Last month's extra was an intro about what shifters are and I thought I'd keep the theme and write a bit more about them but... It's a festive month and I want something special.
➝ Who would be interested in me interviewing the pets from the Dogs, Bats & Monkeys series: Luna, Luca and Bear?
Do YOU have any questions for them?
Even if they are random ones like "Luca, what underwear does Alec wear?" or "Bear, what is Adrian's favorite workout exercise?" or "Luna, where do you, Rhys and Riley go for walks?"
I paid the cab driver fifty bucks and sent him off, not having the patience to be gawked at any longer. Being drop dead gorgeous had its downsides, namely attracting attention when you were in no mood to do so. Thankfully, my grim expression had successfully halted the man's one and only attempt at a conversation.
I faced the black wrought iron gates of my grandfather's mansion and was just about to push the button to get buzzed in, when I heard a distant rumble coming from the road behind me and getting progressively louder. I turned my head and saw a motorbike approach. Even from that great distance, I knew it was Vika and the thought that she'd ride in on the machine our family detested made me smirk.
Perhaps I should've borrowed a bike and came on one too, but I've always had mixed feelings about the things. They were loud, too loud even, but when you rode on one the world around seemed to vanish in a blur of images. They gave certain freedom in that sense, which had its charm, but I also tended to associate them with my father and his pack. Many of the wolf shifters had a bike and Everett himself had offered to teach me how to ride his. I'd refused, of course, returning to their grounds on one of the machines - I'd borrowed it from a guy I'd been fucking at the time - a couple of months later, just to show dear ol' dad I didn't need him to teach me anything.
Vika stopped her bike - nothing flashy, but a simple, elegant and sporty black creature of metal - next to me, removed her shiny helmet and grinned.
"Couldn't help myself," she said. "I know I'd get an earful, but it's worth annoying them."
An electric buzz came from our side and the gate slung open silently; the security guards had probably decided we'd been outside long enough for them to let us in even without us touching the panel mounted on the column next to the gate. There was a buzzer button on it and a camera, stationary and much smaller than the rotating ones perched over the fence every ten or so feet.
"I guess that's our cue to get moving," my cousin voiced my thoughts, then beckoned me with her chin. "Hop on?"
She scooted forward and I slung my leg over the seat behind her, straddling it. Vika turned the handles, revving the engine, and off we went over the paved road splitting the garden in two and carrying us towards the monstrosity of a building that was our grandfather's mansion. It was constructed in an old, regal style, but had all the modern amenities one might need and the latest security system. We passed several guys in their uniform black suits and white shirts, and even though I couldn't see their guns, I knew they were carrying.
Vika parked her bike inside a spacious garage - the family one, not the one for the servants, of course - the place already containing half a dozen new or classic cars and not being yet a third full. As we dismounted, I saw two unfamiliar male faces next to two familiar vehicles; apparently both of our mothers were already here and they each had a new driver.
Again.
These two men wore outfits similar to the security guys outside - black and white being the only colors on them - but they had no weapons and each donned a black cap. They gave us a respectful nod that I did not return as Vika and I exited the garage and headed for the family dining room. Not to be confused with the business dining room where our grandfather entertained guests - if you could call the dinners the old dried up goat held entertaining - and definitely not to be confused with the room the servants used to eat in.
"Which one do you think would have more of a stink face?" Vika asked as we took the steps leading to the double front doors. "Ekaterina or Anastasiya?"
"You know my mother is the bigger bitch," I said, my gaze on the blond man coming out to greet us.
"Ekaterina can hold her own in the bitch contest," Vika protested, but as far as I was concerned Anastasiya was the winner. Then again, she was my parent, so perhaps I was biased.
"Did you get demoted from a lawyer to a butler?" I teased Adam once we were a top of the stairs. "Are you here to ask for our coats perhaps?"
Neither Vika, nor I wore a coat. The summer heat prevented that, although my cousin had put on a light faux leather biker jacket over her black tank top.
Adam, unimpressed with my jesting, gave me an exasperated glance, then pointedly turned to Vika.
"In order to postpone the family drama, I was asked to greet you instead of one of the butlers. Here are your schedules," he handed each of us a small piece of paper, engraved with the same fancy M that graced the front gates. "They show you where to go and when. Since both of you are late," his tone took on a stern edge and he looked back to me, "I'll have to quickly remind you of your grandfather's rules as we head straight to the dining room."
"We know his rules," I said, putting the schedule in my back pocket after barely having taken a glance at it. It had been enough to get the gist though: going over the rules with Adam in the smaller lounge room, family dinner in the dining room, a summoning to grandpa Bolek's office afterwards, when Vika and I had supposedly sweated our asses off, wondering why the hell we were here.
"Basically," Vika took off from where I'd stopped as she went through the double doors two servant girls held open for us, "grandfather's word is law."
"And we can eat the servants, but not fuck them." I heard a loud gasp from behind me - one of the girls must be new - but I did not turn around.
"Also, don't argue with our venerated mothers," Vika continued, our steps echoing over the marble floor of the hallway.
"And don't cost the old goat money or prestige," I went on, avoiding to make eye contact with any of the people we passed.
"And don't call him an old goat," Vika added.
"You two should take this more seriously," Adam noted, letting his irritation show. It wasn't professional, but he'd said it softly enough for no one but Vika and I to hear. He got that way with us sometimes. Took off the professional mask he usually clutched onto and showed us some genuine emotion. It was his way to display he cared, although it was also something that wouldn't win the blond any favors with Bolek. That was why I wasn't even mad at Adam for never behaving this way in front of my grandfather.
"This is why Boleslav asked me to greet you two instead of..."
"Asked?" I cut Adam off. "Grandfather doesn't ask, he orders."
"Either way, this is why I was waiting for you instead of a butler." He looked like he wanted to say more, but we'd already reached the family dining room.
"Don't start World War III," he concluded after a brief silence, turning on his heal and heading back in the direction we'd just come from.
"I feel bad for him sometimes," Vika stated, watching him walk away from us. "He does so much for the family, but Bolek has him do menial tasks too. When it comes to dealing with you and me anyway." She gave a sheepish smile. "Makes me feel kind of guilty."
"I'm cool with it," I lied smoothly and got an eyeroll in reply. She knew me well. "Shall we?"
She gave a reluctant nod and I opened the door for us. As expected, both of our mothers were already sitting at the table, opposite each other; when Bolek graced us with his presence, he'd be at the center with my mother Anastasiya at his right and Vika's parent Ekaterina at his left.
It hurt me to admit it, even in my head, but both women were absolutely stunning.
Both tall - even though you couldn't see just how much as they were sitting on the high back dining chairs - slender and fair, with a fine bone structure, long silky hair and tailor-made clothing. The similarities in their appearance ended there though.
My mother - blond and golden-eyes, was donned in her favorite white, in some people symbolizing purity, in her - regality, accentuated upon with golden jewelry; my Aunt Ekaterina's clothing was the same color as her hair - black, and she'd accessorized with silver to go with her eyes.
"They say better late than never," my mother began, her tone flat, "but I say, if you are going to be late, don't come at all. Don't you agree, sister?"
"Indeed." Ekaterina's tone wasn't any warmer.
Neither of the two women had even glanced at us.
"Now don't be like that, mommys, dearest." I drawled, as Vika and I took seats where two empty sets of plates and silverware were placed. It was at the end furthest from where the rest of the family sat. "Just stay right there and we'd come over to give you a peck on the cheeks in greeting."
"And instead of an apology, we get that," Anastasiya went on, coolly.
"Disappointing as ever," Ekaterina added, taking a sip of her wine. "But not unexpected."
"At least yours had the dignity to hold her tongue," my mother pointed out.
"But she came on that awful machine." My aunt upped the ante.
"They both did." My mother backing down in one of their favorites games: complaining which one of us was a bigger disgrace as an offspring.
"But yours, sister, isn't wearing a tasteless faux jacket," my aunt was just saying when the doors opened and in he came.
Our ancestor, summoner, tormentor.
Dear ol' grandpa Bolek.
I don't want to overwhelm you with too many new characters, so I'm stopping here. You'll get to meet Bolek and see how the family dinner goes in the next chapter.
But what did you think of this one?
What are your first impressions of Alec and Vika's mothers?
Having a hard time remembering which is which? Remember: A is for Alec and his mother Anastasiya!
Please give this chapter a VOTE, if you enjoyed it!
PS: About this month's extra: anyone who asks questions will be mentioned in the interview, unless they wish to remain anonymous.