Watching Kano disappear into The Forest, Ronan felt oddly relieved. It wasn’t the response he had been looking for, but at least it was honest.
It was much more than what his sister was dealing with.
“What are you doing here?” Saoirse asked.
“Is that any way to greet your boyfriend?”
Morgandy didn’t wait for a reply; he just walked into her room, hesitating only slightly when he saw Ruby sitting at her desk, her fingers gliding over an open book. “Don’t mind me,” she said. “I’m just reading about the medicinal properties of Northern European flora.”
“It’s Braille,” Saoirse explained in response to Morgandy’s quizzical look.
“Of course,” he said. “Sorry to just barge in.” Turning his back to Ruby, he took Saoirse in his arms.
“But I just had to see you.”
A jumble of emotions fluttered in Saoirse’s stomach. She was delighted to see Morgandy, surprised that he had showed up unannounced, and slightly embarrassed that he was kissing her in front of Ruby.
“What was that for?” she asked, pulling away from Morgandy’s kiss.
“Just a reminder that not everything is weird and complicated,” he said.
Pulling back even farther, Saoirse replied, “Well, I guess it’s nice to know that I’m not weird or complicated.”
“You’re anything but,” Morgandy confirmed, holding her closer to him.
Saoirse, however, wasn’t in the mood to kiss or hug, not because Ruby was in the room, but because she was tired of being the phantom girlfriend. “No, I’m just anonymous,” she said, plopping on her bed.
Glancing over at Ruby, who was still in the same position she had been in since he showed up, Morgandy sat next to Saoirse and spoke in a quieter voice. “Can we talk about this some other time?”
She really didn’t have to answer the question as her body language did it for her. She folded her arms and shook her head, but not one to be subtle she followed up with a verbal explanation. “No. I’m bored with this whole secret relationship thing,” she admitted. “I want to go public, you know, give the fans what they’ve been asking for, and I know the perfect venue for the reveal, at the Archangel Festival.”
“There isn’t going to be one this year,” Morgandy said, relieved, but knowing full well that he hadn’t dodged the bullet entirely.
“What do you mean there’s not going to be a festival?!” Saoirse exclaimed. “I got a swanky new dress and everything!”
Morgandy tried to grab Saoirse’s hand, but she slapped his hand away. “Sorry, but David cancelled it, said it would take away from the Tri-Centennial Celebration.”
Saoirse was so incensed by the stupid decree she didn’t notice that Morgandy had called David by his first name instead of Headmaster or that Ruby’s fingers had stopped moving. The girl turned her head slightly, suddenly more interested in her friend’s conversation than her book. “Well, that’s just bloody idiotic!” Saoirse cried.
Watching his girlfriend pace the room, Morgandy couldn’t help but smile; she really was a spitfire.
“Might be, but it’s going to be announced by the end of the week,” he said. “I, um, heard it from some of the guys.”
Pouting, Saoirse plopped on the bed. “Isn’t there any way we can make him change his mind?”
Brushing her hair away from her face, Morgandy was struck once again by Saoirse’s beauty. He had nothing against being gay; he just had no idea why a guy wouldn’t want to kiss something as delicate as a girl’s lips, and so he did. “Sorry, Seersh,” he said quietly. “But from what I’ve heard, whatever David wants, David gets.”
And by the way that Ruby was leering at Morgandy and the very peculiar way that she was reacting to David’s name, it appeared that she understood that as well.
chapter 16
Michael was definitely more handsome than an angel. Yes, even an archangel. At least that’s what Ronan thought when he took a good look at the carving of the saint etched onto the mirror frame that hung in the anteroom to David’s office. Sure the depiction of Michael the archangel was heroic looking, complete with strong features, billowing hair, and a muscular body, but it lacked something.
Ronan almost laughed out loud when he realized that it lacked imperfection; the archangel was flawless. It was hilarious because he always said his boyfriend was perfect. Staring at the dark brown oak tribute to the iconic figure, Ronan realized his Michael was better than perfect—because he was real.
“And because he’s yours.”
Ronan didn’t know who spoke the words, but when he glanced at the sculpture he saw the archangel looking up at him from the bottom of the frame, still looking perfect and heroic, but now he was smiling. Luckily, he was so transfixed by the saint’s changed expression that he didn’t see Zachariel, in the right hand corner of the frame, staring at him, his face a portrait of evil, his eyes so cold and hateful they could have frozen the sun that framed his head. It was identical to the way Vaughan looked when he entered the anteroom from David’s office.
“Ronan.”
“Fancy meeting you again, Mr. Howard,” Ronan replied, his voice as icy as the chill that clutched Vaughan’s chest. “And so soon.”
Before Vaughan could answer or exit, David opened his door, holding a small, black leather box wrapped with a single red ribbon. Unlike Vaughan, when David saw Ronan his smile didn’t fade; it actually widened. “My, my, my, the prodigal son returns.”
Unable to conceal his disgust, Ronan retorted, “Thankfully I was never your son in any sense of the word.”
If possible, David’s smile grew even wider. “Perhaps if your lovely mother would have surrendered to her true feelings and married me,” David said, “you would have benefited from my fatherly tutelage.”
At that very moment Ronan was unable to decide which man he loathed more: the man Edwige had once lived with or the one she was living with now. Looking from one vile vampire to the other, he was about to consider it a draw until David finished his sentence. “Since poor, dear Saxon was taken from you so unexpectedly when you were such a young lad.” That comment clinched it. No one could be more heinous than David.
“Regardless of when my father was taken from me,” Ronan said, his voice practically a growl, “no one, not even you, could ever be the man that he was.”
David chuckled heartily as if he were once again at a lady’s tea party in Victorian England. Ronan, like the women who had once attended those gatherings, amused him. But while this brief interlude was enjoyable, it wasn’t the reason he had left his office. “Vaughan, my good fellow,” David said, “you ran off before I had a chance to give you a token of my appreciation.”
As he took the leather box from David awkwardly, it was clear that Vaughan was not expecting a gift. “Oh, why, thank you,” he stuttered. “You’re ... you’re too kind.”
Like a benevolent benefactor, David shook his head, unwilling to accept Vaughan’s praise. “No thanks are necessary,” he replied. “The permanent contact lens implants you have supplied us with have been a great success. Think of this as a symbol of my gratitude.”
All three of them understood the significance of the gift. David never rewarded his subjects for their efforts; he expected all those beneath him to toil unceremoniously until he was satisfied with their actions. For him to bestow a gift, no matter how small, on one of his underlings meant that he or she had achieved something that even David was unable to. Ronan quickly surmised that Vaughan’s factory and these implants made it possible for non-water vamps to walk in the sun on Archangel Academy grounds without having to take any precautions to protect their eyes. Vaughan offered David’s people something David could not; he offered them independence.
Watching Vaughan bask in David’s unprecedented warmth, Ronan wondered how quickly the temperature in the room would drop if he mentioned the name of Vaughan’s live-in houseguest. Not only would David be furious
