Page 41 of Tethered Souls
Our cousin. Uncle Myers’ son. He’s practically our eighth brother. His word is reliable. Still, I’ll not kill a capo without being utterly certain, not when we’re on the verge of a war and need all the soldiers we have. And Lincoln is a damn good fighter.
“I want evidence.”
He nods and heads for the door. I watch him go, words burning my tongue, but I swallow them down. A reaper needs to be able to kill anyone, family included, and so he has always kept a bit of distance from us. I will not ask him to broaden that gap.
Stopping at the door, he says, “Don’t do anything stupid, Varius.”
And then he’s gone, leaving me alone with my paranoia, my dark thoughts, and my cold plate of waffles.
Twelve
HER
Within a week and a half, I’m utterly exhausted in every sense of the word. I’m up at five or six in the morning to make breakfast, depending on what Lord Varius desires that day. Then I help with the cleaning. Since Sau can’t use her magic anymore, I end up doing most of the work simply because I’m faster. But to slow down means I’ll get a shorter nap, andgodsdo I need my noontime nap before I begin my lessons on how to be a lady in the Shadow household.
I have to have great postureall the time.Including when I’m on the toilet. Sau doesn’t go in with me, but somehow she still knows and will zap me with her magic. And then Khalid will find out, and he made it really fucking clear on day one that if Sau uses her magic at all because of me, he will hold me responsible.
So I’m constantly on edge, my sixth sense on overdrive, screaming, “Danger, danger, danger!” every second Khalid is in the house. At four or five, we start making dinner. I am not the best cook and live on packet noodles and take away, so to say it’s been easy learning is like saying my ass and vagina have gotten used to Varius’ dick – a blatant fucking lie.
I’m learning how to do “professional looking” make-up, whichouchbut fair. I’ve only ever learned the basics to help Dayne when he wanted to try crossdressing, and he soon out-learned me anyway. I’m learning how to walk more sensually and less like an assassin, how to smile just the right amount of pleasing, how to wear high heels and long dresses that are designed to limit movement. I’m learning how to laugh so it sounds like bells, how to keep my voice level even when I’m pissed. It’s a miracle Sau hasn’t killed me herself, though, with how badly I’m progressing.
The only thing that Iamexcelling at is learning all the parts of the business – or rather, the bare basics. I won’t learn the more in-depth stuff until after we’re married in case I don’t become part of the Family. Though honestly, I don’t see why it matters either way. If our engagement falls through, I’m dead, and any secrets I learn will die with me.
But I’ve memorized the faces, backstories, innate powers, likes and dislikes, dietary requirements, et cetera of all his capos, and I’ve met all his brothers but Talon. He’s currently ‘out’ – on business I am not yet trusted enough to know.
At the engagement party, I’ll meet all the big players, and I am expected to make them feel both like I’ll service them in every way while also remaining untouchable. A desire, a fantasy that will never happen. So of course, I then have to learn how to put a stop to a man’s advances without punching him in the nose or setting his dick on fire – two of my current preferred methods.
After dinner, I help clean up, and then I go to Varius’ room. A few hours later, I hobble and stumble back to my own, one hand on the wall, my pussy thoroughly wrecked and my legs incapable of supporting me on their own. By that point, it’s after midnight, and I’m to be up in a few hours to start the cycle all over again.
“I’m not joking, Dayne,” I mutter into my phone at five in the morning on day ten. My eyes are heavily bagged, so I’m dutifully putting on my make-up. Gods forbid, I do thisafterI make seven men their breakfast, but a lady must look the part at all times. Shit, if Varius ever wants me to sleep in his bed, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. “I’m actually researching ways to jumpstart and then elongate my period just so I can sleep,” I say.
He laughs, and I’m so tired, I’m not even mad.
“Is he seriously lasting hours every night? Because that’s impressive.”
“Not really. He comes in a few minutes, then does...other stuff until he’s ready again. I need to introduce him to naps in between. Or quickies.” Yawning, I accidentally jab myself in the eye with whatever this make-up stick thing is called. I pull it away to look at it, and then I curse. It’s mascara. I’m putting fucking mascara on my skin.
Dammit.
Dropping the thing on the counter in disgust, I turn on the tap and start scrubbing at my face.
“So has he got it in all the way yet?” Dayne asks.
I snort. “No. Not even close. He’ll literally become Vlad the Impaler if he tries.”
His laughter rings out and doesn’t stop until I manage to remove all the black gunk from under my eyes. I stare at my reflection, trying to decide if how I look is good enough but knowing it isn’t. Sighing, I reach for the foundation.
“Our stint in North Korea was better than this,” I mutter.
“You mean that time we ended up with a whole country after us and our healthy asses plus my utter whiteness stood out?”
“Mmm.” I flick the brush of foundation across my cheeks in small back and forth strokes. Given I’m half Vietnamese, half white, I didn’t exactly fit in skin-wise either, but Dayne might as well have been a Christmas tree at an Easter party. He nearly got shot so many times.
“It can’t be that bad,” he says sympathetically.
“It’s worse. At least then I got to kill people. Here, I can’t even yell.”
“Maybe you can go to the gym?”
