Page 177

Of course, we have lines that brothers never cross.
But with the queens? We share. We worship. We’re beasts dedicated to their pleasure.
“And tomorrow?” Sire sets out crystal glasses for vodka shots. “Wren’s inviting herself to your place for lunch. All of us. We’ll bring the food, and you’ll give away the kittens.”
A pang hits my heart.
What the fuck? Already?
From finding Sparky, our pregnant pain-in-the-ass cat, to watching each kitten born, to them pouncing on our bed, orshredding toilet paper, and lately, purring against my bare ankles when I brush my teeth … it’s time to say goodbye?
Not like we won’t see them. Not like we’re giving all of them away. We’re keeping Sparky and one kitten.
But it’s what Ruby wants.
It’s another bond for our family.
Everyone will take a kitten home. Everyone except Mom, who says she’s waiting for grandkids, not grandkittens, and Loch. He has dogs that won’t play nicely with a little golden lion.
Sire sees my face fall, like Ruby and I are about to be empty-nesters, and he shakes his head. “Wow, she’s really got you.”
“My cat?”
“Yeah, her too. But I mean Ruby, and I’m happy for you. Relieved actually. Damn you’re a dick when you’re miserable.”
“Like you’re a fucking ray of sunshine.”
“Oh, but I am, dear brother. For the Lord is a sun and a shield.”
“God, when will you stop quoting scripture?”
“When it stops annoying you.” He laughs, setting Ruby’s throne beside mine.
I guess from now on, she’ll sit between me and Nash.
Nash is second in command. He’s earned it, and Sire never wanted it. He accepted the third king’s throne out of obligation.
I think Sire fears how savage he can be. That he’s worse than me, so he doesn’t want the power.
Instead, he prays.
“So after her initiation tonight, when’s the big day?” he asks.
“She wants to get married next month in Mykonos. At The Mercier Hotel. It’s the first place we?—”
“Oh, I heard. Nick was impressed.” His smile crinkles the tattoo by his eye. “And you give me shit formykink.”
“Hey, every king has his kink. No judgement. As long as it gives us kids, too.”
“Yeah.” He gets that distant look. “Give us kids.”
“Hey, man. I didn’t mean to?—”
“It’s alright.”
I know Sire is bisexual. Since we were teens, he never hid it.
And I know he loves Wren above all. All the judgment some people give him as a pastor who’s now married to his parishioner. One who’s twenty years his junior. Though Sire looks perpetually thirty; it must be all those prayers and shit keeping him young.