Page 28 of Blood and Magic
That poured water on the fire in my belly. His parents were dead? I didn’t know that. A heartbeat of silence passed between us, where I let my shame eat away at my pride. I didn’t realize I’d been so angry at him, and for what? What did I honestly know about him?
“How did they die?” I asked. The words came out quiet and soft, my ire calmed.
“The attack on the Royal Bastards,” he said. “Your father…”
Ahh. That one hurt. His family had supposedly killed my mother, though we never found her body. My father retaliated by hiring mercenaries from the Bloody Scorpions to infiltrate the Bastard homestead, taking out at least twenty of them. It was a massacre, but my father had never been known to do things by halves.
“I’m sorry,” I said, glancing at my hands to avoid his accusatory stare. “Father was cruel and heartless, not just to his enemies.”
“It’s not your fault. I only worked here to put food on my siblings’ plates,” he said, and something in his voice made it sound like he was still holding back a piece of the story. “But once a spot in the Bastards opened up, I took it. I couldn’t stay.”
“How does that work?” I asked. “More people are living at your homestead than seem to be in the Bastards.”
He nodded. “That’s right. We’re more like a…commune, I guess.”
I couldn’t help the next thing that came out of my mouth. It shot out of me like a cannon. “Are you in a cult?”
Vermillion barked a laugh and shook his head, and the sound warmed me. I liked his laugh, and I liked his smile…perhaps entirely too much.
“No,” he said. “Though it does feel that way sometimes. No. We have a leader.”
“Kodiak,” I said.
He nodded. “And those closest to him, those he trusts the most, are part of his council. That’s the RBMC. We ride together. We die together. We’ve sworn our loyalty to the colors and the club and each other.”
I narrowed my eyes, partly in contemplation and partly to taunt him. “Sounds like a cult.”
“What about you?” He raised an eyebrow. “Do you enjoy working for Vanderbilt Holdings?”
I sighed and shook my head. “I suppose I should. It put me through school. It’s paying my bills.”
“Does it feed your soul?”
I glanced at him and considered. “No. If I had my way, I’d ride every morning and draw in the afternoon.”
“Draw?” His curiosity lit up his face, his eyebrows raised, and his eyes wide. “You can draw?”
“Some.” I usually didn’t like what I created, so I had an entire shelf of sketchbooks that would never see the light of day. Some even included portraits of him, though I’d never admit that.
“Don’t be modest.” He nudged my shoulder with his. “I’d like to see them.”
“They’re nothing really. My father used to tell me art was for the poor and foolish.” I could still hear his voice in the back of my head. “‘And you’re neither,’ he’d say. He made me drop my art classes in favor of a business degree. All of the Vanderbilt siblings were expected to join Vanderbilt Holdings after graduation. All except Ava, but that’s only because she’s a lawyer.” My twin had been afforded the luxury of choosing a different path because it was more lucrative than the one I’d had thrust upon me. “I suppose if I had wanted to be pre-law instead, he might have allowed such a deviation from his plan.”
“Well, he’s dead now,” Vermillion said. “So you can do whatever you want.”
“There’s a pretty thought.” I snorted and shook my head. “Do you have a motorcycle?”
He nodded. “I do. I rode it up last week.”
I pursed my lips, considering whether to ask the next question. If he turned me down, I’d be disappointed, so perhaps?—
“Have you ever been on a bike before?”
I shook my head. “No. Father would have killed us if we’d even thought about it.”
“I could...” He stopped himself. “Never mind.”
“No, go on. Say it.” I suspected he’d been about to offer what I wanted, and I yearned to hear it.
