“Don’t get your panties in a bunch.” He glared at the mood killer. “Just about to bring her in.”
A hard glint entered Rainer’s eyes before he blinked it away. “You have a phone call.”
“Who?”
“Your grandfather.”
His arms tightened around Selena. He didn’t want to leave the bubble of comfort being around her created. For the first time, he had something beautiful in his life and he’d be damned if he let anything happen to her. Whatever she was didn’t matter anymore. Human or not, all he knew was he was quickly falling for this girl with her smattering of freckles and crazy copper curls. Lips in a grim line, he held Rainer’s intense gaze. A call from his grandfather could mean many things, and he didn’t like any of them.
“You shouldn’t keep him waiting,” Rainer said. “We’ll wait for you in my study.”
Reluctantly, he released Selena. If he had to face his grandfather, now was as good a time as any. And Rainer was right about not keeping him waiting. He may joke about it, but pissing off the head of the Illumenari Council wasn’t in his best interest. After placing a quick kiss on Selena’s lips to give himself courage, he padded past his uncle. He muttered every step of the way. Before he reached the limits of his hearing range, he heard Selena ask, “Italian?” He hadn’t even realized he’d slipped into a completely different language.
“Greek,” Rainer said. “I’m sorry about that. He never likes talking to his grandfather. Come in.”
The truth of it was he never liked talking to anyone in the Council. His grandfather just happened to be his least favorite of the bunch. He winced at his uncle’s amused tone. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say Rainer lived to torture him. What an honor. Shaking his head, he took the stairs to the second floor two at a time. When Rainer said phone call, he’d meant video chat. He booted up the laptop, punched in the password, and then logged on to the secure server reserved for the Illumenari. The handle G_Sloan topped the list of those online. One click and three rings later, an older version of his father and uncle came into view.
Not wanting to prolong the ordeal, he didn’t sit down. Instead, he leaned down so the webcam caught his face.
“Not like you to give me a call,” he said.
The old man sighed. He looked tired. “I’m not here as head of the Council, Dillan. I just wanted to check in on you.”
His eyebrow lifted. The man who didn’t think twice about banishing him wanted to “check on him”? Bullshit! “As you can see, I’m still breathing with all fingers and toes attached. Rainer’s doing a bang up job taking care of me.”
His grandfather frowned. He knew the expression all too well, had been on the receiving end of it numerous times. “Respect, Dillan. Learn it.”
He breathed out slowly, keeping his temper in check. “Granddad, I have other things I need to do.” Like keep Rainer from biting Selena’s head off. Who knew what they could be talking about right now?
His grandfather’s eyes closed. He reached up and pressed two fingers against his temple. When he opened his eyes again, hard steel replaced the softness. “You know what you’ve done despite your responsibilities to our family. You have a legacy to uphold, yet you seemed to have forgotten all that at the most important moment in your life. This,” he gestured behind Dillan, “is your doing. If you did your job, you wouldn’t have been banished.”
Pushing away the hurt the reminder of his failure caused, he said, “I’m sorry I’m not the favorite anymore, Granddad. You can put all your focus on Devin now. If you’re done telling me how much of a disappointment I am, I have to go. Tell Mom and Dad ‘hi’ for me.”
He logged off before his grandfather could say anything else.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Selena
Broken Hearts, Broken Parts
I followed Mr. Sloan through a kitchen with gleaming marble counter tops, honey-colored cabinets, a large center island with copper pots and pans hanging above it, and a stainless steel fridge. Mr. Sloan wore a moss-colored sweater and dark jeans, looking oh-so-casual and doubly sexy. Genes like that shouldn’t all go to one family. I could just imagine what Dillan’s parents looked like to produce someone as hot as him. I made a mental note never to tell Mr. Ego that or all hell would break loose.
We passed a sunken living room dominated by a massive white couch. I let myself imagine Dillan lounging on it, reading a book with that same intense concentration he wore the first time I’d seen him at the bookstore.
At the end of the hall, Mr. Sloan motioned for me to enter a room with huge glass windows along one side. I blinked repeatedly because of the sudden brightness compared to the more muted lighting in the living room. When my vision cleared, I gasped. In the distance, a pond gleamed where a gathering of ducks bobbed over the water’s surface. A group of geese flew by in a loose V.
“Wow,” I said. “Amazing view, Mr. Sloan.”
“Yes.” A clipped answer, not at all like the warm and inviting Mr. Sloan I knew from school. Dillan’s comment about losing his mind rang in my ears. What could have hurt this man?
In my periphery, I noticed a large frame spanning one wall. I turned to gape at a family tree with at least a hundred names. It pulled me closer, like I should know what it represented. My eyes searched the names and found Rainer Sloan and Aluara Sullivan. Most of the names carried the Sullivan last name. And Mr. Sloan’s was the only name not crossed out.
“This was my wife’s family tree.”
“You were married?” I asked when he came to my side.
“A long time ago.” A robotic answer. Cold.
“I’m sorry.”
“So am I.”
His words forced me to face him. I couldn’t believe this was the same Mr. Sloan that taught American History at Newcastle High. I barely recognized the guy who stood beside me now. He looked so withdrawn. The warmth had disappeared. His eyes stayed on the family tree, but from the deep lines at the sides of his lips, I could tell he held something back.
“Did you retire because she died?”
Icy blue eyes settled on me. I almost flinched back. Almost.
“She was the last of her family,” he said. “I keep the Sullivan family tree here to remind me betrayal can come from anyone. Even those you trust the most.”
His words scared me. I didn’t like this version of Mr. Sloan. Was that all an act? How much more lying could I take? The normal life I’d so carefully built around me seemed to crumble with each new piece of information I gathered.
“Intimidating her already, Rainer?” Dillan walked briskly into the study and moved to my side. He snaked an arm around my shoulders. “Witness the Jekyll and Hyde that is my uncle. Sunny outdoors, chilly indoors. Make sure not to swing at him or you lose an arm.”
“What did your grandfather want with you?” Mr. Sloan regarded him with the same ice he used on me.
“Oh, he just wanted to make sure I’m still the failure he thinks I am.”
The desire to defend, the need to protect, flowed through me when I heard Dillan’s self-deprecating words. “You’re not a failure.”
He planted a soft kiss on my temple. “Thanks. But that doesn’t erase the fact.”
“Enough PDA.” Mr. Sloan walked to his imposing lava stone desk opposite the framed family tree. On top, Dillan’s bandana and the needle he asked me to pull out of a tree from Mt. Rushmore waited for us. “We have much to discuss.”
I leaned closer to Dillan and whispered, “Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like this?”
“Because you won’t.” He nudged me forward. “Remember what I told you about the things that go bump in the night? Well…”
“Don’t over simplify this, Dillan,” Mr. Sloan scolded. He sat down on the leather swivel chair behind his desk and tented his fingers. “You know better.”