Page 66 of Feed Your Fiends

I love and hate the way there’s no jealousy in her voice, just sheer curiosity. Does this mean she’s beginning to trust me again?

“My mother’s sister.”

“Sylo’s mother?” she asks, getting to her knees so that her ass leaves my dick and her tits nearly suffocate me. I run my tongue up her sternum, and she shivers, falling back into position.

Why the hell would she be excited over Sylo’s mother?

“You should answer it.”

Should I?

“I never answer when she calls.” And she’d been calling since the funeral.

“Maybe you should start. She could possibly help with this mysterious brother. I mean, Madame was her sister, maybe she knows about the birth? Or at least, more than you do. Plus, you said yourself that the Auclairs never had a relationship with your mother’s family after her passing.”

“My mother never tried to have a relationship with them before her passing either. They weren’t close.”

“Still, your father hasn’t spent much time looking into them, right? Maybe they were close at some point. Maybe your father and the marriage are the reasons why they stopped being close.”

Shewantsme to pursue looking for this brother? This brother I told her my father wantsdead? Does she think I’m joking, or does she think I’ll have a change of heart once I meet him?

“I don’t know that.”

“And you won’t if you don’t accept the invitation she’s trying to offer. Think about it: if she didn’t care for your mother, why would she be trying to care for you?” “

Care for me?

“It’s just a call.”

“You don’t know that either.”

I look at the glowing screen and pick up at her urging, at her clear giddiness of getting something out of the exchange.

“Aunt Delphine,” I say once the call connects, but my eyes never waver from Elle. “It’s funny. I was just thinking about you.”

And apparently, so was Elle.

Gant

I slip into the buttery leather seat of the saloon and grip the steering wheel.

This is fine.

I drove the other night with Elle on my lap so I could drive us to my aunt’s estate in a few hours. I just need time to calibrate, for my mind and body to accept that I’m not in a Flying Spur, and I’m not flying sidelong into a lamppost. There’s no freshly leaked sex tape. No betrayal. I’m not running away from my father, who isn’t even in pursuit of me.

Yet.

It’s only a matter of time before Bart makes another appearance, and when he does, I need to feed him new information. And how am I going to get him any new information on my big brother, if I can’t even sit in a fucking car for longer than five minutes?

I strum my pale fingers on the wheel and turn to the passenger seat where I envision Elle’s red hair glowing in the sunlight streaming through the window.

Yes, she’ll be with me. Right by my side.

Phantom Elle smiles, and I try to smile back, but it’s only a wince that quickly presses into a flat line as I hold back the bile rising in my throat.

It’s fine. Everything is fine.

I squeeze my eyes shut and peel them open a second later to see that phantom Elle’s still here, her fingers creeping over mine that are gripping the gear shift for dear life. Slowly, my fingers relax beneath her featherlight touch.

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