Unlike Chow, Ronan didn’t have an academic’s patience. He wanted to corner Morgandy. He wanted to know once and for all why his one-time soul mate was acting like they had never shared a connection, like their past had never existed. But Morgandy had other plans and refused to comply. By the time Ronan got outside, Morgandy had already disappeared into The Forest, swallowed up by the trees and the dusk, which was darker than usual for this time of day.
The clouds above were sliding back and forth in the sky restlessly like they couldn’t decide in which direction to travel. They were gray, outlined in black, ripe and ominous. Obviously, a storm was brewing. Let it storm, let it rain, let the whole sky fall down for all Ronan cared, all he wanted was a bloody answer. He was about to try and follow Morgandy’s footprints in the bits of snow that were still on the ground, but out of the corner of his eye he found a better strategy.
“Nakano!”
Tired of running, Kano ignored his instinct and stayed put. He had no desire to talk to Ronan, but he also didn’t want to dwell on Jean-Paul any longer. Isn’t this what grown-ups did all the time? Choose the lesser of two evils? When Ronan caught up with him he recognized his expression—super strong, almost silent, totally taking himself too seriously. Nakano thought he had the perfect antidote. “What can I do you for on this beautiful day, chum?” he asked in a tone that was wedged perfectly between sarcasm and a friendly teasing.
It was like throwing a feather at a brick. Ronan’s expression didn’t change. “Do you know why Morgandy’s acting like he doesn’t remember me?”
Nakano tried again. “No, and honestly, mate, it’s a little long for a song title.”
Springing forward, Ronan made Nakano retreat further back into The Forest. Nakano wasn’t scared; he just didn’t feel like getting trampled. “I’m not bloody fooling around!” Ronan cried. “Ever since he got here it’s like I’m a stranger to him.”
An ex-boyfriend acting indifferent, yeah, Nakano had no idea what that was like. “Maybe you weren’t worth remembering,” he quipped. “I’ve blocked out most of the time that we spent together.”
This time when Ronan lunged forward he wrapped his hands around Nakano’s throat and lifted him two feet off the ground. He kept moving until Kano’s back was rammed into the side of a tree. “I’m trying very hard to control my temper,” Ronan growled.
Lodging several fingers in between Ronan’s hands and his throat, Kano was able to breathe. “You could’ve fooled me,” he gasped, his legs swinging freely in the air.
Coming to his senses Ronan realized what he was doing, taking out his frustration on someone who might not be entirely innocent, but who definitely didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of his wrath. He let go, and after a split second Nakano fell to the ground easily, as if he had jumped off a curb. Even still Ronan didn’t give him a moment to catch his breath before grilling him further. “What do you know about it?”
Wow, two ex-boyfriends in one day demanding answers from Nakano. He had never been so popular. “Why are you asking me? I hardly remember the guy.”
Exhibiting self-control, Ronan didn’t grab Nakano. Instead he gripped a low-hanging branch and bent it until it almost broke in two. “Because I know he’s working with David!” he explained. “Which means he’s also working with you.”
The day was turning out to be one surprise after another. Nakano had had no idea that Morgandy was now one of Them, yet another secret David was keeping from his tribe, just like his real relationship with Jean-Paul. Whatever was going on with Ronan’s ex was none of his business, and that’s how Nakano wanted to keep it. “Then I suggest you ask David, because I don’t bloody well care about Morgandy,” Nakano advised. “And we all know that David controls everything.”
Watching Kano disappear into The Forest, Ronan felt oddly relieved. It wasn’t the response he had been looking for, but at least it was honest.
It was much more than what his sister was dealing with.
“What are you doing here?” Saoirse asked.
“Is that any way to greet your boyfriend?”
Morgandy didn’t wait for a reply; he just walked into her room, hesitating only slightly when he saw Ruby sitting at her desk, her fingers gliding over an open book. “Don’t mind me,” she said. “I’m just reading about the medicinal properties of Northern European flora.”
“It’s Braille,” Saoirse explained in response to Morgandy’s quizzical look.
“Of course,” he said. “Sorry to just barge in.” Turning his back to Ruby, he took Saoirse in his arms. “But I just had to see you.”
A jumble of emotions fluttered in Saoirse’s stomach. She was delighted to see Morgandy, surprised that he had showed up unannounced, and slightly embarrassed that he was kissing her in front of Ruby. “What was that for?” she asked, pulling away from Morgandy’s kiss.
“Just a reminder that not everything is weird and complicated,” he said.
Pulling back even farther, Saoirse replied, “Well, I guess it’s nice to know that I’m not weird or complicated.”
“You’re anything but,” Morgandy confirmed, holding her closer to him.
Saoirse, however, wasn’t in the mood to kiss or hug, not because Ruby was in the room, but because she was tired of being the phantom girlfriend. “No, I’m just anonymous,” she said, plopping on her bed.
Glancing over at Ruby, who was still in the same position she had been in since he showed up, Morgandy sat next to Saoirse and spoke in a quieter voice. “Can we talk about this some other time?”
She really didn’t have to answer the question as her body language did it for her. She folded her arms and shook her head, but not one to be subtle she followed up with a verbal explanation. “No. I’m bored with this whole secret relationship thing,” she admitted. “I want to go public, you know, give the fans what they’ve been asking for, and I know the perfect venue for the reveal, at the Archangel Festival.”
“There isn’t going to be one this year,” Morgandy said, relieved, but knowing full well that he hadn’t dodged the bullet entirely.
“What do you mean there’s not going to be a festival?!” Saoirse exclaimed. “I got a swanky new dress and everything!”
Morgandy tried to grab Saoirse’s hand, but she slapped his hand away. “Sorry, but David cancelled it, said it would take away from the Tri-Centennial Celebration.”
Saoirse was so incensed by the stupid decree she didn’t notice that Morgandy had called David by his first name instead of Headmaster or that Ruby’s fingers had stopped moving. The girl turned her head slightly, suddenly more interested in her friend’s conversation than her book. “Well, that’s just bloody idiotic!” Saoirse cried.
Watching his girlfriend pace the room, Morgandy couldn’t help but smile; she really was a spitfire. “Might be, but it’s going to be announced by the end of the week,” he said. “I, um, heard it from some of the guys.”
Pouting, Saoirse plopped on the bed. “Isn’t there any way we can make him change his mind?”
Brushing her hair away from her face, Morgandy was struck once again by Saoirse’s beauty. He had nothing against being gay; he just had no idea why a guy wouldn’t want to kiss something as delicate as a girl’s lips, and so he did. “Sorry, Seersh,” he said quietly. “But from what I’ve heard, whatever David wants, David gets.”
And by the way that Ruby was leering at Morgandy and the very peculiar way that she was reacting to David’s name, it appeared that she understood that as well.
chapter 16
Michael was definitely more handsome than an angel. Yes, even an archangel. At least that’s what Ronan thought when he took a good look at the carving of the saint etched onto the mirror frame that hung in the anteroom to David’s office. Sure the depiction of Michael the archangel was heroic looking, complete with strong features, billowing hair, and a muscular body, but it lacked something. Ronan almost laughed out loud when he realized that it lacked imperfection; the archangel was fl
awless. It was hilarious because he always said his boyfriend was perfect. Staring at the dark brown oak tribute to the iconic figure, Ronan realized his Michael was better than perfect—because he was real.
“And because he’s yours.”
Ronan didn’t know who spoke the words, but when he glanced at the sculpture he saw the archangel looking up at him from the bottom of the frame, still looking perfect and heroic, but now he was smiling. Luckily, he was so transfixed by the saint’s changed expression that he didn’t see Zachariel, in the right hand corner of the frame, staring at him, his face a portrait of evil, his eyes so cold and hateful they could have frozen the sun that framed his head. It was identical to the way Vaughan looked when he entered the anteroom from David’s office.
“Ronan.”
“Fancy meeting you again, Mr. Howard,” Ronan replied, his voice as icy as the chill that clutched Vaughan’s chest. “And so soon.”
Before Vaughan could answer or exit, David opened his door, holding a small, black leather box wrapped with a single red ribbon. Unlike Vaughan, when David saw Ronan his smile didn’t fade; it actually widened. “My, my, my, the prodigal son returns.”
Unable to conceal his disgust, Ronan retorted, “Thankfully I was never your son in any sense of the word.”
If possible, David’s smile grew even wider. “Perhaps if your lovely mother would have surrendered to her true feelings and married me,” David said, “you would have benefited from my fatherly tutelage.”
At that very moment Ronan was unable to decide which man he loathed more: the man Edwige had once lived with or the one she was living with now. Looking from one vile vampire to the other, he was about to consider it a draw until David finished his sentence. “Since poor, dear Saxon was taken from you so unexpectedly when you were such a young lad.” That comment clinched it. No one could be more heinous than David.
“Regardless of when my father was taken from me,” Ronan said, his voice practically a growl, “no one, not even you, could ever be the man that he was.”
David chuckled heartily as if he were once again at a lady’s tea party in Victorian England. Ronan, like the women who had once attended those gatherings, amused him. But while this brief interlude was enjoyable, it wasn’t the reason he had left his office. “Vaughan, my good fellow,” David said, “you ran off before I had a chance to give you a token of my appreciation.”
As he took the leather box from David awkwardly, it was clear that Vaughan was not expecting a gift. “Oh, why, thank you,” he stuttered. “You’re ... you’re too kind.”
Like a benevolent benefactor, David shook his head, unwilling to accept Vaughan’s praise. “No thanks are necessary,” he replied. “The permanent contact lens implants you have supplied us with have been a great success. Think of this as a symbol of my gratitude.”
All three of them understood the significance of the gift. David never rewarded his subjects for their efforts; he expected all those beneath him to toil unceremoniously until he was satisfied with their actions. For him to bestow a gift, no matter how small, on one of his underlings meant that he or she had achieved something that even David was unable to. Ronan quickly surmised that Vaughan’s factory and these implants made it possible for non-water vamps to walk in the sun on Archangel Academy grounds without having to take any precautions to protect their eyes. Vaughan offered David’s people something David could not; he offered them independence.
Watching Vaughan bask in David’s unprecedented warmth, Ronan wondered how quickly the temperature in the room would drop if he mentioned the name of Vaughan’s live-in houseguest. Not only would David be furious that Vaughan was fraternizing with the enemy, but his enormous ego would be wounded to know that Vaughan had captured the woman he was unable to. Sensing that Ronan was contemplating revealing the secret of his living conditions, Vaughan decided it was time to make a quick exit. “I am humbled, David.”
It was now Vaughan’s turn to act as if he had been spirited back to a bygone era. Holding the box in one hand, he extended the other to his side and slowly bowed. He kept his eyes firmly fixed on the floor for a few seconds to allow David the thrill of witnessing, without question, his subservience. As Vaughan expected, the gesture delighted David, his chest puffing up like a peacock, but it was a flamboyant move that harbored an ulterior motive. Rising halfway, Vaughan nodded at David one final time and then grandly turned so he could face Ronan. Without stopping as he left the room, he whispered, “Tell Michael I hope he’s well.”
Consumed with pride that one of his flock had displayed to a member of the lower species how to behave properly in the presence of their ruler, David didn’t hear Vaughan’s comment. He merely gloated and invited Ronan into his office. Ignoring the feeling that he was walking into a trap, Ronan entered and quickly scoured the room with three of his five senses. A few seconds later he was calmer, as he didn’t see, hear, or smell anything that aroused his suspicion. He was confident when David closed the door behind him that they were the only creatures, human or otherwise, in his office. After David spoke his confidence was replaced by confusion. “I’m disappointed in you, Ronan.”
Ronan assumed he had disappointed David in many ways over the years, but couldn’t figure out which specific disappointment he was referring to at the moment. “And why is that?”
Gazing out the window, David saw there was a small tear in the green velvet drapes. He would have to get that imperfection fixed, but there were so many other things to do, so many more important things that needed to be accomplished before mending window treatments. If he folded the material slightly perhaps no one would notice the flaw. “Oliver tells me that you and Michael missed your appointments for your school physicals,” he replied as he readjusted the position of the drapes. “You know they are mandatory for all students regardless of their unique physical composition.”
That’s what he was talking about? Ronan would hardly call that a disappointment, more like a diversion, a tactic so David could have control of the conversation. Fine, let him think he’s in control. “We didn’t think there was any point,” Ronan replied, “since we all know what the final result would be.”
Satisfied that the drapery’s flaw was sufficiently hidden, David turned around, his smile courteous, condescending. “Yes, Ronan, we all know what the examination would have uncovered,” he said. “But Oliver was so looking forward to studying the two of you ... What were the words that he used? Ah yes, up close and personal.”
Ronan was sure that David’s smile had turned into a leer, and he was disgusted at the thought of Michael and himself being examined by the wizened, lecherous doctor. He chewed on his lip for a second to prevent himself from saying exactly what was on his mind: that the foul doctor was never going to get his hands on him or Michael unless it was in a fight to the death. Instead he replied, injecting his words with as little sarcasm as possible, “Tell Sutton we didn’t mean to spoil his fun.”
“He’ll be happy to hear that,” David said. “And you’ll be happy to know that Oliver submitted your results to Coach Blakeley and told him that you and Michael passed your physicals with flying colors.”
Not wishing for the meeting to be filled any longer with unnecessary chatter, Ronan decided it was time to get to the reason he had come to enemy territory in the first place. “Why doesn’t Morgandy remember me?” he asked.
One of the things David hated most was being blindsided. Another was ignoring his gut instinct. David knew Ronan hadn’t dropped by for a friendly visit; he knew the boy had come armed with a purpose, but he had let himself get distracted by unimportant issues. Now he was paying for his stupidity, for his weakness; he was standing in front of this inferior creature and being forced to hide a look of shock, a look of surprise. Enough of this acting like a child. Remember who you are, David chastised himself. Headmaster, leader, Zachariel’s chosen! When David spoke he allowed all the hatred he was feeling for himself to seep into his speech. “Because of that repulsive We
ll of yours.”
Yes, that felt better. Turning his back to Ronan, David lifted the top off of a sterling silver decanter that had a neck as long and slender as a swan’s and filled up a matching goblet with blood. He didn’t see Ronan’s reaction, but he didn’t need to; he knew such a blasphemous proclamation would elicit a powerful response. When he turned around he saw that he was right. Ronan’s entire body was fighting the urge to defend the holy icon. David knew his silence would only infuriate Ronan even more, so instead of speaking, he drank.
Ronan felt his fangs tingle as he watched David’s throat rise and fall. God, he’s such a pig, Ronan thought, drinking blood like it was brandy and not the precious liquid it was. These people really are disgusting! “The Well has nothing to do with this.”
David ran his index finger along the inside of the goblet, and when he lifted it up it was covered in blood. Just as David was about to stick his finger in his mouth, lick it clean of every crimson drop, Ronan lurched forward and grabbed his wrist, sending the metal goblet crashing to the floor. It bounced several times before careening into the leg of a chair where it stopped. And then there was no sound in the room as they both called upon willpower to adjust their next moves. Ronan commanded his fangs to stay hidden, and David, feeling the tingle in his back, begged his wings not to unfurl. This was a time for confrontation, not showmanship. It was also a time for a reminder.
With a flick of his massive wrist, David threw Ronan’s hand flying into the air, the momentum causing him to lose his balance and teeter backward. It was not that David didn’t like to be touched; he just preferred to make the first move. “Touch me again, Ronan, and I will forget that you are not used to playing the role of the scorned lover,” David seethed. “Morgandy doesn’t remember you, because when he chose to join the ranks of the more powerful, your vindictive Well wiped his memory clean.”
Unafraid Page 19