Page 1 of Teas’d (Evergreen Council)
“Why isthat delivery box still in the hallway, Charley?” Dad, or Dalziel Millar, Senior Vampire of the UK, if you want to use his more formal title, eyes me like he could see through my skull and into my brain if he only concentrated a bit harder. “I’m sure this is the third time I’ve mentioned it.”
It’s a really good box. I’m convinced I’ll find a use for it, but, as yet, I’ve not been struck with the right answer. I can’t say that though. Dad already thinks I’ve got a few screws loose. Okay, he doesn’t say that, but I’m sure he thinks it.
“I, uh, it could get damp in the tower.”
Dad’s eyes narrow alarmingly. “There is damp in the tower? Where? And why have you not said anything before now? Why hasn’t Lucien said something?”
Oh crap. Me and my idiot mouth. “I didn’t say it was damp. Just that it could be. And if it was, which it’s probably not, then the cardboard would get ruined and the box, which is a great box, would lose its structural integrity and then—” I grind to a sudden halt as Dad holds up his hand.
“So what you’re saying is that the tower is free from damp and this is purely an exercise in the convoluted way your brain works, right?” He rubs a hand across his left temple and I feel a pang of guilt. Can vampires get headaches? I’m enough to give anyone a brain ache, I know. Even Luc occasionally begs me to be quiet for a while. Well, that’s not strictly true — he gags me and fucks me until I can’t recall my own name — but it’s the same thing really.
Shit, I can feel my cock hardening in my cargo pants at the thought of Luc holding me down and controlling my orgasms. I do not want a hard-on in front of Dad. Or at least, not unless I’m feeding, then it seems we all do. Get horny, I mean.
Jesus, what was I supposed to be saying again? I blink at him, wondering if Isher or Eleanor or even Pavel could possibly walk by and save me. Fuck Dad for reinforcing most of the house with hidden iron so my magic no longer works indoors. I know he didn’t do it to stop me, but it’s still fucking inconvenient.
“Charley.” I snap to attention. “Are you with me, son?” He closes the gap between us and reaches up to clasp me around the back of my neck. “Are you unwell? Your concentration is poor today.”
I inhale a deep whiff of whatever it is Dad smells of; cologne, soap, old books, the faint rust-tang of blood, cool, fragrant pine trees, and fresh air. Family. “Sorry,” I mumble into the fine cotton of his shirt as I lean down and hide my face in the crook of his shoulder. “Away with the fairies.”
His soft snort of laughter is fond. “Let’s not tempt fate. Although you’re a tad on the large side to be a likely candidate for a changeling trick. Now, pay heed for a moment please.” I feel a thread of Dad’s thrall wind itself inside me and I exhale as I nod, overcome with the need to please him.
“I’m listening.”
He stares at me for a second, his hazel eyes clouded with what might be frustration. Finally he says, “I’m very glad to know that nothing ails you. But a little more application to the mundane aspects of living would be appreciated, all right?” I nod, mute in the face of his gentle disappointment. I know I’m a chaotic mess, but I don’t act like this on purpose. I just get distracted. “Perhaps you should go to the kitchen and ask Pavel for a snack. You’re a little more vague than is usual, even for you.” He pats my cheek, the gesture so full of affection that the urge to cry causes a lump in my throat.
My adoptive parents tried so damn hard with me, but it seems that the combination of vampire and Fae blood running through my veins made me cranky as fuck. They interpreted this as my rejecting their hands-on approach to parenting, leading to me being ever more needy and acting out to get the attention they cut back on, assuming their touch hurt me. God, I was a mess. No wonder I’d latched on to a wolf shifter. Even before we’d been bonded, Luc had been able to judge my emotional state from his heightened senses and act accordingly.
The fact Luc had chosen, and continues to choose me, astounds me on an hourly basis. He says he’s a ‘boring old beta’ in his pack, but every action he takes tells me he is alpha to his bone marrow; nurturing, wise, and loving. Maybe he’s not old enough yet, but he would be amazing with his own pack.
At a nudge from Dad, I take myself off to the kitchen, although I don’t think I’m hungry. Pavel starts, then smiles as he sees who has invaded his domain. Isher, my Fae mentor and friend, also starts, but he’s not quite quick enough to hide a look of guilt from me before his expression smooths over and he, too, smiles.
“You’re early, Charley. Keen to get going?”
Early for what? Oh yeah, my lesson. I must pull a face because he laughs. “You’ll get the hang of it soon enough, and then you won’t be able to stop yourself.”
Fireballs are allegedly child’s play for your average Fae. I am decidedly not average because I suck at conjuring them. I can give you an ice sculpture ten feet high but?—
“What can I tempt you with, young master?” Pavel looks so hopeful that I wrench my attention to him and ask him to fix me a snack of his choosing. He beams and heads straight to the food fridge (we have a blood fridge too, for the packet stuff).
Waving away Isher’s attempts to draw me into conversation, I scroll my phone for anything new. My finger hesitates over yet another Insta of a kitten. It’s so freaking cute, all oversized ears and pink nose. I’ve been systematically working on Luc for what feels like months to get a pet. I figured a kitten would be perfect as, unlike with a dog, Luc wouldn’t get growly and territorial. We have no proof he actually would, but wolves and dogs are kind of similar, so I don’t want to chance it. Luc argues that his wolf would view a kitten as prey to be chased. That’s bullshit; he’s a softy, and I know if he’d only try, he’d be smitten. I used the final ace up my sleeve not long after we’d woken, which had been why I was in the hall when Dad caught me. I knew Luc was low-key fretting about us being in a gay relationship when his grandpa had made comments about having kids to carry on the family business. I might have blurted out that a kitten would be good training for having a child. They’re both unpredictable and messy, although at least human babies don’t have claws. Or shifter ones either, for that matter, a fact I’d been relieved to learn.
Luc’s eyes popped almost out of his head at my comment, so I’d muttered something about giving him some space to mull it over, before escaping from our tower rooms. Luc is a brooder, unlike me, so an hour with a cuppa and his own thoughts was a kindness I figured he deserved.
Full of fresh fruit and a large smoothie, I thank Pavel, then ask if I can use his printer. He keeps one in the old scullery now, ostensibly to print out recipes. He hates using Pinterest on his phone, so of course, Dad bought him a printer. Sometimes I think he loves Pavel more than anyone else in the entire world.
I print out the meme I’ve found and, chuckling to myself, scrawl a couple of lines on the paper. I duck into Eleanor’s office and nab a drawing pin, then head back to the hall where I scoot the offending box against a wall, pinning the small poster above it. Dad works too hard. I hope this will make him laugh.
Back upstairs in the tower some time later, with Luc balls deep in me, I remember for the split second before he moves and destroys all possibility of higher thought, that I was supposed to have got rid of the box. Oops.