Dark Stranger Immortal (The Children of the Gods #3)(16)

Palming the device, Kian watched the scene playing out on the small screen. Carol, drunk or high on something, sat on a stool with her back propped against the bar, facing a sizable audience. Encouraged by their rapt attention, she went on and on about her adventures as a highly sought after courtesan in eighteenth-century Paris.

Kian sighed. Poor, misguided Carol.

Clearly, it had escaped her notice that as fascinated as her audience had been by the tale she’d been spinning, they had also looked amused. And the fact that they hadn’t believed any of it and had thought she was either a nutcase or drunk had been obvious to everyone but her. Nevertheless, she’d broken the law by exposing her impossible age.

“Did you thrall them?” Kian asked Onegus.

“I did. But as she told the same stories the night before, the damage was done.”

To most ears, the stories were harmless, too fantastical to be taken as anything but tall tales. But there was a remote chance that their adversaries may hear of it and easily figure out what she was, putting her and the rest of the family in danger.

“Bring her in. The first time she pulled that stunt, I let her off with a warning. But this time, she will stand trial. Let Edna decide what to do with her.” Kian sighed, regretting the necessity.

Carol wasn’t malicious—just disturbed and not too bright. But he couldn’t let her endanger everyone with her behavior. Hopefully, some time spent alone in a small cell would be just the wake-up call she needed.

“Okay, this is settled then.” Onegus took his phone back and searched for the next item on his agenda. “Evidently, someone believes that Jackson, son of Mira, is thralling girls in his high school into giving him blow jobs. We got this anonymous email last night.” He handed the phone to Kian to read for himself.

Bhathian snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. “After the whipping this will earn him, I’m sure blow jobs will lose some of their appeal.”

“Jackson is innocent until proven guilty. It may be someone who holds a grudge against him. You know how boys are… and this email was clearly written by a teenager. How old is he anyway? And who does he go to school with?” Kian needed more information before bringing the kid in for questioning.

“He is sixteen, and he is a student at Zelda Mayer’s school. We have two more high schoolers there. It is a very prestigious institution, and some of LA’s most prominent families send their kids there.” Onegus sighed. “It’s just getting better, isn’t it? What if it was the mayor’s daughter or some other public figure’s kid? Not to imply that it makes a difference morally, but if she remembers anything and presses charges, it might make the evening news.

The cleanup will be a nightmare.”

“We’ll need to bring our kids in for questioning, all three at the same time. Don’t tell them the reason; I don’t want them to be able to prepare for it. And what’s more important, I don’t want Jackson’s name smeared because of a rumor. We need to interrogate each one separately to get to the bottom of this.” Kian raked his fingers through his hair. If what the email claimed was true, Jackson would stand trial for rape. If proven guilty, he would be sentenced to a whipping.

This kind of punishment seemed barbaric in this time and age, especially when administered to someone who was considered a minor in mortal terms.

But this was their law.

Kids were responsible for their actions as soon as they reached puberty.

But although the punishment was just as excruciatingly painful for an immortal as it was for a mortal, the difference was in how fast and fully an immortal healed.

“You know, I got whipped when I was that age. Since then, I’ve made damn sure that a girl wanted what I was doing to her and never assumed anything again.” Bhathian’s face contorted in a grimace. “It was a tough lesson, though. I never knew anything could hurt that bad, and I got only two.

I hated my mother for a very long time after that; couldn’t forgive her for reporting me for something I thought was trivial. She said it was the principle that mattered, and it was better I learned it before doing something worse and earning a more severe punishment.”

Hearing this story for the first time, Kian asked, “What did you do?”

“I didn’t even thrall the chit. I was kissing her and the kiss got us nice and steamy. She was moaning and clinging to me, so I got cocky and palmed her breast. I thought she was ready for second base, as they call it today. Imagine my surprise when she slapped me and ran to complain to my mother. When I tried to explain that I thought the girl wanted this, my mother saw red. ‘ Did you ask permission? ’ she asked. I was dumbfounded. ‘Is this what a man is supposed to do? Ask before every move?’ I challenged her. She looked me in the eyes and said, ‘ Yes. You don’t have to ask with words, but you ask with your actions. Did your hand linger near her breast, giving her the opportunity to brush it off? Or conversely encourage you to continue? Or did you just go for it?’ She was right, of course. Being honest with myself, I knew I didn’t want the girl to have the chance to say no, hoping she would like what I was doing and maybe even let me pull up her skirt. So I admitted my guilt, never expecting to get a whipping for my honesty. I was angry for a very long time, but eventually, I understood and internalized how important the law of consent was—mainly after a very embarrassing lecture from my uncle, explaining in graphic detail everything concerning sex. He also explained that my mother was afraid I would not adhere to the law fully unless it were branded into me. I forgave her. But I lost my trust in her. I left home as soon as I was old enough and enlisted in the Guardian force.” Bhathian looked down at his hands, his perpetual frown turning into a deep scowl.