Heir Apparent

Dante

TRIGGER WARNING. This chapter contains a graphic scene of attempted rape.

– — –

"Is Emilia single?" Portia finally asked.

On the other side of Ander's bedroom, Homer abruptly stopped playing tug-of-war with Watson to break into an elaborate victory dance. There was a lot of popping, locking, and running man involved. He always had been a terrible winner.

Portia stared at him in confusion. Ander groaned loudly.

The dance finally ended with a dramatic dab and Homer's too-loud demand of, "Pay the man!"

"I got all my money changed over when I arrived, so you better spend it fast," Ander groused, but reached for his wallet anyway.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Portia demanded, watching as Ander reluctantly slapped a twenty pound note into Homer's waiting palm.

"Ander bet that you wouldn't ask about Emilia until tomorrow," Homer said, flapping the bill in Ander's face a few times to drive home just how wrong Ander had been. "But I know my sister and her insatiable thirst, and I think this finally settles the matter of who's the better sibling."

"I'm still taller than you and can put you in a headlock if I have to," Ander warned him.

Portia made a noise of indignation, sitting up on the bed. "I'm not thirsty, I'm just asking!"

"She's single," Ander said, stuffing his wallet away. "And bisexual. And obviously into you."

Any lingering frustration on Portia's face disappeared like water on a hot skillet, replaced with starry-eyed delight. "She is? You're sure?"

"Am I sure she's bisexual? Yes, she told me. In fact, she explicitly mentioned she prefers dating beta women."

Portia looked for a moment like she might lose consciousness. She swayed briefly, then lunged across the bed to grab Ander by both wrists. "We can have a double wedding," she whispered feverishly. On the other side of the room, Homer burst into loud laughter.

"Portia, I can't believe I have to say this again, but I am not marrying Francis."

"This is bullshit," Homer said through his laughter. "How come I don't get to marry a hot noble?"

"I am not getting married," Ander repeated emphatically, to the insistent giggling of his siblings.

With Homer's help, Watson scrambled onto the bed. Given its size, there was more than enough space for Portia, Ander, and the dog – and even Homer, when he collapsed next to Ander.

"I mean, be fair, you're not married yet," Homer said. He'd made himself comfortable, hands tucked behind his head, staring up at Ander, who was propped up on his elbow. "The way he looks at you? Obvious. He even smells like he's in love with you."

Ander frowned. Portia, now thoroughly rubbing Watson's tummy, chimed in with, "You know that's just an old wives' tale, right? They did studies. Alphas can't actually smell pair bonding or any of that."

"Oh, we can smell it," Homer insisted stubbornly. "And it's all over him. It's all over you, too, Ander."

Ander rolled his eyes.

"It is! You smell different. Portia, doesn't he smell different?"

"I've been living in a different country for two months, of course I smell different."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Homer said. "It's not like you have a bond bite or anything."

Homer lunged suddenly for the collar of Ander's sweater and tugged down before Ander could even react. Portia gasped dramatically just as Ander yelped and recoiled. "Hey!"