Feral King (The Dominant Bastard Duology 1)

“Has he said anything to you about me in the last few days?” Minnow asked carefully. “You seem angry.”

“No. He would never talk to me about you unless it was to tell me to fire you.” She laid aside her work and took a sip of her coffee. “And yes, I’m angry, but not at you. Not at him.” Absently, she straightened her apron and picked up the next carrot. “I just worry. Church and Severin have basically been my sons since they were fourteen. Sev acts like an ass, but he...had it rough in the beginning. Church’s mother, Mrs. Davis, did her best, but she couldn’t fix everything. When she got him at six he was feral. At least he can sit at a table now, and talk to people without automatically flying into a rage.” She pressed her mouth into a thin line. “I’ll always love Davis for loving my boys before I knew them.”

Minnow’s heart broke a little for the boy who had become the man. “You didn’t know Mrs. Davis?”

“No, no. I just know what Church has told me. He knows things from a child’s perspective. He remembers the rages and the destructiveness and the violence. Sev was a very angry little boy by the time the Davis family came.”

“What happened to Severin’s family?”

“Nothing. They’re alive and well in France, last we heard. Two daughters younger than Severin. The mother sends him a gift at Christmas and his birthday. Money transferred into his account, usually, because they don’t know him.”

“But...why?”

Sutton viciously sliced the carrots into a pot of water. “No one knows for sure. Well, maybe Sev knows, but he doesn’t speak of it.”

“But five? What made them give up on him so soon?”

Sutton passed behind her to the stove and put the pot on the element, then squeezed Minnow’s arm. “Who knows? He won’t see a counselor or a psychiatrist for a diagnosis. Maybe PTSD. Maybe he’s got ADHD that made him hard to handle. Maybe Asperger’s. Attachment disorder. Fetal alcohol. Bipolar. There are so many possibilities with symptoms that overlap, so your guess is as good as mine. Possibly as good as his. Whatever the reason, they dumped him here and more or less forgot about him. He’s provided for, but ignored.” She gave Minnow a pat before gathering ingredients for the piecrust for dessert.

“It’s good you’re here now, anyway. My sister needs me in Illinois while she goes through moving Joe to the nursing home. Joe’s been a hoarder for a few years, and the closets at the nursing home are so small she has no idea what to send.” She shook her head. “Hopefully she’ll let me throw out some of the shit he leaves behind at the fucking house.”

Minnow snorted. It was still shocking to her when Sutton swore.

“I made a list of what needs to be done around here. Groc

eries are delivered Wednesdays, as you know. The meal plan is posted in the pantry. You can deviate from it, but don’t get too crazy. He doesn’t like things that are unfamiliar.”

“Why does it feel like you’re leaving me with your cranky toddler?”

“Because I am.” Sutton mixed ingredients in a bowl. “Except he’s six foot six, and when he gets cranky it’s hard to put him down for a nap.”

Minnow shook with laughter.

“I don’t share my toys, either.” Severin’s low rumble came from the doorway, making her jump. How had she not noticed him standing there? He moved through life like a ghost. His quiet gaze riveted Minnow where she stood, and warmth traveled from her cheeks, to her breasts, then crept lower.

Was he implying she was his toy? If so, she damn well felt like one. Or was he just trying to join in their joking?

“Toys?” Sutton asked.

“Like Miss Korsgaard.”

Oh god. In front of Sutton? Really?

“People are not toys, Severin,” Sutton admonished lightly as she rolled out her dough.

“Some are,” he countered, his eyes never leaving Minnow’s face.

Now Sutton did look up at him, frowning. “Severin Leduc! For once in your life will you try to be a fucking gentleman?” She grabbed an apple and threw it at his face, so fast she put some pro pitchers to shame. Severin easily caught the fruit out of the air and bit into it.

“A beast with good manners is still a beast, Mother,” he grumbled sardonically. “There’s no sense in pretending I’m something pretty.” He wandered away, every bite of his apple sounding farther away.

Sutton sighed.

“He calls you Mother?” Minnow finally asked.

“Only when he’s being a sarcastic prick.” The older woman’s mouth pulled into a sad smile, her creped skin folding comfortably around her eyes. “The hardest people to love are the ones who need it most.”

*