Silversong (The Fable Series, Book 3)

Chapter 19

This is an episode from one of my favourite animes ever - Bleach.

Soul Reaper Rangiku Matsumoto is on screen, her long strawberry blonde hair spilling over her insanely ample bosom, where it peeks out from under her black robes and pale pink scarf as she runs on the battlefield. She must be a J cup at least, her impossibly large watermelon rack bouncing with every step.

"Goodness," Alastaire exclaims breathlessly. "Her breasts cannot be real".

"Uh, no shit," Ben says. "It's an anime, Al. She's literally animated."

"You know what I mean, Benji boy," Alastaire says airily, his eyes still glued to the screen.

"Felix up in his room?" Kitty asks the boys, and Lyall nods.

"Takin' a shower, I think," he says.

"K, I'll go and light a fire under his ass," Kitty says. "I wanna get to the club before nine. You two - go get dressed! And where's Elliot?"

"He'll meet us at the club," Ben says. "He's at Sim- uh...someone's house."

"Cool, cool," Kitty says. "Ash, wanna come with? You might get to see Felix half naked as he gets out of the shower."

She wiggles her eyebrow playfully, giggling as my face turns bright red.

"Cupsy's coming with me, actually," Alastaire says, grabbing my hand and practically dragging me towards the glass spiral staircase. "I need help deciding what to wear tonight. And besides, Ms. Cuppington - I want to show you my boudoir."

"Ms. Cuppington?" I giggle, loving the ridiculous new variations on my old 'Cupcake' nickname. He's getting very inventive.

"Yes, just changing it up, keeping things fresh," Alastaire says as he steers me up the stairs.

Honestly, I'm curious to see his bedroom, so I don't mind how pushy he's being.

Up on the second level, the boys' bedrooms are all along a wide corridor. There is another set of stairs at the end of the passageway, which I'm assuming leads up to Felix's loft. Kitty, walking alongside us, carries on that way and shouts "keep your hands to yourself, Casanova!" behind her at Alastaire as she disappears up the stairs.

Alastaire opens the door to his massive bedroom and we step inside, closing the door behind us. His bedroom is exactly as I pictured it - lots of creamy white velvet and silks, and ornate gold detailing everywhere. There's a four poster bed in the centre of the room and a small lounge area, with plush ivory-upholstered armchairs and a chaise longue arranged around a glass coffee table. Next to the four poster bed is another four poster bed, a perfect replica of the first but a fraction of the size - a dog bed, I think.

The only thing that isn't as I pictured is the colour of the walls and the ceiling. They are painted a vivid, intense sky blue - giving the entire room a celestial feel in combination with the cloudy whites and angelic golds.

My eyes are drawn to a giant framed photograph above the Victorian fireplace. I remember seeing this photo online a few years ago - back when Mia was alive, I think.

It's from a photoshoot Alastaire did for the September issue of some big magazine, maybe Vogue or Rolling Stone. He's in a luxurious, airy room bathing in a claw-footed bathtub overflowing with champagne and foamy bubble bath, surrounded by a bevvy of supermodels in tiny gold bikinis, one of whom is pouring the bubbly golden liquid into the tub from a huge champagne bottle. It's impossible to tell if Alastaire's actually wearing anything under the mountain of foam spilling over the edge of the tub, but knowing him, he might not have been.

"Arguably, it's Annie Leibovitz's best work to date," Alastaire says, admiring the photograph.

I laugh at that, and then out of nowhere there's a sudden patch of wetness and warmth pressed hard against my left ankle. I jump into Alastaire's arms in dismay, shrieking as I knock into him. It takes me a moment to realise that Alastaire has scooped me up entirely off the floor, and my arms are around his neck, my body held up against his in bridal style. He blinks at me in a sort of dazed confusion, obviously as taken aback by my sudden outburst as I was.

"Good god woman!" He says breathlessly. "It's only Charlie."

I look down at the floor and take in the ridiculous sight of Charlie - Alastaire's famous cheese-loving pug - sticking out his little pink tongue and wagging his tail enthusiastically, staring up at me with bulging brown eyes.

"Oh..." I say, and start to laugh.

As Alastaire lowers me to the floor, his bedroom door swings open.

And in barges Felix - wearing nothing but a too-small fluffy white bath towel around his waist, his face already twisted in fury as he takes in the sight of me in Alastaire's arms.

Dammit. 

*****

Update for readers: I have decided to end this series - I know that the story is not yet finished, but I'm no longer able to do the story justice. Please check out the longer message on my Author's Notes for a full explanation of my decision. I'm sincerely sorry for the disappointment, but want to thank you for reading my work ❤️