Page 68 of Distinctly Daray
Victor put his car in park and turned off the engine. Gathering his courage, he exited the vehicle. There was no sense in delaying his visit for even a second longer.
Victor went into the small house and heard his mother call out his name. He found her in the kitchen with his father and elder sister, Loria. They were baking something, which didn’t surprise him. Food was always being prepared in the house. It was how Victor had arrived at the Daray condo with the ability to prepare meals. His parents had insisted every child learn the basic tools necessary for their own survival.
“I can’t remember the last time you were here on a weekday,” Loria said, her green gaze shrewd as it locked on Victor’s face. “Aren’t you working today?”
“Yes, but they’re understanding if I need to take care of the occasional personal thing during work hours,” Victor said, taking a seat on a stool. It was silly, but his knees were shaky.
“You work for Council leaders,” his father stated. “The last thing you should do is ask for preferential treatment. They pay for you a job, Victor; you need to give them your best effort no matter what is going on in your personal life.”
“Yeah, why couldn’t you come over this weekend if you wanted to talk?” Loria asked. “You know everyone is here on Sundays, not that you bother to squeeze us onto your calendar that often anymore.”
“What I can’t understand is how you can get any work done with so much paint on your face,” his mother remarked. Since Victor hadn’t wanted to explain where he was going, he’d worn an average amount of make-up, which was far more than he usually applied when he was visiting the Antonovs. “Or why you need to wear it at all.”
“I like it,” Victor replied softly. That was all he planned to say on the topic. There was no use fighting with the Antonovs about his desire to wear make-up. It was a pointless battle. “I thought it’d be easier to talk to you without the entire family around. There is something I need to tell you.”
“Are you in trouble?” Loria asked.
Victor shook his head. “No. I’ve never been in trouble. Why would you assume that?”
“Because you insist on drawing as much attention to yourself as possible,” his sister retorted, her mouth pinched. “Otherwise you wouldn’t wear make-up like a woman or wear clothes that aren’t intended for men.”
Although it was on the tip of Victor’s tongue to argue that his fashion choices and his love for make-up had nothing to do with anything but pleasing himself, he refused to get distracted. He didn’t have all afternoon. The Darays needed dinner, and Victor’s chicken was already marinating.
“I met my mates,” Victor stated firmly.
His father’s eyebrows rose. “Did you saymates?”
“Yes, I have two.”
Victor’s mother rinsed her hands off in the sink and studied him as she dried them on a dishtowel. “You are not smiling. Fate’s gifts are not a choice, Victor. You have alwaysfought hard against the idea of having children, but that is your purpose in life. We were blessed with the ability to shift. We owe Fate to honor that by bringing more shifters into the world.”
“Both of my mates are men,” Victor said. “Fate gave me Cinder Lord Phillip Osdraconis and Cinder Lord Keegan Hayes as the other parts of my soul.”
“What is a Cinder Lord?” Loria asked.
“A title unique to them,” Victor explained. “It was given to them by the Lich Sentinel.”
“We will meet them,” his father insisted.
Victor blinked. “What?”
“Bring them here,” his father ordered. “You will introduce them to me and your mother.”
Shocked, Victor frowned as he wondered how to respond. He’d expected an immediate repudiation of his announcement, despite their insistence that no one should ignore Fate’s gifts. That only applied to the Antonovs’ thinking if it fit in with their other beliefs. And they did not think Fate paired men together.
“You want me to bring them here?” Victor asked stupidly.
“That is what I said,” his father replied. “You are a dutiful son and will do as you are told.”
“Um, I’ll talk to them and find out if they want to come over,” Victor managed.
“We are family, why would they not wish to visit?” his mother asked.
“I need to get back to the condo,” Victor responded, nearly tripping as he stood. “I have chicken marinating.”
“Go do the job they are paying you to do,” his father said. “We will see you soon.”
Idly wondering if he’d stepped into an alternate universe, Victor waved goodbye and rushed out to his car. The last thing he’d expected was for his parents to react calmly and extend an invitation to their home. But Victor wasn’t convinced theproposed visit was a good idea. The obedient part of him was already demanding he do as his parents had requested.
