Fire Night (Devil's Night 4.5)

“Tavi!” I burst out.

Sword in one hand, she hung with the other, her little face etched with anger.

But then she slipped and dropped, and I gasped, shooting out and catching her in my arms. “Oh, shit. What the hell?”

I cradled her, my heart in my fucking throat as I tightened my hold around her small body, my nails digging into her black embroidered pirate coat and leather boots.

I looked down, meeting her scowl. “You okay?”

“I’ll slit your throat, you dog!” And she pressed the plastic blade of her toy sword into my neck.

Oh, Jesus. I rolled my eyes.

I swung her up and tossed her over my shoulder, walking toward the kitchen.

“And you’re definitely your father’s daughter,” I teased.

Zero sense of what could’ve just happened to her. And zero care.

“Let me go!”

“Not a chance,” I retorted. “What were you thinking, huh?”

“I was sneaking up on the vermin!” she explained, trying to squirm and kick out of my hold. “He’s trying to poach me crew!”

I entered the kitchen, sidestepping the caterers, and plopped Octavia down on a side counter, out of the way.

“You need to be careful.” I looked down into her black eyes. “Do you understand?”

She dug in her eyebrows, accentuating the little scar she had over the right eye from a tumble she took when she was two.

“Your parents wouldn’t be happy if you cracked your little skull open.” I walked over to the fridge and plucked out a juice box, slipping the straw in for her. “You dad wouldn’t be able to take it. You know how much everyone loves you?”

“I’m not afraid of anything.”

I stopped and stared at her. That kind of talk could lead down a dark path I knew well.

I walked over, and instead of giving her the juice, I set it down on the counter and planted my palms on either side of her. “Look at me,” I told her. “I know you’re not afraid. But fear and caution are two different things. If anything ever happened to you, your dad wouldn’t survive it. Do you understand that?”

Barely five years old, she stared at me with a blank look on her face.

“A true captain leads by example.” I tapped her head with my finger. “A true captain uses her head, okay? Someday you’re going to learn that your life can change in a moment. Caution is smart, and smart people find a better way.”

“But how do you learn the difference between fear and caution?” a voice asked.

I stood upright again and turned, seeing Damon lingering in the doorway. He was partially dressed for tonight—black pants and shined shoes, his hair in place. But he was still missing his jacket and tie, and his white shirt had the sleeves rolled up.

“By experience,” he answered when I didn’t.

He walked over, and my spine steeled, because our parenting styles had become just another area in which we strongly disagreed. With anyone outside our family I wouldn’t care, but when my kids were used to more discipline, it was getting harder and harder to explain why his were allowed to swing from the rafters.

“And by guidance from people who know more,” I countered as he scooped up his daughter into his arms.

He looked at Octavia, cocking an eyebrow. “People who’ve surrendered to the rules and lost their imagination, he means.”

I hooded my eyes. “Does Daddy let you cross streets by yourself?” I asked her.

She sucked on her juice, knowing even at this young age not to involve herself in our dumb spats.

“Because, like I said…” I smiled bitterly at Damon. “‘Guidance from people who know more.’”

“And how do you determine those who are worth listening to?” he asked Octavia, but he was really just trying to piss me off. “You don’t. You listen to yourself.”

“And while you’re doing that,” I told her, “don’t forget to remind yourself that choices have consequences you’ll have to live with for the rest of your life. You’ll make better choices with guidance.”

“Did you?” Damon finally looked at me, our stint in prison not needing a reminder for me to understand what he meant.

Prick.

He came from a bad home. I came from a good one. We both still went to prison.

God, I hated him.

I mean, I’d definitely jump off a bridge for him, but…

He took his daughter and his self-satisfied smirk and walked out, and I fought the urge to throw something at the back of his head.

I just saved his kid’s life. Or, at least a few broken bones.

But hey…it would’ve been experience for her. Put some hair on her chest. Rawr.

I stalked out of the kitchen, the sugary vanilla scent of cookies, macarons, and other sweets filling the house as servers carried trays to the dining room.

Madden had joined Ivar in lighting the candelabras, each making their rounds around the house, and I headed into the ballroom but stopped, seeing Damon again.