Chapter Twelve

Darian is just staring off into space. It would worry me, if I weren’t sort of doing the exact same thing. The only difference is that he’s staring at my plants and I’m staring at him.

We just shot up. I did some too, since it’s been a while and it felt like something I needed after what just happened.

Him storming in, thoughts ablazing. His jealousy, his anger, his possessiveness.

I shouldn’t like it, but I do, and it’s a problem. Not to mention, my plan of trying to get him to realize he doesn’t need Empyrean anymore to access his gifts backfired. Maybe I gave in too easily, who knows. I’m sure the thing with Abdiel didn’t help.

I sort of knew it wasn’t a good idea while I was doing it. But as cliché as it sounds, it really did just happen.

He saw us. The jig was up at that point. And it’s not like I’ve ever given Empyrean to anyone else before… I’m not that much of a narcissistic asshole.

Abdiel Harmony coming into my office was an unplanned gift; one that I couldn’t refuse. I’d never interacted with the kid before that day, but I would have to be deaf and blind not to notice him. He’s the kind of man who can make even the straightest of arrows bend, and ultimately snap.

And for every lingering glance I’ve given Abdiel over the years, against his knowledge, Darian has downright gawked. Metaphorically so, because my brother is a good man, and he would never wantonly check out a minor. Still, Abdiel’s been a man for at least a couple of years now… visibly.

Darian is also good at hiding his true desires from the Regnum. Not that he needs to, but there’s a certain level of politics involved in reigning over the Expanse that we never anticipated when we started The Principality. Him admitting he doesn’t want to have children is hard enough. Imagine the confusion he’d be met with if he revealed his desire for a Domestic half his age… The son of his former secret fling.

I knew Darian had an interest in Abdiel, and I seduced him anyway. But despite what Darian thinks, I didn’t do it intentionally. The kid’s innocence drew me in, beyond anything I’ve ever experienced before. It worries me, which is exactly why I’m going to avoid him at all costs, especially now that I know how Darian feels about it.

All that said, I can’t seem to forget how hearing Abdiel’s thoughts brought me to my damn knees, like only one other person ever has before.

The person sitting across from me, on the floor of my office. Propped against the couch, staring at my plants like they’re doing something exceptionally interesting.

“Is that…” his voice bursts from his lips, quiet and gradual like a puff of smoke. I can see it. I fuckin love this shit. “Is that a hybrid?”

Blinking at him, I force away the internal gushing over how damn smart he is. I hate myself for having to play down how much I adore all these qualities he possesses. But it’s better this way. It has to be.

I nod to his question. “It’s lavender aloe.”

He glances at me, sincere curiosity and fascination shimmering in his eyes, which are back to their bright sky-blue. A humble grin sweeps over my lips as I peek at the plant.

“I’m surprised it started flowering like that. It actually looks way prettier than I thought it would. But apparently, Lamiales can bond with Asparagales under proper conditions. I had to keep it in the eco-garden for a while, but now it’s just about ready to test.” He shows me a little smile I have to look away from, rubbing the back of my neck as I mutter, “I’m excited about it.”

“I can tell,” he rumbles, giving me a look that quite literally says, It’s the best blessing of my life to know you, baby. But then he clears his throat and shakes it away as fast as my uncomfortable hesitations can creep into my mind. “What will you use it for? Topical stuff?”

I nod. “Yea, definitely. But more specifically, I think it could be a great supplement for metabolic issues. It can regulate blood sugar, too…”

“For Donna and Jim,” he finishes my thought, regarding at least two of our diabetic family members. I nod again. “Wow, Drake. That’s amazing.”

I scoff away his praise. “It still needs to be tested. It might not do anything…”

“Or it might,” he says with all the confidence of a King. My eyes lift back to his. “Manifest that shit.”

I can’t help but grin, and he returns it. He sits up straight, and for a second, he looks like he might crawl over to me. I blur out my desperate desire for him to do it, and unfortunately it works, because he stands up and stretches his arms.

“I guess I’m out,” he sighs as I stand, too. He glances at the floor. Sorry for bursting in on your day like that…

You were pretty worked up, I tell him in my head, and his eyes spring. “So… Abdiel Harmony?”

“He watched us.” He blinks at me.

“Yea…”

“You were right to give him Empyrean,” he admits. “He needs Ecdysis. It was time.”

My head bobs, because it’s true. I knew it the moment Abdiel set foot in my office. The spying, his obsessive thoughts I’ve overheard about Darian, the uncertainty about his parents’ deaths and what his life stands for…

The kid was searching, and Mother led him directly to us. What it means, I still have no idea. But we’re not always meant to understand the plan. Just to follow it and have faith. The answers will come.

For some reason, my lips part to ask Darian if he’s interested in Abdiel… romantically. But I slap them shut and redirect my thoughts because what the fuck is that going to accomplish? Darian’s in charge, and we’re not a thing. None of this needs to be discussed or thought about.

He swallows visibly, then does this little shrug, turning toward the door to leave. My muscles are tensing as he unlocks it and grabs the handle. But before he turns it, he looks at me over his shoulder.

You should come for dinner more often. His eyes shimmer. Gem and Lauris miss you.

I smirk at him. Do they?

He chuckles and shakes his head, opening the door to leave. “Later, bro.”

I watch him walk away for far too long. Even after I know he’s halfway back to the Den, I’m still standing in the exact same spot.

Later.

Darian gets home later than usual.

I know he had football practice after school, but still. When I hear him stomping upstairs, I glance at the clock, and it’s almost eight-thirty.

He missed dinner.

I’m on my bed, reading, when he bursts into the room and immediately flings his backpack into the corner. My eyebrow lifts as he starts kicking his shit everywhere, practically fuming.

Normally I find his messiness funny, because I’m overly neat and I think it’s cool to have a brother who’s my best friend and so very different from me. It annoyed me at first, but at this point we’ve been sharing a room for over two years, and I’m used to being the one who cleans up after both of us. I’m fine with it.

Though right now it’s not amusing, because clearly, something’s bothering him. It’s alarming how much his mood affects mine. I was fine until he stepped into the room, and now I’m crazy tense.

“Everything okay there, champ?” I ask, eyeing him carefully as he yanks the dresser drawer open forcefully, damn near ripping the whole thing out.

“Great,” he grunts, removing some clean clothes.

“Well, that’s a fuckin lie,” I huff, and he finally looks at me. “Practice didn’t go well?”

He sucks in an audible breath, then lets it out slowly, raking his fingers through his damp hair the color of cinnamon. “Not really.”

I sit up straighter. “What happened?”

“I was distracted as fuck,” he admits quietly, as if I really give a fuck about football and would judge him on something like that. “I fumbled twice. Got my ass tackled more times than I could count. Coach wasn’t pleased.”

“So? It’s just practice. Not like it was a game.” I give him a look like this should be obvious.

“That’s not the point, Drake.” He shakes his head. “We’re playing the ’cudas next week. I need to be on top of my game, and I can’t fucking focus.” He slams the drawer shut hard enough that all the shit on top of the dresser rattles around.

“Why can’t you focus?” I tilt my head. “What’s wrong? Maybe I can help.”

“You can’t,” he says dismissively, tugging his t-shirt over his head. “I’ve got it under control.”

He tosses the shirt, which lands nowhere near the hamper, but I can’t even be bothered by it because I’m too busy staring at the bruises on his ribcage. They’re shaped like fingerprints…

He slips a new shirt on, cutting off my line of sight, but the image is burned into my brain. Putting my book down, I scoot off the bed and stand up, watching him closely.

“You have what under control, Darian?” My tone is firm, enough that his eyes widen at me.

He’s frozen for only a second before he brushes me off. “Nothing. Just… my life. My problems. I’m fine, Drake. It was just a bad day.”

Eyeing him, I ask, “Are you sure?”

“Yea,” he answers too fast, nodding too much. “I just… I’m sorry I missed dinner. I hope Dan wasn’t pissed.”

My eyes narrow. “Who gives a fuck about that asshole…”

He blinks, his brows pulling together in such a vulnerable expression, he looks like he could break down at any moment. “Yea…”

I step closer to him. “Darian, please… Tell me you’re okay. Just…” I stop to work out my thoughts. I don’t know anything. I have no evidence of anything at all, and this is the first time I’m noticing it. But now that it’s in my head, it won’t leave. “If something’s wrong, you have to promise to tell me, okay?”

His Adam’s apple dipping in his throat catches my peripheral, but I can’t stop watching his face. He looks distraught. He’s not fine, despite what he says. Far from it.

Please, God…

Let me be wrong.

My mind sifts through an inventory of things that never clicked until right now.

How much attention Dan pays him.

The occasional bruises in strange places, even for a football player.

The alone time…

When I was younger, it made me jealous; the fact that my foster father spent his time with the new addition to the family rather than me. I always hated Dan, but still… He’s the closest thing we have to a dad.

When Darian arrived, he was bigger than me. He’s interested in sports, and I’m not. Dan clearly loves him and hates me. I made my peace with it over the past couple years. And as I grew up, got taller and bigger, gained some confidence in myself and one amazing brother, I stopped giving a fuck what that asshole thinks.

But Darian is different. He’s been searching for a father his entire life. He’s desperate for one.

If that fucking scumbag took advantage of him, I swear to God…

“I will,” Darian breathes, blinking his ocean eyes at me.

“Promise.” It should be a question, but it comes out more like a demand.

He nods, hesitantly. “I promise. But you have to promise something to me…”

“Anything,” I whisper, sounding way less manly than I’d like to.

“Promise you’ll never leave me…” he pleads. He clears his throat, glancing at the floor for just a moment before his eyes are back with me. “Promise you’ll always be my brother, no matter what happens.”

I have the strongest urge I’ll never understand to hug him in this moment, and it confuses me down to my core. My mind spins and whips up the need inside me, making sure I believe it’s just compassion and empathy for my brother, though deep in a strange corner of my heart, I don’t think that’s all it is.

Instead of holding him like I want to when I shouldn’t, I just extend my hand, pinky out, and murmur, “I promise.”

The first bit of relief I’ve seen since he got home flashes in his eyes, his lips twisting only a little as he reaches out, curling his pinky around mine.

We pinky swear on it, and that’s it. It’s done.

I’ve made a promise I have no intention of breaking, ever.

Despite anything that may come to us in the future, he’s my brother. I’ll never leave him, and I won’t deny the need to end any lives for him. He’s that important, after all.

Darian is heart and home. The first ones I’ve ever had.