He’s not lying. If there’s one thing that Kiznitch is good at, it’s holding a grudge. Even centuries later.
“And Eli?” Keaton asks, kicking his foot up onto the other chair. “What are you doing there? You just kick Lilith out and keep him in?”
I shake my head. “What the fuck are you talking about? We were all never together. We were just fucking around, but no, I’m not.” I glare at him. “And anyway, why don’t we ever see you with anyone, hmmm? Aside from fucking the help and Angels?” For as long as we can all remember, Keaton doesn’t fuck with anyone on a serious level. They’re all disposable and are all Kiznitch. He keeps it in the family, strictly. I don’t blame him. Messing with civilians is one: boring, and two: almost always causes drama because they never understand the life we have.
“Have you checked on everyone back home?” I ask King, my knee jiggling beneath the table. We only came to Kiznitch with those of us who are at the top ranks. There’s no point bringing everyone to something that is no doubt going to have some bloodshed.
“Yeah, they’re fine. Perse is watching them all. Pregnancy has made her more over-the-top than usual, so holding down the fort there will keep her busy. Plus, when we get back, she’s throwing a baby shower and needs to organize everything—her words.” He leans forward, eyes on me, and I know what’s coming. “We do need to talk about Eli. I want him to carry on. He works our finances better than anyone I’ve ever heard of and knows exactly how to do our business. I want to run it through you before offering it to him.”
“He’s a fucking King, man. He’s not here for our books. He’s here for Kyrin’s dick and Lilith’s pussy—nothing more and nothing less. He’s as cashed up as all of us, and did I mention he’s a fucking Elite King?”
“Nah,” I murmur, my eyes flying to the entryway when I hear a door close in the house. “He’s here for something else. Just have to figure out what the fuck it is.”
My parents walk through the opening doors, followed by King’s parents. Killian’s are always late—it’s no surprise there—and Keaton’s are still on their way.
My mom takes the chair next to me, my father on the other side. Their relationship has always been tumultuous. Cartier and I both said that they’ve only ever stayed together because they have too much pride to separate.
Kauis and Dhalia, King’s parents, sit at the head of the table near King. Dhalia is quiet in general, but she’s always watching everything. A fierce protector of everything Kiznitch, she has no problem getting her hands dirty when needed.
Kauis speaks first, unbuttoning his jacket. “It seems we have run into a bit of an issue here.” All of us look around at each other, waiting for him to continue. “We’ve recently come into some information that changes everything.” My mother’s hand comes to my knee and I jolt, turning to face her. She’s already watching me with unshed tears in her eyes.
“What’d you do?” I say instantly. Mom is free-spirited and best friends with Killian’s mom, Draya. If you’ve ever met Draya before, you’ll know why this is a problem and why I have asked her what she has done.
“Son, it’s not your mother’s fault—” Kauis interrupts, but it’s too late because I know it is. It’s always her fucking fault.
“What. Did. You. Do?”
She swipes under her eyes, brushing her long raven hair over her slender shoulder. “There’s something I need to tell you all, and you’re not going to like it.” She breathes in and out. “I had a life before Kiznitch.”
I knew this. I had heard that Mom was a civilian when she came in. I’ve never known the full extent of the story, though.
“I need a drink.”
My father stands and makes his way back inside, probably to get that drink.
She continues. “There was a man before him, too, and a different best friend, much to Draya’s disgust.” She finishes that sentence with a smile on the curve of her lips.
“Cut the bullshit, Mom. Spit it out.”
She silences me with a single glare as Dad places a bottle of whiskey in front of her with two glasses. His eyes come to mine as he slowly slides one over to me.
“It’s ten in the morning.”
“You’re going to need it,” he bites out, moving back to his seat. My father is a man of few words. The closest to Kauis, King’s father, they have always balanced each other out.
Khloe pours liquid into her glass and shoots it back before filling hers and now mine. “I wasn’t a civilian, Kyrin. I was Patience, and—” She tips her head back and I watch as whiskey disappears from the glass. “Kian isn’t Cartier’s father.”