, perhaps I should have been more forthcoming.
Maybe I should tell her how I suspect this bond between us is why she adapted so well to it.
My steps falter near the bottom of the stairs. Telling her might lead to confessing how powerful this bond is and what it means to me. I’m not sure if I’m ready for that yet, even if the thought makes a soft smile play on my lips.
As I take the last steps, it crosses my mind that I should have informed her this dinner is more than just a social gathering.
The family has managed my affairs for centuries, but lately, I’ve sensed a troubling laxity in how they handle their duties.
Too many things have gone awry within the company.
What began as small, inconsequential issues has escalated into something potentially harmful.
I hope tonight will provide clarity. I’d rather not dig around, especially since my gut tells me they might be involved—a problem in itself.
After generations of service, it might finally be time for me to reclaim control.
Yet, dismissing them without solid proof could lead to unnecessary complications for all parties involved.
With a bit of luck, tonight will illuminate the situation.
After all, I’d prefer to see them off to early retirement rather than an early grave.
I open the door to find Thomas and his wife, Isabella, waiting.
It’s been a few years since we last met in person, and they’ve both aged considerably.
Thomas’s dark hair is now peppered with gray, but his blue eyes remain as attentive and piercing as ever.
He wears a dark gray suit and tie, the left lapel of his vest adorned with a silver pin depicting a snake coiled around a moon.
Isabella, having married into the family, carries herself like the woman of high standing she is.
Her family amassed wealth through generations of trading with inhumans.
Her wavy golden-blonde hair cascades halfway down her back, and her bright hazelnut-colored eyes assess me with the uncertainty I’ve come to expect from her—she doesn’t like me.
She wears a short black dress that ends above her knees and sleek black pumps.
An antique golden medallion rests around her neck, its chain matching the intricate designs engraved on a fine bracelet adorning her left wrist—oddly familiar to me.
“Lord Deimos,” Thomas booms, a wide smile breaking across his face. “How lovely of you to invite us over so shortly after your return.”
I return his smile and shake his hand. He presents me with a bottle of wine, which I accept with a nod. “Thomas, I’m glad you and your family could make it on such short notice.”
“Nonsense,” he replies as he steps inside. “We wouldn’t dare miss it.”
He jests, but we both know refusing me is never an option—not without a valid reason. And no reason is valid when it comes to tonight, as he’s well aware.
“Lord Deimos,” Isabella says with a playful but insincere smile. “It’s great to see you again.”
Isabella gestures behind her, and her son steps forward. William, dressed in a black suit, has inherited his father’s blue eyes and his mother’s blond hair. He’s grown since I last saw him—he was only a toddler then.
“William,” I say, shaking his hand and sensing the nerves radiating from him. “Thank you for helping my wife out the other day.” I genuinely mean it. There’s something about how he carries himself that makes me like him more than both his parents.
He smiles, his eyes lighting up with joy. “The pleasure is all mine, Lord Deimos.”
Once all three of them are settled in the hallway, I close the door and guide them to the living room.
They take their seats on the sofas, and I swap the wine bottle for a bottle of champagne I purchased for the occasion—human traditions and all.
I find them meaningless but have learned they ease tensions.
With a soft pop, I uncork the bottle, noting the nervousness beginning to fill the air. It’s why I ensured an abundance of alcohol was ready—to soothe those sensitive human nerves. I pour the champagne into crystal flutes and hand them out with a smile.
Just as I prepare to take a seat with them, Elly enters the living room. Her dress hits mid-calf, with a corset on top and a bolero to complete the outfit. She has put effort into her makeup; her mismatched eyes pop beautifully, and her lips are painted a shade of red reminiscent of blood.
She looks stunning—more so than usual.
“Ah, there she is.” I rise from my seat, and our guests follow suit. “My lovely wife, Aeliana.”
I gesture for her to come over, and, blushing slightly, she obliges. I pull her into my arms, placing a soft peck on her cheek. The scent of vanilla and lavender envelops me, almost making me groan.
Turning her around with one hand on her waist, I introduce her to our guests.
“This is Thomas, the current head of the family.” I emphasize “current” to gauge his reaction. He doesn’t disappoint. His nostrils flare, and anger flickers in his eyes before he schools his features. I notice Elly tense beside me.
Thomas recovers quickly, taking her hand. “Enchanté, my lady,” he says, placing a chaste kiss on the top of her hand before releasing her.
I gesture to Isabella. “His beautiful wife, Isabella.”
Isabella gives a brief but polite curtsy, which Elly returns.
“And this is their son William, whom you’ve already met.”
William smiles at her broadly, his eyes beaming with genuine happiness. “A pleasure, once more, Lady Deimos.”
Elly returns his smile, equally sincere, and I can’t help but hold her a little tighter—which earns me a frown.
We’re barely out for a day, and I’m already starting to feel possessive of her.
It doesn’t surprise me, not really, since I tend to be possessive with what’s mine.
I just didn’t expect it to happen this quickly.
“Perhaps a toast?” Thomas raises his glass. His voice sounds confident, but a tinge of fear lingers beneath.
Thomas raises his glass, and William hands one to Elly as we all follow his lead.
“To our lord and his lady”—Thomas nods at Elly—“finally among us. We are yours to serve eternally. Blood of your blood.”
We all take a sip, and as we prepare to sit down, Elly extends her glass toward me. “We’re a chair short; I’ll fetch one from the dining room.”
Without a word, I loop my arm around her waist and swiftly pull her down onto my lap. She lets out a small yelp, miraculously not spilling a drop of her champagne. Thomas chuckles, earning a stern look from Isabella, which makes him swallow whatever he was about to say.
“I should get a chair,” she whispers, her earlier blush returning full force.
“You don’t have to,” I whisper back, running my nose along her jaw. “I like you right here,” I add quietly, ensuring only she can hear it.
I adjust her weight on my lap, grinning at her. Elly offers me a hesitant smile, and I lean in for another soft kiss. She melts against me, some of her unease dissipating. She has no idea how to act around them, and it’s adorable.
Leaning back in my chair with a smirk, I take a sip from my glass.
Conversation begins to flow, but I can’t stop touching her.
My thumb sneaks to the sleeve of her bolero, tracing soft circles on the bare skin I find there.
Elly leans into my touch, goosebumps rising wherever my fingers graze her arm.
My magic swirls around the family, undetected. It tells me Thomas remains nervous, borderline fearful, throughout the conversation.
William is relaxed, laughing and joking with Elly. My magic brushes over him, catching on something there and gone again when I try to look deeper. My gaze lingers on him for a moment longer before I brush it off.
Isabella, on the other hand, intrigues me. She’s completely unreadable; not even my magic can penetrate her. Her heartbeat is steady, but I would almost think her dead inside.
After a while, Elly shifts in my lap while keeping up the conversation with William.
I’m reminded of how she used to wiggle when working on her spells, and I instantly regret not letting her get her own chair.
My magic gently brushes against hers, and I lean into her, placing my chin on her shoulder.
“Elly, love,” I murmur into her hair while my fingers dig into her arm. “Behave.”
I lean back in my seat, and she gives me a mischievous look. The corner of her lip tips up slightly.
She’s doing this on purpose. Is this her way of getting back at me for earlier in the bedroom?
I let my magic run like sharp nails down her back, making it sting slightly so she can consider herself warned.
Her smile falters for a moment, but then it only grows bolder.
If it wasn’t purposeful before, it is most definitely now.
My arousal begins to harden in my slacks as she subtly wiggles some more, and just as I raise my glass to take another sip, she firmly pushes her ass back against my erection.
Her boldness catches me off guard, and I almost choke on my drink.
Thomas and Isabella look at me in confusion when I start to cough. Both of them sit in front of Elly and me, so they’re none the wiser. William, though, sits next to us, and the way his eyes widen tells me he knows exactly what just happened.
“Now that I’m done almost dying”—I laugh once I get through my coughing fit, breaking the awkward tension in the room—“how about we get to dinner?”