Chapter 61
A Picture of You
Ronan paced.
He couldn’t possibly sit down.
How could this have happened? He was screwed. There was no way around it. He was just screwed. And because of his stupidity, he was going to hurt Aiden as well.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Look, we’ll figure it all out as soon as Winter gets here,” Ethan promised.
Ronan was pretty sure the fledgling had said that at least once before, but the words weren’t permeating his brain.
No, he was edging straight toward full-blown panic, and he wasn’t the type to panic.
He was a thousand-year-old vampire. He’d survived wars and plagues and the birth of the Internet and microwaves. He could get through this.
His only concern was for Aiden. He couldn’t hurt Aiden. His mate was his everything. He’d waited a lifetime to finally hold Aiden in his arms. They’d enjoyed just a few short months together—this stupidity couldn’t destroy their chance at happiness.
Footsteps echoing along the hall had Ronan spinning to the partially open door for Ethan’s office.
His heart stuttered and threatened to stop, fearful that it was Aiden.
A relieved breath nearly exploded from him when Winter poked his head into the room followed by Fox.
Aiden hadn’t expected to see the witch, but he should have. Fox was never too far from his mate.
Ronan cursed himself. He probably should have asked Winter to come alone. The fewer people who knew about this the better—but then, would Winter really keep a secret from his mate? Probably not.
“It’ll be okay. Fox can help us brainstorm,” Ethan said as if reading his mind. He hurried over to the door, waving Winter and Fox inside, and closing it behind them.
“What’s up?” Winter inquired, his gaze bouncing from Ethan to Ronan.
“We have a minor-ish emergency,” Ethan announced.
Fox’s eyebrows jumped up toward his hairline. “Marcus okay? What can we do?”
“It’s not Marcus,” Ethan replied with a smile.
Winter shook his head. “It can’t be Aiden. We just saw him in crossing the main hall with someone from the Montgomery clan.”
“It’s me. I fucked up,” Ronan admitted. He shoved both hands into his hair and pulled. How could he be so careless? He would never have reached such an old age if he’d lived so stupidly.
“I’ll be okay. Winter’s here. I bet he can totally fix this, and Aiden will never have to know,” Ethan comforted. The young vampire crossed to his desk and dropped back into the chair. He rolled it so that he could easily see around the double-monitor setup that dominated the desk.
“I wasn’t all that worried before, but now that I’m hearing we need to hide something from Aiden—”
“And probably Marcus,” Ethan added with a wince. “Just until it’s all taken care of. You know how fussy he gets. I don’t want to worry him.”
“Fussy?” Winter scoffed.
“I think the word you’re looking for is pissed. He gets really freaking pissed,” Fox corrected.
Ethan’s lips parted, seeming ready to argue, but the words never came out as the doorknob turned. They all froze as the door opened…only to reveal Bel followed by River.
“You’re right! They are hiding in Ethan’s office,” Bel declared.
“Never question my nose,” River said proudly, tapping the side of his nose with one finger.
“What’s going on? Is this a private meeting?” Bel asked, stepping inside.
Ronan groaned and dropped his face into his hand. The idea had been to just get Winter over to the house and come up with a solution. Now he’d gained Fox, Bel, and River. This was getting out of control.
“I have a feeling that it was supposed to be, but Ronan and Ethan have yet to tell us what’s going on,” Winter muttered. He lounged on the small sofa placed near the far wall opposite the desk. Fox was cuddled against him, his head resting on his lover’s shoulder.
“Oh! We’re sorry. We didn’t mean to intrude. We’ll leave so you can have your meeting.” Bel started to backpedal, bumping into his mate.
“No, stay,” Ronan grumbled, dropping his hand to his side. “You might be able to help.”
“True. Bel is a sneaky scientist. He might have a great way to destroy the evidence,” Ethan commented, a note of excitement entering his voice. That almost earned another groan from Ronan. Destroying evidence. There shouldn’t be evidence in the first place. He knew better than this.
“There’s evidence now?” Winter mumbled. “This isn’t good.”
Bel and River fully entered the room and closed the door behind them. Bel perched on the edge of Ethan’s desk and automatically pulled River between his legs, wrapping his arms loosely around the man’s waist. “What’s going on? How can we help?”
“We’re still waiting to hear,” Fox replied. “But we’re getting the impression that Ronan fucked up and it could potentially hurt Aiden.”
Yeah, that pretty well summed it up.
“Oh, no!” Bel gasped.
“What are you doing here anyway?” Winter demanded. “Ethan called me.”
“Hmm?” Bel murmured, looking as if his brother pulled him from his worried ruminations. “I came to visit Aiden, and River wanted to hang out with Ethan while Wyatt is visiting with the pack.”
“Should we worry about Rafe stopping by as well? Isn’t he busy with his nightclub?” Ronan grumbled.
“Well, he—”
“Since you asked so nicely…” Rafe’s voice rippled out from under the door just before it was opened.
Fuck. Ronan turned and banged his head against the wall.
Any other evening, it took nearly an act of God to get all the brothers to the house for a family dinner or meeting.
They were all constantly busy with their own lives and problems. Just the one time Ronan wanted a quiet meeting with Winter alone, he got nearly all of them. This was getting out of control.
“Do I even want to know what this secret cabal is about?” Rafe drawled. “A little early to be brainstorming for Aiden’s birthday, right? That’s not for another four months, unless I’m mistaken.”
“It’ll be okay, Ronan,” Ethan comforted. “Rafe might be a pain in the ass, but he’s also super sneaky. He’ll think of something if Winter can’t.”
“Lovely, Little Varik,” Rafe grumbled with a glare.
“Just get your ass in here and close the door. Ronan fucked up and he needs help fixing it or the backlash is going to hurt Aiden,” Ethan snapped.
“What’s going on?” Rafe asked, shutting the door.
“No idea,” Fox replied.
Winter dropped his head on the sofa and added, “If people would just stop walking in here, we could get the story out of Ronan.”
“Preferably before Marcus discovers us,” Ethan mumbled.
“Well, if we’re hiding this from Mr. Stick In The Mud, I’m definitely interested,” Rafe announced.
Ronan lifted his head from the wall and turned to find the other Varik twin leaning on the door with his arms folded over his chest. The office was now significantly more crowded than it needed to be, but he had to hold on to the hope that all these crafty brains would come up with something.
“Okay, Ronan. Please tell us what’s wrong,” Bel prodded.
Sucking in a deep breath, Ronan stepped away from the wall and faced the brothers and the mates that were present.
“Ethan informed me that a rare cache of paintings was uncovered in the Netherlands. They’re believed to be painted by a yet-to-be-discovered Old Master, someone who supposedly apprenticed under Rembrandt. ”
“I’m guessing you’re responsible for these paintings?” Winter prodded.
“Wait! You studied under Rembrandt? The Rembrandt?” River gasped before he could reply.
“Yes,” Ronan said to Winter and then turned to River.
“No. I never apprenticed under Rembrandt. We both apprenticed under Jacob van Swanenburg as well as Pieter Lastman in Amsterdam. I knew Rembrandt—nice kid—but I never studied under him. We developed a somewhat similar style in those early years, but he went on to fine-tune his technique while I moved to France and went in a different direction.”
“So, what was found was a collection of paintings that you left behind in Amsterdam?” Bel inquired.
“Yes. About thirty or so, if I’m remembering correctly.” Ronan huffed angrily at himself and shook his head. “I left them with a friend. I was planning to send for them once I got settled, but then the war broke out, I got distracted, and completely forgot they even existed.”
“What war?” Fox asked.
“Huh?”
“What war broke out?” he repeated.
Ronan shrugged. “Who knows? There was almost always a war happening in Europe while I was there. I just tried to stay out of the way of the fighting.”
Rafe pressed his fingers into his forehead and rubbed. “Forgive my confusion, but who cares? I’m sure they’re lovely paintings, but do they even matter? How are they going to link them back to you?”
“Ronan isn’t the issue here,” Ethan broke in. “It’s Aiden.”
“The paintings are largely landscapes, but I also painted at least a dozen portraits of Aiden from memory,” Ronan admitted softly.
Fox lurched forward on the sofa, leaning toward Ronan. “Seriously?”
Winter’s brow furrowed. “But if we’re talking Rembrandt, that’s like…six hundred years after you last saw Aiden. How accurate could they be?”
Ronan narrowed his eyes on the youngest Varik and tried not to clench his teeth. “Would you forget the details of Fox’s face after a mere six centuries?”
Winter paled and his arm tightened around his mate, pulling him a little closer. “No. No, I wouldn’t.”
An ache went through Ronan’s heart for Winter, and the brief irritation evaporated.
Winter lived with the daily fear of losing Fox because he was still largely human.
While he respected the witch’s desire to continue to study magic, part of him wished Fox would just decide to become a vampire and save Winter the constant worry.
He didn’t want Winter to suffer the pain he had of losing a soulmate too soon.
The ghost of an old ache shuffled across his soul, and he fought back a shiver. A thousand years they’d been separated. After that horrible night, he’d been sure Aiden was gone, but Ronan never forgot about him.