Page 37 of Kennedy

Lewis deserved to have people who loved him and wanted the best for him and not whattheythought the best would be. Luckily, his parents had changed their minds, but Lewis had been told he needed to fully dedicate himself to his mate enough times to start believing it. It might take time for him to make friends, but he would. He and Kennedy were building a future here. That meant friends and family—and feeling safe, but they weren’t quite there yet.

Hopefully, that mess with Wallace Senior was over. If it wasn’t, Kennedy was pretty sure that Wallace Senior wouldn’t make it out of the confrontation alive. All the people gathered here loved Seymour like a brother, and since Lewis was Seymour’s actual brother, they would defend him with everything they’d been taught.

They’d been taught a lot. Kennedy had made sure of that.

* * * *

CYNTHIA WAS TERRIFYING. Lewis wasn’t sure she knew that, but there was an intensity in her that told Lewis he should stay away, no matter how friendly she was. It was a pity because he felt they could be friends, but part of him was scared she’d kill him.

She didn’t have a reason to. Lewis was pretty sure she was one of the few who’d been chosen to be a council assassin, but she wouldn’t kill indiscriminately. She worked for the council, which meant she’d go where they told her to go and that she’d kill whoever they needed to get rid of.

Lewis’s stomach churned uncomfortably. He didn’t judge Cynthia for having taken the job, just like he wouldn’t have judged Seymour if he had, but he didn’t understand it. He agreed that some people shouldn’t be allowed to live because they hurt others, but he’d never be able to kill anyone, not even the worst monster.

“You’re still on edge,” Cynthia said, her tone sounding as if she didn’t understand why.

Lewis didn’t want to offend her. She was the only one so far who’d come anywhere near him. He might find her unsettling, but she was trying. “I don’t usually go to parties,” he confessed.

Cynthia nodded. “I get it. Most people are annoying.”

Lewis barked out a laugh. “They are.”

“You’re not annoying. I don’t think I am, either.”

Lewis had no idea what a friendship between the two of them would look like, but he found himself nodding anyway. “I guess we could be. I have a flower shop in town. You should come around when you have time.”

Cynthia stared at Lewis for a moment before nodding. “I think I might. I don’t know when it will be, though. I’ll be sent on my first mission soon.”

“That’s okay. That’s why I’m telling you about the shop. Usually, you can find me there.”

As sweet as Cynthia was—and Lewis wasn’t sure he could associate that word with a professional assassin—Lewis was relieved when she left. He sucked in a breath and looked around, wondering where Kennedy was. He’d said he would grab drinks, but he still was nowhere to be seen, and Lewis was getting restless. He didn’t want to go home without telling Kennedy, but he also wasn’t sure how long he could stay here. He couldn’t just vanish, though—once had been more than enough.

Someone else dropped into the seat next to Lewis, causing his heart to jump. He pressed his palm over it, turning to glare at whoever had decided they wanted to kill him.

The man next to him didn’t look back because he was staring at someone. Lewis couldn’t tell who with the many people around, and it was none of his business.

The guy was cute. His dark hair hung down to his shoulders, framing his face even when he pushed a strand behind his ear. His eyes were just as dark, and his expression was soft. He had a mustache, and if Lewis had to be honest, even though it suited the guy, it also made him look like he had a caterpillar on top of his lip.

The man sighed. “I can’t believe he found his mate and that it’s your brother.”

Lewis blinked. “I’m sorry?”

The man gestured toward the crowd. “Kennedy. I really thought I had a chance with him, man. I was going to talk to him during the last party, but I got scared, and now, I’ve lost my chance.”

“You’re in love with Kennedy?”

The man turned toward Lewis. “Do you even listen when I talk? Because I’ve been telling you about my crush on Kennedy for so long that I’m surprised you didn’t develop one, too.”

Lewis didnotwant to think about his brother having a crush on his mate. He didn’t. All of Seymour’s attention was on Jimmy, as it should be.

“He’s so handsome,” the man said with a sigh. “And look at his shoulders. And those hands. I bet they’d feel so good on my skin.”

Lewis made a strangled sound. This had been embarrassing before, but it was getting worse, and he had no intention of listening to anyone having a wet daydream about his mate.

He didn’t care that this guy had a crush on Kennedy. Feelings couldn’t be helped. He wasn’t threatened because he knew that Kennedy only had eyes for him. If they hadn’t been mates, he might have felt insecure, but the bond between him and Kennedy was strong.

He sent feelings of confusion and amusement toward his mate, hoping to be rescued. Kennedy turned toward him. He was holding two glasses, but he’d stopped to talk to Hawthorne, so Lewis wasn’t surprised that he hadn’t come back yet.

“Your brother issolucky,” the man complained.

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