Page 152 of Bitten & Burned

“You make us sound like a cult.”

Anton held up a finger. “Technically, we’re a polycule. But let’s be honest—Vael’s got the brooding dignity. Cassian has the nobility. Dmitri looks like a statue someone accidentally brought to life. And Quil…”

“Quil’s going to be furious the second my father so much as looks at me funny.” I pulled on my blouse.

Anton grinned. “Exactly. I, meanwhile, will probably be polishing silverware suggestively just to make him uncomfortable.”

I gave him a shove as I walked past. “Try to keep the innuendos to a minimum until after he’s left.”

“No promises,” Anton called after me. Then, softer: “Do you want me there or not?”

I paused at the doorway, looking back.

“I want you there,” I said. “I want all of you there.”

His expression shifted—something deeper flickering behind the usual grin.

“If my father wants to say something about it, let him. It won’t be the first time I’ve disappointed him. And it won’t be the last, either.”

Anton didn’t smile this time. He just nodded.

“I’ll be right behind you.”

I left him there, still straightening my skirt as I hurried down the hall. Then, I tugged on my boots and paused to tie them.

When I rose again, Quil was there—silent, sudden, as if he’d stepped out of the fog itself. He was holding Fig in his arms.

“Oh,” I said, jolting slightly.

“Sorry,” Quil muttered. “I brought you Fig, I thought maybe you’d want him while you’re…talking to your father…I was just… do you need me to be there?”

I searched his face. He wasn’t asking because he wanted to be. He was asking because he would, if I said the word.

“I want you there,” I said softly, holding my hands out for Fig.

He looked away, jaw tight. “Then I’m there.” The bond hummed faintly with his words, taut and brittle, but steady enough to anchor me.

A beat passed. Then, quieter: “You’ll need to show him. The sigil. On my back.”

The mark on my thigh pulsed at his words, a hot reminder of what waited in that study. I nodded. “I know.”

He fell into step beside me. Not touching. Not speaking. Just a steady presence at my side. Fig meowed, but didn’t fight me, as if he knew we were going somewhere important and I needed him.

We turned down the hallway that led to the study, and I paused, swallowing hard as I stared at the open doorway, glowing into the darkness. A beacon, telling me which way to go. Or a warning, telling me to steer clear.

I sighed heavily.

“You alright?” Quil asked.

I nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just… don’t want to have this conversation.”

“I know the feeling…”

“Gods, you’re fast when you need to be, aren’t you?” Anton’s voice came from behind us, breathless but composed as he slowed to catch up. “Everything okay, Rowena?”

I nodded, but it wasn’t convincing.

He tilted his head. “That wasn’t your ‘I’m okay’ nod. Thatwas your ‘I’m about to walk into something horrible and would rather fake my own death’ nod.”