Page 18 of Bitten

“The home he had before he moved to the castle,” Cayton corrected. “Instead of here, where we should be.”

“And as I said before—there was likely chaos here with them planning such a large event. I can understand why they wanted one less thing to be underfoot,” Naro replied.

“We’re family. We shouldn’t be considered something to be underfoot,” Cayton spat.

“Stop it!” James whispered hotly. “The arguing as of late has gotten to be too much. I can’t stand it much longer.”

Naro folded his strong arms over his chest and looked away, simmering. Down further, Cayton saw his youngest, Preston, and his family pretending not to hear any of the conversation. Preston was almost as bad as Eilam in his disgust with the family. The only reason he came was to see Eilam. Cayton turned to look away again, and he saw the one person who’d never made him feel underfoot.

“I swear—I have only one cub who understands the value of family,” Cayton said. “Preston ran off and mated a McCreary. Eilam marries well, but now thinks himself better than us.” Cayton eyed this eldest boy, Maximillian, who was running the security of the event in Eilam’s place that night. “At least I have one I can rely on.”

Since the alpha had made sweeping changes in Bear Mountain, many of their interests they’d had in the valley—particularly their salmon plant—had run aground. That particular business had miraculously managed to be just outside the blast zone after a government bombing of the valley and surrounding areas—but the damage to the watershed had proved disastrous. The river was filled with dead fish. It would take a decade to be plentiful once more, if not longer. Coupled with laws passed that increased the omega wage and other labor laws, they’d nearly become destitute.

Thankfully Max’s quick thinking and early investments into Midnight had saved them all. Max had moved to Midnight almost a decade before and made a reputation for himself. Using cash loaned to him by Cayton, Max had slowly built an empire. An empire Cayton now owned a healthy percentage of.

Some years ago, Max had contracted with the king to allow him to administer the city’s entire security program.

Which had then been handed over to Eilam—as Max moved deeper into the city’s private sector. Max had a mind for business far ahead of Cayton’s and had already tripled the family’s fortune. Cayton no longer need worry about the legacy he was leaving behind, as Max had cut the bleeding and filled their coffers once more.

Eilam’s new bond to the king could open the doors even wider.

That was, if Eilam would allow more than a few seconds with the king. He refused to allow his family to be indigent. They’d already come precariously close to losing it all. Never again.

Cayton sighed, already tired of awaiting a turn to speak to the monarch. They were now family. It was a spit in his eye to make him wait.

Finally, the trio reached the end of the line—and then the music started. Instead of coming to the table, his son, Noah, and the king moved to the dance floor. He sat back in his chair, anger flaring.

“He’s avoiding me on purpose,” Cayton growled. “He knows I wish to speak to the king.”

“You’ll get your chance,” James said.

Cayton wasn’t so sure. He watched the triad sweep across the floor together, the intricate dance quite stunning. But he thought he saw a look of sadness on the king’s face. And when he saw it crossing both Eilam and Noah’s face, he wondered what was wrong in their mating so soon.

The king suddenly broke from his mates and crossed the large empty dancefloor.

Cayton rose, seeing his chance. “Excuse me.”

“Don’t,” James pleaded, giving him a glare.

“What?” Cayton asked, never taking his stare off the king’s direction. “I need to use the restroom.”

“We all know that’s a lie,” Naro said.

Cayton eyed them. “It isn’t,” he fibbed before heading straight for the door the monarch had just slipped through. He stalked closer, seeing the King’s Guardsmen closing in. Before they had a chance to stop him, he slipped inside the small salon. Just across from him, he saw the narrow profile of the king, his long, black hair trailing down his back.

“There you are,” Cayton said, plastering a smile on his face. “I haven’t had a chance to meet you yet, and it’s well past time.”

The king took a step back, lifting a hand to his neck. “And you are?”

“Cayton, ah… son of Ramiel, Elijah, and Juno,” he answered in witch fashion, trying to put the warlock at ease. “I’m one of Eilam’s fathers.”

A smile of recognition washed over the king’s face. He held out his hand, offering it regally.

Cayton stared at the hand a moment, grimacing. The king expected him to kneel and kiss that hand, he was sure of it—and he bowed to no one. No one. He wasn’t a subject of the King of Midnight. After a moment, he crossed the room and took the king’s hand, shaking it instead of offering a bow.

Just as Eilam and Noah entered the room.

“It is an honor,” Cayton spat, bending slightly over the monarch’s hand, the closest he would get to a bow.

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