Page 56 of Grand Romantic Delusions and the Madness of Mirth, Part One

Bolan wrenches his gaze away from me as I get the sheet wrapped more securely. And just for a moment, there’s something open and vulnerable in his expression. “Mirth … that shit with Isla. I’m not interested in —”

Then he frowns again, voice trailing off. His gaze suddenly locked to something over by the entertainment center.

Bolan’s body goes completely rigid. Then he lunges forward. “What the fuck?!”

Rian shoves himself between us again, but Bolan’s attention is fixed to the framed photos on the entertainment center, not me.

The pissy rock star practically leaps across the room, snatching one of the photos up, glaring down at it.

“Take it easy,” Rian says, trying to sound calm but not quite pulling it off this time.

Two unaffiliated wolf shifters confined in a small space, I realize way too belatedly. And this is Rian’s territory, no matter how new. Bolan is putting off enough shitty energy that I’m surprised they aren’t already tearing into each other.

“Where did you get this?” Bolan snarls, shoving the photo toward Rian.

I scramble off the bed, hampered by the sheet as I try to step between them. Rian gently snags my shoulders and shoves me behind him.

That only incenses Bolan further. “Hands off her, asshole.”

“Calm down,” Rian says. Though he removes his hands from me, he simply starts shifting side to side to block me as I try to step around him.

“Tell me how you got a fucking picture of my father,” Bolan says darkly. “And who the fuck this woman is.”

Rian’s hands drop. In absolute shock.

He actually stumbles over his next words.

“That’s my … mother.”

The wooden frame holding the photo cracks in Bolan’s hand. He ignores it, seething. “And …?”

“My … birth father.”

“Your birth father.” Bolan’s tone is ice cold. He stares at Rian. Looking at him, then down at the picture, then back up.

My head feels momentarily hollow. Emptying itself in expectation of reality rushing back in as soon as I piece together all the nuances of what Bolan has just discovered.

The rock star shifter is thinking more clearly than me. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen,” Rian says. Skipping a month ahead for sake of clarity, I assume.

“Nineteen …” Bolan stares down at the photo for a moment, then almost gently sets it back onto the entertainment center. Despite the crack in the frame, the glass has thankfully survived.

“Little more than a twinkle in his eye …” He laughs gratingly. “That’s what he always said to both of us, my sister and me. About how he fell in love with my mother when we were but a twinkle in his eye.”

Rian is shaking his head. Not in denial, though. Because he’s also looking at that picture and then at Bolan.

They both look like their father.

Their father!

And fuck me, I saw that! The first night with Rian. I thought that he reminded me of Bolan, then pushed the resemblance away. Because I know all of Bolan’s family. I’ve known them all since I was seven and he and Armin were nine, when he joined us at school after his father died.

“I guess his eyes fucking twinkled for your mother as well,” Bolan says almost tonelessly.

Bolan doesn’t do toneless.

I step around Rian, reaching for Bolan. He lets me brush my fingers against his shoulders. But then he’s shaking his head and backing away. “I just need a minute, Mirth. I’ll come to you. We’ll … we need to talk, but …”

He doesn’t finish. He just steps away, crossing out of the bedroom and softly closing the door— somehow not broken during his enraged entrance— behind him.

Rian and I watch him go.

Then I turn, wide-eyed in disbelief, to stare at Rian.

He takes one step back, collapsing onto the edge of the bed. “What the … he … he had a family?”

I open my mouth to say something, to say anything. Nothing comes out. So I slide onto the bed, slipping one leg behind Rian so I can wrap him in a sideways hug.

“That’s why … all the fucking secrecy and fucking half-lies.” Rian is spitting angry now. “He was already fucking mated! And wolves don’t fucking cheat on their chosen mates!”

“Maybe … maybe your mother was going to join your father’s bond group. Or maybe … I mean, I would have assumed it because they had two children, but maybe Bolan’s mother wasn’t his … soul-bound mate.”

Rian snorts, shaking his head. “That’s just a fucking myth. A fucking loophole for …” He catches himself before finishing, but I get the gist.

“A way to justify polygamy?”

“Mirth … I didn’t mean. I understand that you … that you’re awry.”

“Do you?” I murmur, still holding him because I know he needs it.

“Yes. I’m talking about my cheating fucking father.”

“And I’m trying to remind you that you don’t have all the facts yet.”

He takes a shuddering breath. “Right. Right.”

I hold him until some of the tension leaves his body. Then I slowly withdraw. “I’m going to give you space to make some phone calls.”

Rian groans. The sound is almost playful. “Before dinner? ”

I just smile, hunting for my clothing. My underwear is missing.

“Inside your pants,” he says, sounding amused.

I flash him a smile, then pull on the lacy panties that are indeed crumpled in the leg of my pants. “So impatient.”

He opens his hands to the sides, playfully expressing his utter helplessness. “You’re lucky you weren’t stripped naked in the fucking stables. I want you. I want you that fucking much.”

Tugging on the pants, I step between his legs. His hands instantly snag my hips, and I bow over him to take a gentle kiss from his lips.

“Text me if you want to talk,” I say. “I’m just going to sneak into my bedroom and hide out for the rest of the night.”

“Is that an invitation?”

“Anytime.”

I disengage before I give in to the impulse to push him back on the bed and attempt to make him forget the revelation that’s seemingly shattered his world. That his father had another family when he was conceived. That his half-brother is a world-famous rock star.

He lets me go, reluctantly. Settling his elbows on his knees and bowing his head over his clasped hands. “I’m going to call my mother.”

I tug on my jacket.

Rian clears his throat. “It might require an in-person visit.”

“I imagine it will.”

“Don’t … don’t take a chosen mate without …” He shakes his head, not quite looking me in the eye.

“That’s another conversation,” I say gently. My heart aches.

“Yeah. ”

“And one we will have … because … because you’ll come with me, won’t you?”

His eyes snap to mine. “Anywhere. Anytime.”

“Okay, then.”

“Okay.”

We just stand there, grinning at each other like lovelorn idiots. Then he sighs and nods, straightening to fish his phone out of his discarded jeans.

I slip out the door as he taps in a number. Then I head back to the castle.