Page 17 of Point of No Return

Lorelai Benenati.

I remember seeing her portrait among the many hung along the walls of Viserion.Skar’s mother. She passed away years ago, but the circumstances surrounding her death were vague at best.

“I was looking for you,” Skar brushes a kiss across my head, and I look at him, grateful at the interruption but confused at the sudden affection. His eyes remain locked on his father, one of his arms gripping the balcony railing at my side. Not quite touching me but effectively trapping me close to him.

“Engagement suits you both,” Tyson switches his weight from his cane to his legs, lifting the dragon’s head to the curve of my shoulder. The cold metal brushes over the black ink at the joint there, tracing over the curved lines. Just like he had the first time we met.

Skar fists the cane suddenly, swatting it away from me, only making Tyson’s grin grow wider. But the look on Skar’s face is dark enough to kill.

“Enjoy the races, Tyson.”

Skar guides me away, directing me toward another section of the balcony overlooking the tracks. He’s silent like usual, but from the tight line of his shoulders, I can tell he’s angry.

Hell, I am too, but that doesn’t change anything between us.

“Your friends find something else to gawk at?” I turn, peering over the railing with a pleasant smile plastered on my face.

Skar takes another deep swig of his drink. “They’re not my friends.”

I laugh. “I forgot you probably don’t have those.” I take his silence as a reason to continue. “If I’m going to be insulted all night, I’d like to leave.”

A muscle in Skar’s jaw ticks, and he shakes his head once. “It won’t be a problem anymore.”

I bite back the retort that’s on the tip of my tongue. My breath blows out slowly, and I focus on relaxing my grip on my glass, on releasing the tension in my shoulders. I’m no longer sweating, and the breeze sends goosebumps across my skin.

But I refuse to shiver, and I’m still too worked up to say anything other than “I need another drink” before I turn on my heel and leave him standing alone.

Chapter Ten

Skar

Ilearned to keep my temper in check years ago. But it has been a long time since I’ve been this angry. It shouldn’t bother me as much as it does, and knowing that only grates my nerves even more…

She is angry, uncomfortable. Anyone with eyes can see that. I don’t have to care about her- I don’t have totrusther- to give a shit that Jamison and Thomson had practically been eye-fucking her all night.

And no.I don’t have to care about her to have told them if they ever say another thing about her again, I’d put them six feet under. Because it doesn’t matter who she is or where she’s from.

She will be a Benenati. I’ll be damned if I let two belligerent fools insult her.

What really did me in was the fact that Tyson had all but put his hands on her for me to realize he was just trying to get a reaction from me. This entire night- the races, the mindless fucks from work, all of it- is just to get under my skin. Tyson Benenati never gave a shit about horse racing. It was my mother who dragged him along, and he stomped his feet like a child throwing a tantrum. Even then, he only came because Lorelai knew what she was doing. She made him enough money to make it worth his while.

I could fucking kill him.

“You barely had five minutes alone with her, and you’ve already scared her off.” Aleks claps my back, smelling heavily of alcohol and sex. His clothes are disheveled, and I haven’t seen the girl he came in with since Tyson scared her off.

I could lecture him about the drinking, the recklessness, but it isn’t anything he hasn’t heard from our father already. Plus I’m still too frustrated.

It’s not worth picking a fight over.

“And what the hell did you do to Dad?”

Fuck. The mention of him is nearly my last straw. I drag a hand through my hair and gaze out over the tracks as the horn sounds and the horses deploy. I didn’t see where Charlotte wandered off to, and my father has already found some other investors to chat up in the meantime.

“What do you think of her?”

His brows furrow, and he steps back, swaying as he stands upright. “Of Charlotte?” I give a curt nod. “Well, I like her. I think she’s funny and charming. Smart.” He shrugs, leaning against the balcony railing.

“You two seem close,” I say over my shoulder. I don’t know why I say it- or where it even comes from- but there’s no taking it back once I do.

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