“You had Celia wake me up,” I reminded him.
“That was mother,” he pointed out. “And I brought you an entire blonde.”
Benedict chuckled. “Some things never change.”
“Some people, you mean.” I took the bottle from him and read the label. It was fifty years old and from a small town outside Edinburgh that was known for only two things. “This ought to be good.”
“Say what you want, but werewolves know their whisky,” Benedict said. “Shall we finish off what you started?”
I stared at him for a moment, wondering if he’d been sent here to deliver some family edict on my recent choices. Benedict’s brown eyes–which had a warm, deep glow that reminded me of logs on a fire–studied me back. He looked good, dressed in a cashmere suit that was tailored to fit his massive vampiric frame. His tie hung loosely around his neck as if to signal he was ready to relax.
Benedict was the diplomat of the family. The man we sent to handle everything from strained relations between rival bloodlines to Council issues to our increasingly tenuous relationships with other species. If he were human, he’d be a prime minister or a president. But vampire law dictated that we never hold official positions in human governments.
“Let’s open this one.” He gestured to the bottle he’d brought.
Of course, Benedict was talking about Scotch, not Thea.
“I’m sorry. I’m distracted. Let me get you a drink,” I said. The sooner I could convince my brain–and my dick–that Thea wasn’t the center of the universe, the better. I poured a drink into two crystal glasses and brought one to each of them.
“To family,” Benedict said, raising his cup.
Sebastian rolled his eyes, his own glass already at his lips. “It’s just us. You don’t have to be the golden child.”
“Believe it or not, I actually meant it,” Benedict muttered, shooting him a weary look. “Even if you’re here.”
“I’m touched, brother.” Sebastian pressed a hand to his heart. Then he downed his entire drink in one gulp. He looked around the room, then back at me. “Where’s your sweet little human?”
My spine stiffened as I felt the increasingly familiar rage begin to take hold. All I could manage was to spit a single word in his direction. “Out.”
Sebastian tossed a cocky grin at Benedict and then laughed. “I told you.”
“Shit,” Benedict murmured, taking a sip of his Scotch.
“And you didn’t believe me.” Sebastian leaped onto his feet and headed for the bottle of booze. I stepped into his path before he could reach it.
“Told him what?” I demanded. The room darkened around us. I rounded on Benedict next. “What? What didn’t you believe?”
“Calm down. You’re acting a little psycho,” Sebastian said, brushing past me. He picked up the bottle and took a swig from it.
“Help yourself,” I grumbled. I took a deep breath and pushed back the turmoil stirring inside me. “Now, will one of you tell me what the hell you’re talking about?”
“According to Sebastian, you have a girlfriend–a human girlfriend,” Benedict said.
“Is that why you’re here?” I edged closer. “Have you been sent to talk sense into me?”
His mouth twisted into a bemused line. “Are you hoping I will?”
“Thea is a means to an end. Nothing more,” I informed him.
“Really?” Benedict sounded unconvinced. “Look, I’ve spent enough time around politicians to know spin when I see it.”
“I’m not spinning anything.” I cracked open the bottle he brought and poured myself a drink.
“So she’s a means to an end?” he said, repeating my words. “What end?”
“I don’t have to tell you that they enacted the Rites.” I sank into a leather chair by the window. “She’s a distraction. If I’m seeing someone, I can’t be expected to prance about looking for a wife, can I?”
“Interesting.” Benedict took another drink, but I spotted the smile he tried to hide.
“You should both be thanking me.” I pointed my index finger at each in turn. “The longer I drag this out, the longer you have until it’s your necks on the line.”
“And how long do you think you can keep our mother at bay?” he asked, voicing the question I’d been asking myself since I’d found out the Rites would continue indefinitely.
“I don’t know,” I admitted, dropping my head in my hand. “Maybe one of you should just stake me.”
“That seems like a dramatic solution,” Benedict said.
“But points for style,” Sebastian added. He sat down again–this time on the Persian rug–and continued nursing his bottle. “Why not just get married?”
“Seriously?” Rage boiled inside me, but I tamped it down. “Why don’t you get married?”
“I will–when it’s my turn.” He smirked.
Without meaning to I hurled my glass at his head. He ducked just in time, and it shattered against the wall behind him.
“I don’t see what the big deal is,” he continued, completely unfazed by the outburst. “It doesn’t change anything. Look at Mum and Dad. They do whatever–and whomever–they please.”
“Yes, what a shining example of marital bliss for all of us,” Benedict said dryly. “But–and I hate to say it–he makes a decent point. It’s not like you need to give up your human. Plenty of vampires keep pets after they’re married.”
