Chapter 7
Tris
Arthur looks like he’s about to explode in the subtlest way possible. You would think that after five years apart I wouldn’t be able to see his telltale signs of frustration, but I can still locate the infinitesimal twitch of his jaw like I can locate the freckle on the back of my left hand.
“You left without a word,” he says, his voice low and dangerous, “aborted my child, and had kids with him? They look the same age as our kid would be! How soon did you-”
“Enough,” I say, holding up my hand to stop him. I don’t want Emily and Evan to hear him speak like that. Surprisingly, he goes quiet, probably because he doesn’t want to make a scene in front of children either.
But truthfully, Arthur has no fucking idea about what happened over the past five years. These aren’t my kids, and that’s not my
husband.
When Brian took me back to Bo’Arrocon five years ago, one of the first things he did was introduce me to his husband, Stephen.
Yes, that’s right; Brian is gay. One of the gayest, actually. I knew that from the start. And Emily and Evan are their twin children,
born through surrogacy around the same time my little boy was born.
Brian and Stephen, the kind souls that they are, took me in when I left Ordan. They were there for me all throughout the pregnancy, gave me a place to live, helped me get back on my feet. I love Brian, but not in a romantic sense. And while I am Emily and Evan’s godmother and they like to call me ‘Mommy‘, they’re not mine.
Over time, I became more financially stable on my own as an artist and was able to get my own apartment when my actual son, Miles, was about six months old. But Brian and I are still as close as ever, and I spend a lot of time with the whole family.
That’s why they’re here: to support me during my exhibition. Brian is an Alpha who lived in Ordan for many years before he
moved to Bo’Arrocon, and as such, he still has properties and vehicles here in Ordan.
So actually, I’m staying with him and the kids while I’m here, which is why he’s picking me up.
But of course, I’m not going to explain that to Arthur. After the awful things he said and did, it’s far too delicious to let him think
that this is my happy little family–which, technically, it is; just not in the traditional sense–so I decide to let him stew over it.
“My life now is none of your concern,” I say with more calmness than I expected.
Arthur stiffens. I flash Brian a meaningful glance, and it only takes him a moment to figure out what’s going on. We’ve been
friends for long enough that we can practically have entire conversations with our eyes at this point.
So Brian plays along, and for my sake, he doesn’t tell Arthur the truth. Not that we’re lying or anything–we’re just… selectively omitting the truth. Arthur doesn’t deserve to know the truth anyway, in my opinion.
Arthur looks like he’s about to say something else when Evan, who’s still clutching my leg, pipes up. “Mommy, who is this?”
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#20 Bonus
“He’s handsome,” Emily says, wriggling free from Brian’s arms and sidling up next to her twin brother.
Evan wrinkles his nose. “I guess so. Is he our uncle or something?”
I exchange glances with Brian, who looks a little peeved by now. “I guess it’s… something like that,” I say, although the thought of having any relation to Arthur almost makes me gag.
Arthur is silent for a moment longer, his green eyes sweeping back and forth between the four of us. I can’t tell if he’s angry, stunned, or just downright jealous. But finally, he seems to settle on jealousy, which is pretty rich coming from him.
“So you’re the one who stole my fated mate,” he growls, swinging toward Brian now. “What kind of a man-”
“Mommy, why are they angry?” Emily whispers, tugging on my sleeve.
That seems to shut Arthur up. Even he doesn’t have the guts to start shit in front of children. Brian scoops the twins up, one on
each hip, and shoots Arthur a disdainful glance.
“Watch your tone around my children,” he says calmly before turning to me. “Are you ready to go, darling?”
I nod and turn to leave, eager to leave this whole situation behind me, but Arthur stops me with a hand on my wrist. “Wait. Can
we talk?”
The feeling of his hand on my exposed skin nearly makes my knees give out, although I’m not sure if it’s from terror or residual lust from our fated mate bond. Brian stops, glancing over at me as if to ask if I’m okay, and I hesitate for a moment.
“You owe me that much,” Arthur says, his voice quieter now. Calmer, like he’s trying to control himself.
I sigh, glancing around. It’s late, but there are still people lingering around the gallery, having gotten wind of the fact that the Alpha President is here. If I strut off now in a huff, it might cause issues in the media–and I want my exhibition to go well, so I figure I should just let Arthur have his way.
“Two minutes,” I say, holding up two fingers. “And not a second more.”
That muscle in Arthur’s jaw ticks again, but he acquiesces. I tell Brian to take the kids to the car and follow Arthur around the side
of the building, toward an alleyway. Hopefully, I don’t get murdered. Although, despite everything, I know Arthur isn’t that type.
Unless politics have really changed him that much, which is… possible, I suppose wryly.
Once we’re alone, I fold my arms across my chest and turn to face him. “What do you have to say?”
“Did you get married, abort my child, and have twins with him that quickly?” he blurts out. “Or are they-
“None of that concerns you,” I cut him off. “The clock is ticking, Arthur, Say what you have to say now before I change my mind.”
“Come back to Ordan with me.”
The laugh that slips out of me is immediate and has no humor in it whatsoever. “Come back with you?” I scoff. “What do you
want me back for? You’re about to get married, aren’t you? Or have you already gotten so used to her that you want my body
back?”
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Arthur’s eyes meet mine, and for a moment, he just stares at me incredulously. And then he laughs, and it’s then that I know I hit
a nerve
“Yes,” he says, taking a step closer to me. “Sleep with me one more time, Iris. Name your price. And if I’m satisfied, I’ll pay extra
and keep you around long–term.”
Even now,
after five years, hearing these words makes my heart bleed. So he does only want me for the physical sensation of sleeping with his fated mate. When I left, I hadn’t given myself to confront him; but hearing him say now that he only sees
s me as
a potential concubine of sorts–even more so the fact that he even thinks so low of me as if I would actually be interested in that
sort of thing–feels like a knife in my chest.
“I don’t want to be your mistress,” I growl, turning away to leave.
Suddenly, strong hands pull me back. The cold bricks of the building press into my back, firm fingers holding my wrists against
the wall.
The next moment, he kisses me.
