CHAPTER EIGHT
Thieran POV
I haven't heard from Niall in two days.
That, in itself, is suspicious.
I lie sprawled out on my bed, upside down, legs up on the headboard, when I decide to take action.
I open our chat.
Thieran: Are you having an orgy?
I stare at the screen.
The typing bubble appears immediately.
Niall: Nope. I'm a changed man.
I sit up. What?
Thieran: As if.
Niall: I'm serious. I've found the love of my life.
Okay now I'm fully sitting. Not even lounging. Sitting.
Thieran: Who's the unfortunate person?
There's a pause.
And then—
Niall: I'm bringing him tomorrow.
Attached is a blurry photo of a man slumped over, unconscious. Possiblydead. Definitely unconscious.
I gape.
Thieran: DID YOU JUST KIDNAP HIM????!!!
Two texts follow.
Niall: He's just sleeping.
Niall: Not yet.
I stare at the screen.
Oh no.
Out of all of us, Niall is the most unhinged. He has this almost psychopathic possessive streak, not everyone knows ofcourse because he's a fox and hides it underneath his smiling face and goofy character.
I send a prayer for the poor guy.
I don't even know his name yet and I already feel sorry for him.
Before I can text again, a soft voice pulls me out of my spiral.
"Ty."
I look up. By the window, half-lit by the morning sun, stands a small figure.
White hair.
Ash-grey eyes.
Nine years old.I light up instantly.
"ALLIE!!!" I launch myself off the bed and tackle him in a flurry of arms.
I grab his cheeks with both hands and chomp.
Literally.
He doesn't fight it. Just stands there.
"Ty. Please let go of my cheek," he says, the words muffled as I chomp again.
"Nooo," I groan into his skin.
"You're too cute. Let me eat you. Just a bite."
He sighs like an old man and simply wipes his cheek with the sleeve of his shirt. Unbothered.
Alaric Alden.
Youngest in the family. Born ten years after us. The result of a very confusing, very emotional fourth pregnancy that none of us saw coming.
He is small. Soft-spoken. Terrifyingly intelligent.
And the cutest thing I've ever seen.
A pair of arms loop around my waist and physically lift me off him.
"Nooo… Rami, just two more minutes," I whine, struggling in his arms.
But Rami pulls me away like I weigh nothing, placing me gently on the ground as Alaric walks toward the door.
"Aunt Mona asked me to fetch you," Allie says, tone perfectly flat.
He walks out without waiting for a response.
I dust myself off and glare at the traitor behind me.
Rami. The ruiner of moments.
"Whose side are you on?" I fold my arms.
He shrugs, effortlessly handsome in that infuriating way.
"I was merely saving someone from being eaten alive."
"But he's so cute," I protest.
"I just want to eat him up."
He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused.
"Don't you have someone you want to eat up sometimes?" I ask, the words out of my mouth before I can stop them.
He stills, doesn't answer and just looks at me.
I blink.
Oh.
Oh.
And I feel it. That pause. That drop in the air pressure. That charged silence that says more than any answer ever could.
My breath catches.
My skin flushes.
He takes one slow step forward. My pulse stutters. His gaze drops—just for a second—to my lips, then lifts again.
My whole body goes tense.
I think I've stopped breathing.
Then, quietly, he says, "I should leave."
He sounds amused.
Fucking bastard.
He turns and walks out, the soft click of the door feels like a bullet to the chest.
I stand there, rooted, and then throw myself onto the bed and begin rolling like a possessed animal.
I scream into my pillow.
I let out a muffled, drawn-out, dying dolphin screech.
I kick every pillow off the bed.
I punch the mattress.
I scream again.
He didn't say anything. But he didn't not say anything.