Page 111 of The Enemy to the Living
Just as I’m about to give up and go back downstairs—no one is yelling yet, but Maurice’s low voice is getting faster with his irritation—the door swings open. Grant looks up at me with big red eyes and I wrap my arms around him before I can even remember why that might be a bad idea.
He lets out a little squeak of surprise and then, a second later, hugs me back.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter. “I shouldn’t have had it out with Vlad like that in front of everyone. This was no way for you to find out.”
Grant scoffs and shoves me back, but without any of his vampiric strength. “If you hadn’t said anything, I’d never know, would I? Come in.”
He waves me into the room and, once I’m inside, over to a chair. I’ve stayed at the base from time to time, though less often since I caved and bought a flat of my own, and looking at it, Grant’s is easily the largest bedroom in the house. It’s lushly decorated, too, and I feel bad that I didn’t take my shoes off when I originally got here because I don’t want to track dirt into this carpet.
“Don’t worry about it,” Grant says dully when he realises where I’m looking. He drops onto his bed and then collapses to one side, hugging a pillow against his front. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Grant…”
“I’m not going to be able to train, am I?” His eyes flare wide. “Or see Quinn shift, either. Vlad gives me everything, and I know I should be grateful, but—”
“Vlad’s been an absolute—” I interrupt, then cut myself off. Despite it all, I know Vlad has his own reasons for everythinghe’s been doing. He hasn’t decided to isolate Grant or keep him based on a whim.
“It doesn’t matter,” Grant says again. He squeezes his eyes shut. “He’s still my sire. I have to do what he says.”
“No, you don’t,” I scoff, and Grant’s eyes pop open. “Do you know how many vampires kill their own sires?”
“I don’t want to kill him.”
“Not the point, pup. The point is that you don’thaveto listen to him all the time. You’ve got the rest of us now. We should have been keeping a better eye on you both before, and I’m sorry we weren’t, but we’re not about to abandon you.”
“You and Maurice have your mates to spend time with. Jeremiah and Paxton can’t argue with him.”
I snort, then raise an eyebrow. “Do you want to be the one to tell Jeremiah that?” Maurice might be pissed off, but I’m sure Jeremiah is giving him a run for his money downstairs—I didn’t miss that look on his face when Maurice came and told us he and Njáll had bonded. He wants that, and finding out that Vlad has withheld information from him about the whole thing?
Oh, he’s not going to be happy.
Not to mention that he and Paxton fell head-over-heels for the little wolves they were protecting—they’re soft touches, and Grant should know that.
“Still. No one can be here all the time.”
“Are you worried about being alone with Vlad?”
Grant pulls a face. “No.”
“I’m still going to train you,” I say, “and Quinn has to check with his friends, but even if you can’t go with them all when they run, I know he wants to shift for you. And I’ll get Maurice to talk to Njáll, too. There must be other fledglings within the clan who you can spend time with.”
“You’re sure? Are you actually going to do it?”
“Yes,” I say and don’t take my eyes from Grant’s face. “I promise. Okay?”
He sniffs. He’s sitting up now, though still holding on to the pillow. “Okay.”
“Good. You might be Vlad’s turn, but at least as far as Quinn’s concerned, you’re part of my pack.”
“Pack?”
“You already knew what I used to be, didn’t you?”
Grant bites his lower lip, then nods. “Yeah,” he says in a small voice.
“How?”
He looks at me—looks about two inches above the top of my head, actually—and then away again. “Can see it,” he mutters.
