Dragon Heartstring(4)

It was obvious he still held reservations about the mingling of the species. And while Jessen had assured me he had changed his beliefs about Morgonkind being inferior, I wasn’t so sure. I wanted to show him how well Morgons and humans could mix, coexist, thrive. But it wasn’t my place to educate the likes of Demetrius Cade on social politics. Nor did I care to make it my mission to change the mind of an obstinate man such as him.

“Open mine, Julian,” said Sorcha at the center of the crowd. Her mate, Lorian Nightwing, Lucius’s brother, stood at her back, his grave expression in place as always. Funny, but he and Demetrius looked almost like a mirror of one another, except Demetrius was an outsider here. At least he seemed to feel that way. I could tell by his posture, but also his stance, a little farther from everyone else, his hands in his pants pocket. The fact that he wore a full suit and tie to a little boy’s birthday party would also set him apart.

“Thank you, Aunt Sorcha.” Julian took the long, rainbow-wrapped box from her and proceeded to rip off the wrapping. He flipped open the top lid to reveal a long, gold-handled sword.

“Woohoo!” he yelled, lifting the sword by the hilt and waving it around.

“Whoa, there,” said Lucius, taking it from him.

“What the hell, Sorcha?” said Jessen. “He’s only three.”

“He’s a warrior. Aren’t you, my Julian?” She tickled him in the ribs. He giggled.

“There is no way I’m—” Jessen started.

“It’s plastic,” said Lucius, slapping the flat of the blade against his palm.

“What? You thought I’d give him a real sword, Jessen?” Sorcha scoffed and feigned shock. “He’s only three. Jeez.”

Snickers drifted through the crowd. Jessen rolled her eyes and passed Julian another gift, a similar shape to Sorcha’s box.

“Not another sword, I hope, brother,” said Jessen, reading the tag.

A few eyes swiveled to him. He shook his head, a corner of his mouth quirking up one side, the bare hint of a dimple showing. I’d never seen a full smile on this man, but I bet he’d wear it well along with his expensive suit, broad shoulders, and tousled black hair.

Exasperated with my wandering eye, I shifted my focus to Julian.

He tore into the package and stood the box up to examine the picture on the side. “Whoa! It’s a dragon?”

Demetrius stepped forward cautiously. “Yes. Well, it’s a kite. But not just any kite.” He pointed to the picture. “It has multiple moving parts, so the dragon looks alive when you fly him through the sky.”

“That is so cool! Did you see that, Dad?”

“I did,” said Lucius in his ever-calm demeanor.

I caught the fleeting exchange between the two men. There had been animosity between them when Jessen had been injured by that bastard she was betrothed to marry. Jessen had told me that Lucius had long forgiven Demetrius, but it seemed they were still none too friendly.

Jessen often confided in me about her family. Since Sorcha had little patience for familial issues and Jessen feared raising Lucius’s temper over the matter, she’d tell me of her father, the days of her childhood when he was kinder, and how she longed to mend their relationship. She’d talk of her brother who’d been the mirror image of their work-driven father all their lives, who’d been walking in their father’s footsteps to be every bit the tyrant he was until that fateful day Aron Grayson, who was then Demetrius’s friend, nearly killed her. And some days, she would tell me how Demetrius had changed over the past few years. He had become more attentive to her and Julian and seemed to be trying to bridge the painful gap that had formed between Jessen and her family. He’d even brought their younger sister, Moira, on their park visits when their father had expressly forbidden Jessen from seeing her sister again. This is what perplexed me as I studied him now, closed off with a stern and cold demeanor. I wondered if Jessen was fooled, and his kindness only extended to her and to Julian.

“We’ll fly it next time we go to the park,” said Demetrius.

“Oh, yes. Please, Momma! Let’s go tomorrow. Please!”

Jessen laughed. “We’ll see. Now open your other presents.”

The party-goers talked amongst themselves as Julian tore through his other gifts. Two boutique girls, one human and one Morgon, who worked in one of the Nightwing shops, stood in front of me, huddled close together and whispering back and forth.

“That’s her brother?” asked the curvy blonde.

“Where has she been hiding him? Heavens, that suit fits him so good,” said the brunette Morgon, ruffling her dark green wings.

The blonde tittered. “I’d like to see him without the suit.”

“He smells divine. What cologne is that?”

“Money, honey. He’s got loads of it. He’s Pritchard Cade’s son.”

Irritated, I moved away from them, which brought me closer to Demetrius. Yes, the man was gorgeous to be sure, but he was also a headstrong, haughty businessman with no feelings for anything but what might put more power in his pocket. The kinder brother Jessen doted on wasn’t the same man the rest of Gladium knew. Why, even last week, I saw a photo of him in the society column of The Gladium Post standing with a glass of champagne in his hand next to three other gentlemen who were laughing with two beautiful women. But not him. He seemed to be snubbing them. And beneath the column, the caption read, Demetrius Cade, Director of Cade Technologies, is the most eligible and the most disinterested bachelor in all the province.