Page 64 of Lovers Fate

I grin. “You mean the circus.” He pauses, and I can tell he was hoping I wouldn’t figure out that he and Draco are part of the circus. They all are. I pieced it together. What I have seen and what Rachal told me at the club. “Circus of Freaks, right.”

He averts his gaze. He averts his gaze.

“Find out what exactly?” There is so much I don’t know. So much I want to know. Who they are, where they came from, but more importantly, who is Draco?

He shakes his head. “Never mind. It’s nothing.”

Meaning he said too much, but the question is what is he hiding? But I can’t ask because I want to know as much as I can. I’m sure he feels the same way about me.

I look around the modern house and pause at the glass railing, wondering how they keep it from being smudged by fingerprints.

“That’s where the bedrooms are,” he says, following my gaze.

“Are you sure no one is home?”

“Like I said, no one stays here.”

“But you do?”

He nods. I like space to think. So does Lazarus.”

“Who’s Lazarus?” I ask curiously. The name seems familiar, but at the same time, it doesn’t.

He clears his throat. “He’s sort of my father.”

My eyes dart to his, confused. “Sort of? How is that exactly?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean he is or isn’t. You said Draco is your uncle, and if Lazarus is his brother, then…”

“He’s my father.”

There is something that doesn’t add up, but I’m not one to pry, and the last thing I need is for him to do the same about me.

“Will he be here later?” I ask instead.

He shakes his head. “No. He’s busy with something. He’s gone most of his time. Draco and the others are working at the carnival. The closer it gets to Halloween, the busier it gets around here.”

“The shows?”

He rubs his lips together. “Something like that.” And walks to the kitchen and then says over his shoulder, “Are you thirsty?” He presses the screen on the refrigerator and the view of the inside comes to view. “We have soda, wine, water, juice, milk and…beer.”

“I’m okay.”

He opens a cabinet revealing rows of cereals of all kinds in fancy containers with wood lids. “Cereal?”

I bite my bottom lip. It’s been years since I had some. I spot what looks like Art Crispies reminding me when I would go grocery shopping a few times reminding me of the Terrifier on the box.

He grabs the exact one, sliding it out. “This one is my favorite,” he says.

My stomach growls loudly in response. I didn’t finish my food at the burger spot. I think I took two bites before Kevin showed up.

He raises his brow, holding out the container. “Hungry for some? I am but you can pick whichever one you like or I can order you whatever you want.”

I smile. “This one is fine.”

He grabs two bowls and spoons. I make myself useful and grab the milk and beat him to the counter to serve us both, like he’s my five-year-old kid brother.

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