Page 14 of Grand Romantic Delusions and the Madness of Mirth, Part Two

“Bolan,” my mother says, visibly trying to calm herself. “A mating bite —”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but you can clearly see I didn’t break the skin.”

“But you still bit her! And that is …” She inhales deeply. “That’s not —”

“You fucking helped me get ready for the fucking matchmaking event! What the fuck did you think would happen?”

My mother sags a little, swaying on her feet.

I fill in the blanks. “You thought I wasn’t good enough for Mirth.”

“I love you, Bolan, but why must you always have to be so dramatic!? You cannot mate the heir to the United European Nation. It will never happen. She needs … Mirth needs … a prince.”

My voice softens under a momentary onslaught of grief. “The prince is dead.”

My mother reels back from me, hurt and shocked.

I press her anyway.

“Armin took a chunk of my soul with him when he died. Fortunately, Mirth owns the rest.” I swallow, then make an acknowledgement out loud for the first time. “I’m part of the Savoy bond group. It was never just one prince fated to Mirth. It was six of us. Originally.”

My mother blinks at us, unable to fully absorb — or, more accurately, to process — my claims.

But it’s Mirth’s energy that surrounds me, that steadies me, as her eyes turn from my mother to me. I can feel that purple-eyed gaze sliding across my face. And when I turn to her, I see she’s gazing up at me with sadness, but with more of that gentle joy as well.

“We’re soul bound.” Mirth smiles, hesitant. It’s the first time she’s acknowledged the connection between us. Out loud, at least.

I don’t like the sadness, the tentativeness, underlying that smile, so I pull her into me, pivoting so my back is to my mother.

So I’m shielding Mirth from her weirdly judgemental gaze.

I cup her face and press my forehead to hers so that I’m all she sees as I whisper, “We were carved out of the same bit of the universe. Soul bound to find each other through each life we spend walking the earth.”

Mirth just gazes up at me, capturing what little of me still belongs to me alone in the depths of her eyes. I know I still need to prove myself. I know it will take another lifetime to do that, but this moment, right here, is everything I need to —

Behind me, my mother huffs. “Well, at least you’re both just as delusional as the other. And yes, I have maple syrup.” She pivots away.

As if that’s the end of the conversation.

As if she can freak out, say a bunch of shit, then just walk away.

I keep my forehead pressed against Mirth’s, but I raise my voice so my mother knows I’m addressing her. “I can hear Sophia and Emily moving around upstairs. Is Livi around? She’s going to want to be here for the next part of this conversation.”

My mother hesitates halfway out of the mudroom.

I glance at her over my shoulder, still so fucking angry about what she’s kept from me. What she’s kept from all my siblings. “You’ll never guess who else is part of the Savoy bond group.”

Not content to be hidden from view, Mirth shifts slightly to the side. I’ll have to get used to that, to not being able to hoard her away from the world.

Mirth’s movement draws my mother’s gaze, and Adeline Yates Harris finally rallies enough to remember who she’s supposed to be in this moment. “Congratulations, Mirth. I’m so pleased you found your … mates.”

“You don’t believe in such connections?” Mirth says quietly.

My mother’s shoulders stiffen. It’s subtle, but I catch it.

“I always thought you and dad were chosen mates,” I say, unable to adopt as much of Mirth’s poise as I would like.

“We were,” my mother snaps defensively.

“Is that why the bite mark bothers you?” I ask. “Because you two never exchanged bites?”

“That is none of your business.”

“It is when you’ve been hiding a baby brother from us all.”

My mother’s eyes widen. I’m not sure what she was expecting, but it wasn’t that accusation.

She also knows exactly what I’m talking about.

I press her. “How long have you known? Were you even together when Dad died?”

“Of course we were. We were married, committed to each other.”

“He couldn’t have gotten another shifter pregnant if you were bite bonded.”

“That’s ridiculous. A dangerous myth and an utter lie.”

“I imagine a DNA test would make it all very clear to you,” I say, knowing I’m being nasty but absolutely unable to stop myself. “I imagine the fact that he … Rian … that he looks like a fucking replica of Dad —”

“That’s enough, Bolan. My relationship with your father isn’t in question, and I don’t believe for a moment that —”

The sound of rapid footsteps overhead— one of my younger sisters running down the hall— interrupts my mother’s impassioned denial. She snaps her mouth shut, levels a warning look at me, and spins away. As if I won’t just follow her into the kitchen.

I thread my fingers through Mirth’s. Her skin is chilled. But when I pause to check on her, she just regards me with her purple eyes softly glowing and her chin raised — ready to stand where I now need her. At my side.

Still, I need to justify my behavior, so I latch onto just one of the things currently bothering me. “If I had a brother, I had a right to know. I had a right to have him in my life, if he wanted to be. And now … now I need …”

“You need Rian to know that,” Mirth says softly. “You need him to know that you would have fought for him. Will fight for him.”

“I’m tired of letting people down. My people.”

“Your bond mates.”

I nod at her understanding. At her acceptance. I’m not sure why doing so makes my chest ache, though. Maybe because I don’t deserve her. I open my mouth to say some of that, any of that. But Mirth just touches my cheek, then brushes her fingertips across my cheekbone and down my jaw.

“I’m going to fuck up,” I murmur. “I know I am, but —”

“I’ve seen all your so-called fuck-ups, Bolan. Literally witnessed them. My eyes are wide open.”

“I’m so sorry —”

“That’s not what I meant,” Mirth says a little sharply. Calling me so effectively to heel that my wolf presses against my skin, rumbling and pleased. “You say you’re mine.”

“Yes. Utterly. Devotedly.”

“And … when haven’t I been yours? When haven’t I taken your side against the world?”

I grin at her. Fuck, I’m changeable today. Like always, maybe. “If you like, I can recount the number of times you’ve been livid with me just in the last week.”

“That’s between us. It has nothing to do with this conversation with your mother,” she says, all poised and pretty.

As if we haven’t just been fucking in the dirt.

As if she hadn’t taunted me, taunted my wolf, until I claimed her exactly as she wanted to be claimed, harsh and ready.

As if she hadn’t shoved my hand back between her legs while I was still recovering from coming so hard I could barely stay upright, demanding to come herself and showing me exactly how to help her do it.

And yeah, no matter how mind-altering that orgasm was, I’m never going to forget her snarling ‘that was my fucking come’ right before she milked my cock.

“What are you thinking?” Mirth murmurs, eyes glinting.

I shake my head, stepping back from her even as I tighten my hold on her hand. “These sweatpants are way too tight for us to follow the path of my thoughts right now.”

She flushes, then deliberately drops her gaze to my crotch.

I catch her chin, raising her eyes back to meet mine. Then keeping my eyes wide open, I lean in and brush a gentle kiss across her lips.

She doesn’t close her eyes either.

She looks right at me, accepting. I know it’s tentative between us. That I’ll have to earn her trust. But I’ll do anything, anything it takes to be worthy of her friendship and our bond.

Livi, my older sister, is standing before the massive granite kitchen island with her dark-blue eyes fixed to our mother, who is spooning fruit salad into smaller bowls with her back to the rest of us.

Barefoot, Livi’s thrown an oversized light-brown sweater over her ballet exercise gear.

She’s tall and slim, her dark-blond hair slicked into a bun on the top of her head.

And she’s livid. At Mom. Livid like she overheard a good portion of our conversation.

Livi glances our way as Mirth and I step through from the mudroom. She gives me a cursory once-over — like she might be triaging me for damage — and comes up with a smirk. Then she pivots like the masterful dancer she is as she executes a perfect bow to Mirth.

The princess at my side snorts delicately. Then as mockingly as she can, Mirth flicks her fingers for Livi to rise.

She hates people bowing to her. Always has.

I should do it more often.

“Olivia,” Mirth says.

“Your Royal Highness. You look … well.”

Well fucked.

I almost say it out loud. Though my smirk most likely speaks for itself. Because Livi shakes her head at me before turning her attention back to our mother.

“So …” Livi says. “Who is Rian?”

“Our half-brother,” I say, tugging Mirth close enough to the island that I can steal one of the sausages my mother is now plating. I catch the moment she thinks about swatting me with the metal tongs she’s using, then stops herself.

“A kid Dad had before he died?” Livi asks, her tone still level like she isn’t almost as angry as I am.

I sniff the purloined sausage, confirming it’s turkey, then offer it to Mirth. For her to bite. To eat from my hand. My princess gives me a quelling look, then delicately nips the end off the sausage, chewing it.

I chuckle, somewhat amazed that I can be so livid and so fucking overwhelmingly in love at the exact same fucking time.

“Really?” Livi sighs. “I get to watch this unfold right now?”

I stuff the rest of the sausage in my mouth. To stop the cocky, completely inappropriate shit that wants to fall out of it.

“Rian?” Livi prompts.

My mother throws a dark look at me. “Just leave it.”

“Rian was born after your father died,” Mirth says, her tone edged in defiance. She’s just as tired of not speaking her truth as I am.

“You know him?” Livi asks, head tilted.