Chapter 28

Chapter 28

ALASTAIR

A lastair didn’t bother knocking when he reached his father’s study. He stood in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets, and waited. His father sat at his heavy wooden desk, back to the door, while the pen in his hand skimmed across the paper with practiced speed.

“Callum says you wanted to talk to me. Alone,” Alastair said.

His father stopped, the pen coming to an immediate halt as he stilled.

Cassiel Salvatore deSanguine was a man used to intimidating others. He wielded his power like a weapon, demanding people defer to him and bend before his strength. Once, when he was young, Alastair had done just that, bending to his father’s will just like everyone else in his life. He had existed in the orbit of his father’s power, his very existence revolving around his father’s whims.

But that was a long time ago. Now Alastair only smiled as his father’s power filled the room and space between them. Smiled, because he knew long, long ago that his own power eclipsed his father’s. The old man was just too blind to see it.

“It’s customary to knock before entering someone’s chambers, Alastair,” his father chided, turning .

“Well…” Alastair shrugged. “Maybe if you weren’t such an ass, I would actually bother with what’s customary.”

Cassiel curled his lip in disapproval.

“What did you want?” Alastair prompted.

“What do I want? I want to talk to my son,” Cassiel said. “Is that such a crime? To want to speak to you, to know what is going on in your life?”

“You’ve never wanted that before.”

“This ‘woe is me’ act is past tiresome, Alastair,” his father told him. “I have wanted that, have always wanted that. I wasted years when you were younger trying to get you to be a part of this family.”

“So sorry it was such a waste, Father,” Alastair sneered. “But you know where I stand when it comes to this family.”

“It doesn’t always have to be this confrontational, Alastair,” Cassiel said, sounding almost a little sad. “We’re not enemies, son.”

“But not friends, either.”

Cassiel’s eyes narrowed. “You know… there will come a time when I’m gone, and you’ll be expected to take over this family. A time when my title as deSanguine will pass on to you. And it will make it much easier if you stop fighting me every step of the way.”

Alastair laughed. “Yeah, well,” he said, his words dripping in disdain, “there’s no chance in hell that’s going to happen.”

“And why not?”

“Well, first off, fuck that,” Alastair said. “Secondly, I’m not your heir. Never have been, so the title is never going to pass to me. And third, fuck that.”

“You already said that one.”

“It was important enough to bear repeating.”

Cassiel exhaled loudly, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair in irritation. “Alastair… your sister was my heir, yes. But she is no longer with us. Delilah is gone. That makes you next in line to inherit the family title.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Alastair insisted. “Callum will inherit your title. Whether you like it or not.”

Cassiel scoffed. “Oh please, son. No matter what you say, I don’t believe your brother is more powerful than you are. The title won’t transfer to him, Alastair. It will go to you.”

“That’s always been your problem,” Alastair said. “You’ve always seen him as weak. You think strength means being cruel, and Callum doesn’t have a cruel bone in his body. You’ve never bothered to consider that his kindness is what makes him stronger than me. Stronger than either of us.”

“Enough,” Cassiel said, waving Alastair’s words away. “I didn’t call you here to rehash this fight again, son.”

“Then, pray tell, why did you call me here, Dad?”

“I wanted to talk about that Witch of yours.” He waved his hand toward one of the heavy armchairs seated near his desk, motioning for Alastair to join him.

“I think I’ll stand,” Alastair said. “I don’t think this will take long…”

Irritated, Cassiel rolled his eyes. “Just sit down, for God’s sake, Alastair. I want to talk without you looming over me like this. It’s unproductive.”

Alastair took a deep breath and walked to the chair, sinking into it. There , he said to his father with a look, happy now?

“I was… surprised when you first told me about her,” Cassiel said. “Not unpleasantly surprised, mind you. I hadn’t thought you were capable of…”

“Of what?” Alastair interrupted. “Of love?”

“Of commitment,” his father answered, shooting him a glare. “With all the rumors, and with you fucking everyone from every family we ever brought here over the years, I hadn’t thought you capable of the maturity necessary for a committed relationship.”

He hadn’t fucked everyone from every family who visited the estate, Alastair thought sourly. Hadn’t even fucked all the women, let alone the men, and anyone else in between. Though, he supposed, he’d fucked enough of them that the rumors weren’t entirely untrue… A few of the men, too, come to think of it. He wondered if his father had ever heard about that. He hoped so. He hoped it made him choke.

“I was happy to hear of your relationship with her, is what I am trying to say,” Cassiel continued. “Happy again to hear that the two of you are still together after so many years. ”

“Two,” Alastair clarified. “Two years.”

“Even still.” Cassiel shifted in his seat. “I approve, Alastair. I saw her when she came before the council, you know. And she has… a fire inside her. Power. I think she is a good match for you. A good match for my son.”

Something softened in Alastair’s chest. His father approved of Fey. Liked Fey. It made him feel… good.

Huh .

“Thank you,” Alastair said, and he meant it. He’d never sought his father’s approval, never cared much whether it was given or withheld. But, somehow, hearing his father voice his approval of his love for Fey… it felt nice.

Maybe he was being too hard on him. Maybe his father had been trying, in his own way, to connect with him over the years. They hadn’t always hated each other, after all. Maybe his father did want to connect with him, want to know him and his life.

Cassiel leaned forward, placing a hand on Alastair’s shoulder. And it felt like just the right amount of parental affection. Alastair almost smiled.

Almost.

“I think we should talk seriously about marriage,” Cassiel said.

Too shocked to do anything else, Alastair barked out a laugh. “Marriage?” he repeated incredulously. “You must be joking…”

“Not at all,” Cassiel said, staring into his eyes. Goddess damn him, he was serious, wasn’t he? “I think it’s the obvious next step for the two of you, don’t you agree?”

Alastair shook his head slowly from side to side. “No, no. Fey and I haven’t discussed marriage. I don’t even know if she wants to get married.”

“Of course she does,” Cassiel said, sitting back with a bemused smile on his face. “All women do, Alastair. Some are just a little more obvious about it than others. But it’s something they all want, at the end of the day.”

Alastair laughed. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s even remotely true. I think you’re way off the mark on that one.”

Marriage? He hadn’t thought about it, he realized. He supposed if it was something Fey wanted…

But why? What would even be the point? It was an archaic ritual, one rarely practiced anymore, and certainly not one their Faction put much stake in. That had always been a Witch thing, and even then, it hadn’t been in vogue for centuries. Alastair didn’t need a mindless ceremony and a ring binding Fey to him. He loved her, heart and soul. They would spend the rest of their lives together, he had no doubt about that.

Marriage just felt unnecessary, given that. It felt insignificant compared to how he felt about her.

“It’s important,” Cassiel continued, “to acknowledge her ancestry. Consider it a way to pay homage to her ancestors. Wars were once fought over marriage, you know.”

“Oh please, her Faction knows so little about their ancestors, Father. I doubt they even remember that. And it’s not something she’s ever mentioned. I really don’t think marriage is something she’s even thought about.”

“Well, maybe you should be thinking about it, then.” Cassiel said, voice dropping slightly. “After all, once she becomes queen?—”

“Fey doesn’t want to be queen,” Alastair interrupted, frowning.

Cassiel waved away his words. “Of course she does. And she will, trust me. There’s enough chatter about it around the city to guarantee it will happen, eventually. Sooner rather than later, most likely. And once she does become queen, well… you would want to have some sort of contract binding the two of you, wouldn’t you? Something that would ensure you take the throne as her equal, and not just… not just a consort, or some such thing.”

So that was it, Alastair thought, sitting back until his back hit the chair’s cushion, a familiar feeling of disgust forming in his gut. That was what this was all about, wasn’t it?

His father wasn’t interested in Fey at all. This wasn’t some visit to bring her into the family, to get to know her. To spend time with her.

This was another chance for him to put a Salvatore on the throne—to finally guarantee his lineage turned royal. This was just another path that he started three hundred years ago when he’d crowned himself the Vampire King .

“I can’t fucking believe you,” Alastair said, stunned. “I can’t fucking believe I almost fell for your shit again.”

“And what on Earth are you talking about this time, Alastair?” Cassiel asked in a frustrated tone.

“Fey doesn’t want to be queen, Father,” Alastair said, and when Cassiel opened his mouth to argue, Alastair spoke over him. “And even if she did, I don’t want to be king. I don’t want a fucking contract ensuring that we’re equals. Because we’re not.”

He stood, staring down at his father, and bared his teeth.

“In every possible fucking way, I am not her equal,” he continued. “She is better than I am on every level. More powerful than me. Stronger than me. And if you only see her as a means to an end? If you can only see her as a way to get what you want, what you’ve always fucking wanted, then stay the fuck out of our lives.”

Alastair didn’t wait to hear his father’s response. He simply turned on his heel and left.