someone I care about and made it real.
“Welcome,” he says as I take the glass from him. With a sip of my drink, I allow the warmth of the fruity, yet spicy alcohol to soothe the bird’s wings that have taken flight in my stomach.
“This is beautiful,” I remark as I slip into the waiting chair Lycan’s pulled out for me. He helps me with the seat before taking his own. Lifting his glass, he holds it up over the dancing flames, and I mimic his action.
“To a new beginning,” he says before clinking his glass against mine. The crystal tinkling while his gemstone eyes twinkle with mischief.
“Is this your way of attempting to soften me to the idea of marrying you?” I challenge before taking another mouthful of wine, hoping it will keep me calm through the dinner. Before Lycan can answer, we’re joined by his staff, who bring out plates with steaming food, waiting to be devoured. I notice the girl from this morning isn’t one of our servers, and I want to ask about her, but I don’t.
It’s not my place. Not yet anyway. Once we’re alone, I take in the meal in front of me—a bed of lettuce with small, bright red tomatoes, cucumber, and herbs. There are roasted cubes of pumpkin and steamed potatoes surrounding a beautifully prepared piece of chicken. My stomach growls in response, and a chuckle has me lifting my gaze to find Lycan watching me intently.
“I hope you enjoy dinner,” he tells me. “I didn’t think to ask if you’re allergic to anything. Forgive me.” He tips his head to the side in apology, and I can’t help but take in the shadows that dance across his face from the flames.
“Oh, no, I’m not. I pretty much eat anything.” We settle in after that, eating in comfortable silence, and for the first time since I was brought here, I feel normal. Perhaps it’s a mistake to allow myself the liberty of not being scared or worried about what’s going to happen, but knowing we’re right next door to Gran’s house also sets me at ease.
“Your grandmother is looking forward to the gala,” Lycan says as we’re halfway through our meals. This causes me to snap my focus on him.
“You spoke to her?” Disbelief laces my tone because she hasn’t even bothered to talk to me or even ask after me. Surely, she’s concerned about me being here.
“I did. I gave her a call earlier to let her know you’re well.” I’m staring at Lycan, mouth gaped in shock at his cavalier attitude. “I’ve known her a long time,” he continues in between bites of his dinner. “She’s a formidable woman.”
“Why did you not allow me to speak to her?”
“You’ll see her soon enough,” he tells me before popping a forkful into his mouth. His jaw works as he chews, his shrewd gaze locked on me. Suddenly, my appetite has dissipated into a swirl of anger, not at Lycan this time, but at my grandmother.
Instead of finishing my half-eaten meal, I pick up my wine and gulp down what’s left before glancing at Lycan, who’s holding the bottle ready to fill up my glass. I allow him to before drinking down half of what he poured. Anger sluices through me at how my family can just allow me to be taken.
“I’m sorry,” Lycan says suddenly, causing me to focus on him instead of swirling the crimson liquid in my glass. “Sometimes family isn’t always what you expect them to be.”
“Like with your brother?” I throw out, remembering how he warned me against the man who chased me through the woods. The hunter who wanted to steal me. The thought has a cold shiver skittering down my spine.
“Yes.” It’s only one word, but it’s drenched in agony and rage. Lycan doesn’t look at me as he finishes his meal before lifting the white napkin to wipe his mouth. Once he’s done, he sits back, drink in hand, to stare out at the dark garden beyond our idyllic setting. “There were times when I was younger, after my father died, that I believed Darius would come home.”
“I’m sorry you had to lose two people you loved.” For a moment, he looks human. Almost. I guess grief makes people seem more real because it’s only then they allow you to see inside them. The pain takes hold, and the walls they build come crashing down, even if only for a short moment. And that’s what