Liam Takes Manhattan (Elder Races #9.5)(4)

But as long as he was Lord of the Wyr, it was his job to handle it. And because he had such broad, strong shoulders, she knew that he could.

So she didn’t say anything to make it easier on him. Instead, she said, “Hold on. You made him a promise, and you have to keep it. No matter how hard it might be, we don’t break promises we make to our children. You just told him so, yourself.”

He shook his head. “Normally I would agree with you, but Liam can’t be a rebellious son and expect to be a sentinel at the same time. I won’t allow it. Sentinels obey orders. They have to, Pia.”

Of course he was right. Sentinels were responsible for carrying out Dragos’s orders, and they were responsible for the safety of the Wyr demesne. It was essential for them to be able to balance following orders with taking independent initiative when necessary.

But Dragos was only right up to a point.

“Well, he isn’t a sentinel,” she said dryly. She wasn’t quite sure how to finish that sentence—Yet? Ever?—so she left it hanging awkwardly in the silence. “I guess that means he gets to be a rebellious son right now.”

He looked at her, gold eyes blazing. “Point taken. Should I go after him?”

Dropping her head back into her hands, she scrubbed at her scalp with her fingers as she tried to think.

One of the things that made her so happy was the love she witnessed between father and son. But no matter how much love lay between them, Dragos was very much the autocrat, and Liam had already demonstrated he wasn’t responding very well to that at the moment.

Finally she replied, “I think we need to let him be. And trust him. He’s our good, sweet boy, and I know he will become a good, sweet man. Let’s not make that transition harder on him than it has to be.” Pressing her fingertips to her temples, she added, “I think.”

Dragos dropped a hand onto her shoulder and squeezed lightly. His touch steadied her as it always did, and she reached behind her to cover his fingers with her own.

Then he sat down at the dining table, rubbed his face and said, “So I guess we eat dinner.”

She nodded. “I guess we do.”

She thought she had lost her appetite, but they had a new son growing inside her, and the demands he made on her body had her rethinking that almost immediately. As Dragos picked up his knife and fork, she drew her plate back to her, and they ate their meal in thoughtful, worried silence.





Chapter Two





Most people had no idea who Liam was.

Most of the public, if they had heard of Liam Cuelebre, prince of the Wyr, would think of him as the new addition to the Cuelebre family. They might remember the baby photos that his mom and dad had released to the media not a year ago. If anything, they would expect him to be approaching toddlerhood.

Even most of the Wyr who lived in Cuelebre Tower didn’t know the tall, broad-shouldered Liam who had emerged over the last two days. After flying all night and turning over the puzzle pieces of his trap, he found an odd sort of comfort standing unrecognized in line at the Starbucks on the ground floor of the Tower.

The dark-haired girl standing in line in front of him was cute. Really cute. She wore a tunic and leggings, and her gazelle long legs were sheathed in narrow black boots.

Evidently, she thought he was pretty cute too, as she looked over her shoulder and gave him a shy smile. Male interest sparked in his tired mind. As he took a step closer and opened his mouth, someone tapped his shoulder.

When he turned, he found Hugh standing behind him. Instantly, the small pleasure of sharing a smile with a pretty girl evaporated, and the invisible trap sprang around him again.

“What’s up, sport?” Hugh asked, his plain, bony face creased in a smile.

Hugh had been his babysitter and bodyguard for several months now. Retired from active duty in the Wyr military service, Hugh had a long rangy body, lethal combat skills and a mild, soft-spoken manner, and while Liam loved the gargoyle, the last thing he ever wanted to ask a girl he’d been about to invite out on a date was if she had met his nanny yet.

He snapped, “What are you doing here? Did Mom or Dad send you?”

Hugh’s smile faded and his hand fell away. “No, I havna talked to them this morning.” His Scottish accent was usually faint, but it sounded more pronounced when he was upset. “I was just getting in line to grab a cup of coffee and saw you standing here.”

Remorse prickled Liam’s conscience. Giving up on the idea of flirting with the girl in front of him, he rubbed the back of his neck and muttered, “Sorry. I didn’t get any sleep, and I’m short-tempered right now.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Hugh said. “It’s been a tough week for everybody.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Whenever Liam thought of Constantine’s still face on the funeral pyre, he wanted to cry or fly into a rage. He had cried, in the dark of the night when he had been alone.

Con had been family too. He did not want to see the other male’s death as an opportunity. He did not.

The line moved, and the girl walked away with her drink. Liam placed his order for a cup of black coffee and Hugh did too.

As they collected their drinks, Hugh walked over to the nearby stand to stir three packets of sugar into his coffee. Liam followed and hovered near Hugh’s elbow, his thoughts and emotions as unsettled as they had been when he had left the penthouse the night before.