Liam Takes Manhattan (Elder Races #9.5)(3)

Liam put his flattened hands on the table, on either side of his plate, and considered them. They were broad across the palm and long-fingered, like his father’s. Then he pushed to his feet, strode into the kitchen and retrieved a wineglass. When he walked back into the dining room, his parents hadn’t moved, but the atmosphere in the room had grown tense.

They watched in silence as he took the bottle of wine and poured himself a glass. Dragos’s gaze flared into incandescence.

The wine was dark red, densely rich like rubies. Experimentally, he sipped it. It was dry, with the merest hint of blackberry and cherries. Gods, it was delicious. He took a deep swallow and returned to his seat.

“When you said you wanted to talk to me, do you know what I was expecting?” he said in a conversational tone. He looked at Dragos. “I was expecting either or both of you to try to talk me out of the pact you and I made when Con was killed.”

His father lounged back in his seat, appearing to relax, but Liam knew he could move faster than almost any other Wyr, except for maybe his mom.

And him.

Dragos said, “I told you I would give you a year to prepare for a trial. Even if it goes against my better judgment, I won’t back out of that.”

“All I can think about is that a few days of that year are already gone,” Liam said. “And you want to give me a puppy.”

While his mom continued to look composed, her shoulders slumped, and he knew he had struck some kind of blow. It made his stomach hurt, but he couldn’t take the words back. There was an eight-hundred-pound elephant in the room, and his name was Liam. They had to confront it.

He picked up his glass of wine and drank again, noting how both Pia and Dragos tracked his movements and the wariness in their expressions.

“How did you feel when I got myself a glass of wine?” he asked. After waiting a beat for them to respond, he continued. “It felt wrong to you, didn’t it? You wanted to stop me.”

Pia pushed her plate away and leaned her elbows on the table. “I can’t deny it looked odd,” she replied. As she met his eyes, her own gaze was steady and unwavering. “It’s also odd for me to look up into your face when we’re standing side by side. This last growth spurt you’ve had is the most significant one yet, and we’re going to have to go through another period of adjustment. Be patient with us—we’ll get there.”

But that was just it—time was trickling away, and he didn’t think he could afford to be very patient.

His father had given him a year to prepare for the trial to become a sentinel. His dragon had flared to meet the challenge, but he needed both education and raw experience. And everywhere around him were shackles made of love and expectation.

He felt like he was living in a trap. The urge to fly away as fast and as hard as he could swept over him again.

“Thank you for supper,” he said, as he pushed his chair back and stood. “But I’m afraid I’m not very hungry again.”

“Sit down,” Dragos said. “We’re not done talking.”

He gave his father a long, level look. Whatever Dragos saw in his expression made him stand too, until they stared at each other eye to eye. Dragos’s hard cut features were shuttered, but his eyes blazed with light. Liam wondered if his own gaze blazed with the same fierce light.

Neither one backed down. The air between them boiled with heat.

Liam said in a soft, courteous voice, “I’m done talking for now. I’ll let you know when I’m ready to talk again.”

With that, he pivoted on one heel and walked out. He took the distance to the living room in long strides, but behind him, he could still hear Pia whisper, “Dragos, let him go.”

That was all he had time to hear before he pushed out the door, ran up the stairs to the roof, exploded into his Wyr form and took to the sky.

*

As soon as she heard the penthouse door settle behind Liam, Pia slumped and put her face in her hands.

“I wondered what life would be like when he reached a rebellious stage,” she muttered. “So now I know.”

She just hadn’t expected him to exercise such control. She had thought he would go through a teenage phase of shouting and slamming doors, and if anything that she and Dragos would laugh about it when they were alone.

This was something entirely different. Almost overnight, it seemed, he’d shot up in height and his shoulders expanded, while his youthful rounded features grew lean and chiseled. Always a handsome boy, he was now indisputably a handsome young man.

They only wanted the best for him. They tried to do whatever they could that would make him feel loved and happy, but tonight the appearance of maturity, along with his quiet voice, and the clenched effort in his demeanor had turned the whole encounter dark with a sense of desperation.

“This is a mistake,” Dragos growled. “I’m going to withdraw my decision.”

The tension in the room hadn’t dissipated with Liam’s departure. Dragos’s energy was boiling furiously. It felt to Pia like a raw blast of heat.

She lifted her head to look at him. Now that they were alone, he looked tired, exasperated and more than a little angry.

The events of the last week had been brutal on everyone. Bereavement was hard at any time, but Con’s death had been hardest on Dragos and the sentinels, who had lost a brother and a comrade-in-arms. Her heart ached for the tired slump in Dragos’s shoulders and the shadows under his eyes.