Page 9 of The Forsaken Heir
“Hang on.” He blocked my path to the door, the smile on his face even brighter now. “You don’t have to be nervous. I won’t bite.”
I imagined shifting into a wolf and snapping my jaws around his wrist, and the delightful expression of horror and fear that would flash in his eyes when I did. How I would havelovedto do that. Instead, I had to use my mouth and brain to get rid of the guy.
“I said, no thanks. And I meant it.” I moved around him. “Now, please leave me alone.”
He frowned at me as I headed for the door, and I could hear the distant snort of laughter from his friends.
“Yeah, no big deal. What do I want with a chunky-ass bitch like you anyway?” He sneered.
I winked at him. “True. Your dick probably isn’tchunkyenough to match, anyway. I prefer real men.”
The door swung shut behind me, cutting off his buddies’ chortling laughter. Asshole. Sparing one last glance back through the window, I saw the guy heading back to his table, his face red.
Good. Served him right.
My apartment was a couple streets down, and when I entered, the warmth of the foyer melted away the coolness of the day outside. Our place was on the top floor. The three bedroom, two bath cost a pretty penny, especially since it was downtown, but again, my family paid the lease, so I didn’t have to worry about that.
“Welcome home,” Delphine said.
She was in the kitchen, loading dishes into the dishwasher. Her bright, platinum-blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and a dish rag hung from her shoulder.
“Hey. Want dessert first or dinner?” I asked, holding the bag up.
Delphine rolled her eyes and tossed the rag down. “You and that damn cheesecake. Don’t you get tired of the same flavor?”
“No, it’s too good,” I said. “I feel like I’ll be missing out if I try something else and it isn’t as good.”
“Screw it,” Delphine said. “Let’s have dessert first.”
While I took the cheesecake out of the box, Delphine pulled out a knife, forks and a couple small plates.
“Here,” she said, sliding the cake toward her. “Let me do this. You’ll make a mess of it.”
“I can cut it,” I argued.
She gave me a terse look before going to work on the dessert. She’d been my nanny when I left home, but her duties had ended when I turned eighteen. She’d chosen to stay with me as a companion. A friend. I didn’t know how to thank her for that. I had no one else. I’d even forced her to continue taking a salary out of my monthly stipend. She’d argued about that at first, but in the end I’d won.
“How was your day?” Delphine asked, sliding a plate toward me.
I sighed and sliced off a bite-sized piece of cheesecake with my fork. “It was fine, other than getting hit on by a douchebag right before I came home.”
“What kind ofdouchebag?” she asked, her face crinkling with distaste at the word.
Delphine was in her early fifties, but with shifters aging slower, she looked more in her early thirties. Her youthful looks didn’t change the fact that she had some more old-fashioned ideals, though. She wasn’t a huge fan of vulgarity.
“Some pretty boy business guy. You know the type. They spend more money on haircuts and skincare than most women do. Total prick.”
She frowned at my use of the word ‘prick’ but instead of saying anything took a bite.
Delphine was uncharacteristically quiet for a few minutes as we ate, then asked a few more cursory questions about my day. I frowned. Something was off. She was being weird.
“Okay,” I said, putting my fork down and crossing my arms over my chest. “What’s up?”
“Hmm?” she grunted, glancing up at me guiltily. “What do you mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean. Tell me whatever it is that’s running around in your head.”
Delphine put the fork down and slid her plate away. “All right.” She sighed. “It’s about your youngest brother Frederique.”
