Page 57 of Sire

I’m not usually surprised like this, but I am by how Wren softly looks at me. It’s not the same look as when she feared I already had kids or a wife.

No, when I told Wren we’re initiating a queen tonight, and for the first time, the queen is a man, and I’m vowing to be his second king, Wren looked touched, even happy about it.

Zar is my brother Nick’s future husband. We love our brother, and we love Zar, and it’s not like Zar needs my protection. He has the build and billions to defend himself.

But this is about our bond and our survival. If a brother isn’t really our blood, like Nash. If a brother is gay, like Nick. If a brother is bi, like me. Or if a brother can be a royal dickhead, like Axel. It doesn’t matter.

If we stick together and stick to our traditions, we survive.

When Nick said he wanted Zar to be his queen, to behonored like the other spouses, we agreed. It was obvious that I would be Zar’s second king. With the way Zar looks—tall, tan, and handsome—it’s not a sacrifice. I was honored, and honestly, aroused to do it.

But now, I have Wren.

She’s flipped my world upside down in days, and I don’t want it back. I want her, and she wants this.

“You’re changing your traditions to honor Zar,” Wren points out. “So, why can’t you change your tradition so I can be there?”

Delphine raises her glass of Champagne. “Tchin-tchin!”

I reach for Wren’s hand on the white linen tablecloth. Holding it, I get damn honest with her. I’m starting to count on it.

“Because I’m not ready for that, Angel. First, I want our wedding night when I make you mine. After that, we can do everything else.”

“Promise?”

I lean over, kissing her cheek. “Promise.”

“When did you get so traditional?” Delphine asks, amused.

“When I mether.” I lift Wren’s hand, kissing it.

“Bullshit, you’ve always been this way.” Grant leans back in his chair. “You’ll break every damn rule, but not a tradition. Watch out, Wren. He’ll sneak and unwrap his Christmas presents under the tree to see what they are, then wrap them back, like no one can tell. But then he’ll make you wait until New Year’s Eve to open them.”

Wren looks perplexed. “New Year’s Eve?”

“It’s Russian Orthodox tradition.” Grant winks at her. “Your holy fucker is a complicated man.”

I laugh. “Amen.”

“So,” Wren asks, “if I can’t be at the initiation tonight andyou won’t let me take care of myself, which I can, by the way. Give me a Glock and Netflix, and I’ll be fine. Who’s going to…” she air quotes, “protect me?”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

WREN

“So, what’s the difference?”I ask. “They all taste like gasoline to me.”

Nash taps the glass shaped like a tulip. “Whisky is made of grain and aged in barrels.” He’s turned Sire’s island into a bar. “Scotch is similar but made in Scotland, and bourbon is produced here, and mostly made of corn.”

“Andsheis going to be drunk if you keep this up!” Sire calls out from his bedroom.

“Shehas to start sometime, my brother!” Nash shouts back, grinning.

“Here.” He offers me a glass. “This is a Van Winkle twenty-five. Rare and how bourbon should taste.”

I sip and I like him. I feel safe with Nash. Sire’s family is changing a tradition for me, too. Though Nash is a king, all decided he’d miss Zar’s initiation tonight, so he can stay here and protect me.

At first, I was annoyed. I felt infantilized, as if I needed a babysitter.