“Maybe you should have messaged first,” Thorne said.
Kris shook his head. “He doesn’t deserve it.”
Together, they made their way up the ornate path lined with flowers and onyx sculptures of wolves, panthers and lions.
The mansion loomed over them, three stories of silent dark walls and square windows.
The air was cold but windless today. The only snow left was up in the hills.
“I have a key. But I think I’ll knock,” Kris said.
There was a slight tremor in his voice, but Thorne also heard profound determination, and an Alpha’s strength he would never again second-guess for as long as he lived.
Kris wore a white sweater and gray trousers. His long hair was done in a neat braid that hung over one shoulder.
They walked up the steps side by side, but when they got to the porch, Kris led the way. He came to the tall, black door and reached up.
The knocker was shaped like a lion’s head with the weight of the ring piercing its nose.
Kris took firm hold with his fist and pounded it three times against the door.
He stood back and waited. Once, he glanced up at Thorne, his eyes a little wider than usual, a little more open and vulnerable.
Thorne nodded with a smile, and the determination returned to Kris’s gaze.
Footsteps from within sounded. Stopped. The door opened. A man in a white shirt, black vest and black trousers peered out at them.
“Hello, Reilly,” Kris said. He turned to Thorne. “He’s our butler.”
“Sir. Kristofer! Uh, sir!” Reilly glanced over his shoulder a couple of times as if he didn’t know what to do.
“May we come in?” Kris asked.
Reilly opened the ornate screen door and let them in. “The master is in his study. I’ll inform him you are here.”
“Thank you, Reilly.” A small smile curved Kris’s lips.
Reilly looked up at Thorne, meeting his eyes, brows narrowing in question. Then he hurried off to find the master of the house.
Thorne shrugged at Kris. “Well, I guess we wait.”
“Yes.”
Thorne had never been inside the mansion before. The living room was vast with high ceilings and velvet couches and more animal sculptures everywhere Thorne looked. The huge staircase curved up and out of sight right in the middle of it all. Tiny dust motes played in dusky light from the arched windows.
Thorne reached out and clasped Kris’s hand in his own.
Soon they heard footsteps on the stairs. More than one person.
The first one to appear on the curving stairs was a young man with dark hair and a smug expression.
“That’s Mathias,” Kris whispered. “He must be on vacation from school.”
Mathias practically ran to Kris. Varian Vandergale followed.
Another young man stayed back a way, looking uncomfortable. All had black hair. Kris had been the only blond of that litter, Thorne knew.
“That’s Trigg,” Kris continued.