Page 98 of Love Me in the Dark

Of course if pointed any of these things out to him, then he would say I was wrong and I didn’t want to ruin Micha’s big day by getting in an argument. Besides, I wouldn’t doubt if Martin did these things just to annoy me. He thought I was too young and ill prepared to take the crown. He was probably right, but we didn’t have a choice. Our parents made a deal that we had to abide by. And that was just as much his fault as it was mine.

“Logan Elliot Hudson,” I rolled my eyes when Martin turned to the boy standing next to my son. He was supposed to finish with one before moving on to the other. “Are you prepared to take the oath and pledge your life to The Order?”

Logan gave him two thumbs up and said, “totally.”

That boy was too much like his father. He even looked like a mini Ryker, who was standing next to me with a sour look on his face.

“You better start taking this seriously boy.”

I was about to tell him to give the child a break, when Logan stood up straight, clacked his feet together and gave his father a firm salute. “Ten four big daddy.”

That response was better than anything I could’ve said. I’d never seen Ryker looked more pissed off, and I’d seen him at his worst. One night in college turned my best friend into my enemy. Ryker Hudson was ruthless and vindictive. The devil himself would bow down to the evil I’d seen that man do. His family lived through that evil every day. Yet his son refused to break.

Although I would argue that Logan was born broken. That kid wasn’t right. It wasn’t in the same way as Dean’s son Preston, but Logan wasn’t normal either. It was almost as if the child didn’t feel fear. I’d never seen him scared, even of his own father – who he should be afraid of. I found it fascinating.

Martin picked up the branding iron and poked it in one of the braziers, causing the flame inside to flicker.

Ryker, Sebastian and I stepped back to fold our hands as Dean went around the room, igniting the torches hanging the wall.

The ambiance of the shadowed light cast across the marble flooring added to the ceremonial effect of the room. An effect that had one purpose, to stir a child’s over active imagination.

Each and every king held a great many secrets. Skeletons in important people’s lives that could easily destroy them. This was one of the keys to our power. A person would do just about anything to keep the darker parts of their soul hidden. Meaning the key holders had to be strong willed. If we couldn’t overcome our own nervousness, then how were supposed to control someone else’s?

Micha I had no doubt about, but Logan…

I looked over at the blonde little boy who was swinging his hands through the air while making quiet airplane sounds.

His impulsiveness was something I’d have to redirect. I failed with his father. Then again, I’d failed with a great many things when it came to Ryker. And it all started with the chance meeting of a blonde…

Pushing the memory back, I cleared my throat and gave Logan an arched brow.

Though he rolled his eyes, he snapped to attention. When Martin demanded the boys recite their oath, I wondered how many of the words Logan would remember. But the boy surprised me.

Both Micha and he stood up straight and proudly proclaimed, “The Ravens stand strong, Through credence and time, My brother is my bond, His family is mine.”

Next came the branding.

Micha was first to hold his arm out, and like most children he flinched when the red hot raven was pressed to his inner wrist. But the only sound he made was a small wince before he gritted his teeth and sucked his pain back.

My strong boy took it like a champ, even though it hurt like hell. I could see the tears running down his cheeks.

I cried. We all did. Most of us screamed too. In fact there’d only been one strange reaction to the branding. Dean’s eldest son Preston. There were tears in his eyes and he winced in pain. But when the scent of his seared flesh rolled through the air, he cocked a brow down at his arm. As if he was curious about the way his skin was burning.

At first I thought I might have a future arsonist on my hands. Once I ran him through some tests, I saw how wrong that was. It was very rare that someone in my profession could honestly diagnose a child that young as a sociopath.

When it came to his son’s turn, Ryker slapped me on the chest and tipped his chin at Logan. “Watch how my boy takes this.”

For years now he’d been trying to outdo me in any way he could, and when that didn’t work he threw a tantrum by torturing a random person. Leaving me with a mess to clean up. So, I didn’t put much stock in his statement.

Then the iron pressed onto Logan’s skin.

I tipped my head and waited for the boy to cry out, or shed a single tear.

He did neither. Logan didn’t react at all. He simply stood there as this was a regular Sunday at the park.

My eyes narrowed on a large purple bruise peeking out from the sleeve of his shirt.

Perhaps it was a regular Sunday for him?