Page 78 of The Hunt of Night

“We could be?—”

I raise my hand, shutting down whatever bullshit is about to slip from her lips. “Nothing. We have been and will always be nothing.” Exhaustion clings to every word. I’m sick and tired of doing this with her. It’s as if she thinks she’s going to wear me down eventually, but that’s never been the case.

Maybe it was my fault for going along with what our parents wanted for so long, but even then, that was only in the public eye. I never touched her—not even my hand on the small of her back as we entered a room. Nothing.

I have no desire to even glance in her direction, while Adrianna…fuck, she captures my attention without even trying, all while hating me, and that’s saying something considering how much she hated me when we first met.

It’s addicting.She’saddicting.

“Son.” My father’s voice cuts through the air and I pause at the open doorway to his office, assessing the state of him. Maybe I’m as hopeless as Vallie is because I assess him every time, hoping to gauge what mood he’s in, but it’s impossible. He’s unpredictable, and that’s the way he likes it.

A plush maroon dressing gown wraps around his shoulders, the golden emblem of the family crest stitched into the pocket at his breast. There’s a crystal glass filled with a brown liquid, which I’m certain is his favorite bourbon, in his right hand and a cigar in the left. Frameless glasses are perched on his nose, and his silvery hair is swept back off his face.

But beneath all that, I see the crinkles at his eyes, the exhaustion on his face, and the pinch to his jaw.

“Care to explain why your summons came through her?” I ask, stepping into the dated room with a pointed finger aimed in Vallie’s direction.

“I have a name,” she scoffs, and I glare at her.

“You don’t want me to use the one I’m thinking of,” I grunt, her desire to stick around irking me. “You can leave now.”

“I’m good where I am, thanks,” she smarts, folding her arms over her chest as she gives me a pointed look.

“Blood? I know we’re vampires, son, but did you have to be so…tasteless in your feast,” my father murmurs before taking a sip of the good stuff, and I turn my irritation his way.

“Unfortunately, this isn’t from a sampling with my teeth, more with my fists. The frenzied managed to get a bite of me.” I point to my neck. Even though it’s mostly healed now, I know there will be enough remnants for him to catch my drift.

His eyebrows furrow for a moment before he quickly shakes it off. “You must be depleted. Do you need?—”

“I’m good,” I interject, waving my hand dismissively. “Inconvenienced by whatever this is, but I’m sure you’ll get to the point eventually.”

“Take a seat,” he offers, pointing at the deep red and gold loveseat facing his desk. I shake my head as Vallie makes herself comfortable.

“Like I said, to the point so I can find more…satisfactory company.”

My father nods, swirling the glass in his hand as he looks from me to Vallie and back again. “I’m not entirely sure why you’re here,” he admits, and I know he will hate to admit that. Especially with an audience.

It goes straight over Vallie’s head, however, when she offers him an explanation. “Because he leaped in to fight against the frenzied.”

His eyebrows pinch as he wags his cigar between the two of us.

“Why were you off campus?”

“To look for the frenzied, as instructed by the dean, remember?” I offer, and Vallie sneers.

“Look. That’s all it was supposed to be. We delay the frenzied as long as possible, later than the usual time, and?—”

“Wait, wait, wait,” I interrupt, my pulse thundering in my ears as I stare at Vallie. “Do you want to start that again,” I rasp, my brain slowly piecing together what she’s saying.

She rolls her eyes at the inconvenience, but I don’t fucking care. “I’m sure you’re not hard of hearing, Raidy baby, keep up.”Bitch.

“We’re controlling this,” I breathe, letting the truth slip from my tongue, and it earns me another eye roll from the bitch herself.

“Of course we are.”

“How hadn’t I considered that?” My thought slips from my lips before I can rein it in, and my father sighs, lifting his glass to his lips.

“Your mother has a way of harnessing her control, son. But why does that bring you to me, Miss Drummer?” He finally takes a sip, two to be precise, which is never quite a good sign because as liquid-smooth as that bourbon is, it still burns like a bitch.

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