36. Bram

Nobility made me fucking sick.

Darkmore’s office was spinning as the fae whiskey burned through my veins, and it was funny because I wasn’t even moving.

The flickering candles around us cast dancing shadows and a warm glow, illuminating the rich mahogany of his desk. Darkmore sat behind it, judging me with his white eyes.

I was just lounging on the plush cream sofa that tried to swallow me whole, with one leg thrown over the armrest. My foot bounced restlessly, and I took another long swig from the bottle of fae whiskey Dex had gotten me, the familiar burn of the alcohol a welcome sensation amidst the suffocating order of the room.

Darkmore’s dark blond hair brushed his shoulders as he leaned forward, his hands clasped on the desk. “Give me the bottle.” He reached out a hand for my whiskey.

“No,” I scoffed, clutching the bottle harder.

“Give me the bottle, Hemlock.” His voice left no room for argument. “Now.”

“Such a fucking buzzkill,” I snarled, handing it over.

My brain felt like it was wrapped in cotton, thick and heavy. I wasn’t even sure what I was doing here. I’d planned to skip the session. Fates, it doesn”t matter now.

He merely raised an eyebrow, placing the bottle out of reach. “You”re welcome to it after our session, Hemlock. Let”s focus on why you”re here.”

I rolled my eyes, feeling a warmth in my belly from that last drink. ”Let”s not and say we did.”

Being drunk made everything distant. My problems, my pain, the shit that”s been eating at me—it”s all just out of feeling now, flickering in the dim light of my mind. I could be detached. It was peaceful that way, not to think, not to worry, not to care.

Darkmore sighed, the sound whispering through the room. ”Let’s start with Pandora.” He cleared his throat. “I mean Gravesend. You were there when she...consumed the dark magic and the soul. How did it make you feel?”

I wanted to laugh. How did it make me feel? Hysteria bubbled up inside of me, this absurd urge to just giggle at the seriousness of it all.

I smoothed a hand over my face to stifle it, but the question hung in the air. But answering it was like trying to catch one of Dex’s fucking shadows. Impossible.

A dark chuckle rumbled in my chest. “You think I care about that little?—”

“I know you do,” Darkmore interrupted, his gaze threatening. “If you didn’t, you wouldn”t have stayed there. Why the attachment to her?”

“I dunno,” I mumbled, bouncing my leg more vigorously.

“Yeah, you do.” He leaned back and arched a brow.

“I don”t like what she represents, alright? She”s everything I hate,” I seethed, my head still fuzzy.

“And yet, you can”t seem to stay away from her,” Darkmore prodded with that analyzing fucking expression.

My lips curled back in a sneer, the tattoo of wolves on my chest seeming to bristle with my rising irritation. Even Chaos was pissed. “You sound like you”re about to start assuming my feelings, Darkmore. Everyone already knows about yours in regards to her.”

His expression softened for a moment. “I”ve had thoughts of disposing Pandora”s tormentors myself—which includes you. And, as your counselor, I must refrain. We all have our roles to play, Hemlock. I want you to be better. I know you can be.”

“And if I wasn’t your student?” I slurred.

He didn’t answer. That was telling.

Scoffing, I stared at the ceiling.

“Were you worried about her?” he asked softly. “It’s okay to worry for someone, especially with what happened.”

“I hate that I was worried about her,” I gritted out through clenched teeth. “But I also hate her. She’s a noble.”

His voice turned gentle. “Tell me about your hatred for nobility, Hemlock. What is it rooted in?”

My eyes narrowed as I tilted my chin down to glare at him. “Rooted in? It”s rooted in a lifetime of fucking resentment. I was raised to hate them, to hate my brother and the mother who chose him over me.” My hand instinctively moved to my chest, fingers tracing the central wolf among the five over my shirt.

“She chose him over you how?” His questions were less irritating, and my answers were starting to come out more complex.

“She only cared for Slater.”

“He was her son,” Darkmore murmured. “Your father was once a noble, paired with Melinda, yet he cheated on her and chose Janet, your mother, over his status. He was cast out,” Darkmore explained softly.

I snorted. “That’s what lies the nobles told?”

“What lies were you told?”

Damn. My father was a liar. He had me there. I’d been told this shit all of my life, and I never questioned it. I knew for a fact that my father fucking believed his story, though.

“Look where I ended up,” I snarled, focusing on my parents. “Caught between them, a pawn in their toxic fucking relationship. They hate each other. They cheat constantly. They see me as the reason they were cast out?—”

“The reason they were caught,” Darkmore corrected, vengeance magic sparking around him.

My chest warmed at the thought that it could’ve been for me…but nobody cared enough to seek my vengeance. “Didn’t stop my father from beating his truth into me every day. Slater got to grow up pampered with his noble mother while I got stuck with our shit father. How’s that fair?”

“It’s not fair,” he assured me, and it fucking felt good to have him agree, even if he didn’t mean it.

“I…wanted to be a good demon when I was younger, and I had tried to get into a good academy but didn’t have the academic marks or noble blood like my brother, so I was denied. My own parents constantly told me I’d never amount to anything,” I spilled my fucking guts. “That’s why I fucking hate nobles.”

Shit, therapy kind of feels good. Not as good as whiskey but a close second.

“You hate them because your father hates being cast out,” he stated simply, but I shook my head.

“I’ve had enough run-ins with nobility to know you think you’re better than us.”

“There’s shitty nobles and non-nobles. The noble demons just have a louder voice,” he murmured.

“There was one noble that I loved,” I chuckled, thinking about him.

“Who and what made him different?”

“My grandpa.” Warmth flooded my heart. I hadn’t spoken of him in years. “He was... different. A noble chaos demon. He lost his fated mate long before I was born, though.” I swallowed the thick emotion in my throat. “Grandpa Harold knew what mattered—what was real. He was good to Slater and me. Died when I was seven, but he”s why I still give a damn about...about fated mates.”

Darkmore leaned forward, elbows resting on his desk, “Your brother, Slater, he grew up among nobility, being groomed for a position on the council. Yet, you also possess the same potential, Hemlock.”

My laughter rang between us. “Potential, ha! I”m the family”s dirty little demon. Blackthistle clings to his seat on the council like a lifeline. Even if I wanted to, which I don”t, there”s no place for me there.”

“But if there was, if you could carve out a place for yourself, would you take it?” Darkmore”s question made my stomach roll.

I just shook my head. “Being among nobles means living a lie.”

Darkmore”s sigh was heavy, laden with disappointment, as he gestured to my bottle of fae whiskey on his desk. “I believe you can be more, Hemlock. I”ve seen it in the way you protect what you care about, even if you won”t admit it.”

I pushed to my feet, and the room tilted. I stumbled forward, steadied myself on the edge of his desk, and snatched my bottle. The glass was cold against my skin.

“You can be more. You’re capable of it,” Darkmore repeated, his voice firm.

I tilted the bottle back and emptied it in a series of long, defiant gulps. The whiskey and fae magic burned down my throat, a liquid fire that couldn”t match the turmoil inside me. I needed to numb this fucking feeling fast.

I slammed the bottle down on the mahogany desk, the sound echoing in the candlelit office. “I am what I am, which is fucking worthless, Darkmore.” I stumbled back. “And what I am is none of your fucking business.”

“It quite literally is my business,” he stated simply. “You’re not worthless. I know that much for a fact.”

Without another word, I staggered out of his office, the door swinging shut behind me with a loud thud.

Fuck feelings. I just wanted to drown them away with alcohol like I always had.