Chapter Eleven
Scott
What did George mean by ‘If you say so, hon’? Did he sound unconvinced about the meeting with his family? Was he passing along his own nerves about such an occasion?
“You do know I want you to meet my family? If you are picking up I’m nervous… it’s just… they can be a little… stuffy.” That word did not cover just how snobby his family was. Oh, to the demon gods, what was he playing at? This was going to be a disaster.
The meltdown over the things he’d bought and couldn’t quite figure out their placement didn’t appear to have fazed his bear, which was good. His demon was laughing its damn ass off over the pillow placements. Scott really couldn’t see what was so funny!
Now he was having another meltdown, like some kind of drama llama, only in demon form. What was George to think of him?
Large hands cupped his cheeks, and then all that he could do was feel. Heat and passion from George’s kiss didn’t allow anything else to filter past. He moaned low in his throat, and it rumbled out when George let go.
His gaze held Scott’s. “It’s gonna be alright. We go, we eat, you introduce me, then we leave.”
Was it really that simple? Scott had no evidence to suggest anything with his family was that simple, he just didn’t want to contradict his blissful one.
He reached for George’s hand and intertwined their fingers. “Let’s believe that.” He took a deep, George-scented breath, filling his lungs, and focused on what was important. “Have you ever translocated before?”
George gave him an intrigued look. “Nah, that’s not part of a shifter’s skill set.”
Squeezing the fingers, offering reassurance. “I tend not to do it often, but it’s the only way for us both to get to the demon realm. So just hold on to me, and maybe shut your eyes. Some have said the first time can be a little disorientating.”
“Good to know,” he muttered, shutting his eyes, looking sexy, though Scott had to agree with his demon, they much preferred their bear out of formal clothes—as in naked.
He took another breath and focused on where he wanted to go and a moment later, he was in his parent’s home, in his old bedroom, holding the gift he’d bought for his brother months ago.
“Is it safe to open my eyes?” George questioned.
Scott glanced around the dusty, box-ridden bedroom that his family used to store their junk in. That spoke volumes about how they thought of him. His brothers' rooms remained maintained for visits. “Yes,” he replied in a neutral tone. One that he’d become forced to use while in this house.
“Hardly felt a thing. A little zappy feeling over my body, but nothing bad. My bear wants to know can we do that to the forest if he’s in a rush?” A cheeky grin added to George’s attractiveness and gave Scott a little boost his demon was all for.
“We can do whatever your bear wants,” answered his demon side before Scott could form his own reply.
I would have said yes.
I was just making sure of it.
Scott resisted rolling his eyes at his demon, not wanting George to get the wrong impression.
“Your demon side has a very sexy voice.”
See, I’m his favorite.
He can’t have favorite’s, you idiot, as we are basically one.
I’m not anal retentive, and I take offense at you suggesting I would ever be like you! He shuddered hard enough that Scott had to hold on to the parcel in his hand.
“Please don’t encourage him,” Scott begged, keeping hold of George’s hand to head to the door, realizing the argument could continue for some time and then he’d get chastised for being late by his mother. Something he did not wish to subject his blissful one to, when she could resemble a harpy. “He’s bad enough without believing you favor him over me.”
George pulled Scott to a halt before he could tuck the parcel under his arm and open the door. “You’re our mate, it’s that simple.”
Scott felt his demon's conflict as his cheeks ached from the grin he got, thanks to the sincerity and pride coming from their blissful one. He came forward and kissed him softly. “It is, blissful one.”
The door in front of them opened, and Scott’s groan was all inside his mind as he reluctantly pulled away, already knowing who was watching them by the scent of his father’s cloying aftershave. He glanced sideways. “Father.”
“I thought I heard voices. What are you doing in the storeroom?”
His snooty tone made Scott stiffen. “It was once my bedroom, if you recall.” He looked at George, working to keep his embarrassment in check. “George, this is my father, Randal.”
Father barely allowed his gaze to shift in George’s direction, the slight was impossible to ignore.
“Nice to meet you,” George said politely, offering his hand.
When his father hesitated, Scott stiffened further, his back aching with tension, and he’d barely been in the house a minute or more. “Father!” he snapped, “George is my blissful one.” The latter, he said with great joy.
“What!” The disbelief was easy to read as he finally looked fully at George, mouth agape, eyes bulging out of their sockets.
Scott’s demon bristled at the condescending look, and Scott had to work to keep from shifting.
We aren’t starting a fight, do you hear me?
How could I not when you’re bellowing at me?
Was I?
You are. It’s alright, hon.
Oh bugger, he was, and now George had heard him, too. It’s not alright at all. I will not let them treat you the same as they treat me. I won’t.
His parents dressed and preferred to stay in their human form, Scott had no recollection of seeing his father’s demon in years. They had the lord of the manner act down to a tee. This was mostly why Scott had so much conflict over the two halves of himself.
The click of heels made Scott’s anxiety coil tighter, and he groaned internally at who was coming.
George ran a reassuring hand down his back and brought him closer as Scott’s mother appeared in the doorway, wearing a pinched look of disdain as she glanced into the room. “Why are we standing around in the storeroom? Dinner is about to be served. You know I can’t abide lateness, Scott. It’s so like you to act with no consideration for your family.”
She never so much as acknowledged George, further insulting Scott. He had a thick skin, one he had developed over the decades because of their behavior towards him. He had no such thickness when it came to George. “Mother, I’d like to introduce you to George, my blissful one,” he gritted out, forcing his lips into a tight smile.
“There’s that damn thing again. Blissful one, what nonsense is this? He’s clearly not a demon.” His father’s long, pointy nose wrinkled when he came forward by half an inch—like he might catch something if he stepped closer—and sniffed the air. “He’s a bear!”
“He’s my bear.” The snap to his tone would have flayed skin from bone at the insult no one in a mile radius would miss. “The demon gods blessed me with a blissful one, and all you can say is he’s a bear? What happened to congratulations, son ? Or is that too much to ask?” he asked sarcastically, fighting his demon every inch from shifting.
His anger matched that of his demon, but fighting was never the answer. He’d learned that growing up. Although this time his family had outdone themselves, they hadn’t gotten beyond his own bedroom—storeroom—that was a first even for his family before the insults started.
“I’m not sure what’s going on here, but Scott’s my claimed mate. One I’m proud to have—”
“I’m sure you are being a lowly bear,” his mother said haughtily, nose pointing in the air as if seeking cleaner air.
“Lowly bear, how dare you insult my blissful one!” Scott bellowed, and was met with two stunned expressions. In the whole of his life he had worked to please his parents—unsuccessfully, he might add—and now he could see that even the gift the gods had bestowed on him wasn’t proof enough that he was worthy of being a part of this family. It hurt, but not as much as George being treated with such disrespect.
When his demon pushed once more, he didn’t stand in his way. The gift when flying, then gone was the tuxedo, and his demon stood—naked—in all his pale blue glory. “Acknowledge our blissful one,” he bellowed, causing the room to shake and boxes to fall.
The sound of shoes clattering down the hall made not one iota of difference to his demon, Scott was a little more conflicted at his brothers seeing him like this. They’d been merciless about his pale skin when they’d been growing up.
George, it appeared, had enough, not that Scott could blame him. “I think it’s time we left.” He hooked an arm through theirs, not taking his gaze off the group of demons all vying to get into the room past the two statues he’d reduced his parents to by letting his demon out.
“Not before they acknowledge you,” his demon persisted, glancing at George. All he wanted was for them to see how wonderful their bear was. It was that simple.
His family was not that simple.
“The king is going to hear about this!” his father, having finally found his tongue, snapped in a strangled voice, spitting angry darts at George. “We will get this mix-up rectified.”
The roar was deafening as his demon lost his shit at the idea that their blissful one was a mix-up. “Mix-up! Mix-up.”
George turned his back on those vying for attention and reached up to once more cup their cheeks, holding his gaze. “Take me home, sweetie, I’ll take you out for a burger.” He flicked a glance over his shoulder, giving his family a pitiful look. “At least then we’ll be able to enjoy it without the atmosphere of condescending asshole choking us.”
Scott snorted, and his demon found the humor in the situation, laughing heartily at the pointed dart hitting home when silence descended from those in the doorway.
Only it didn’t last for long. Scott should have known they wouldn’t escape that easily.
“You are aware of who you are speaking to?” His father’s tone could freeze a demon’s balls right off. While his demon magic held Scott prisoner, unable to translocate.
George, as if sensing the immediate panic running through Scott at what his father might try to do to him, to George, growled, low and mean, swinging around to the sound of tearing clothes.