-Elias Grayson:
I looked at my dad as he fixed me with that sharp, controlled stare of his — the one that always meant he already knew more than he was letting on.
"Are you going to explain," he began slowly, "why the witch is here… why he was in your bed this morning… and why—" He cleared his throat abruptly, his jaw tightening, clearly deciding not to finish that sentence.
Not wanting to mention how Aurelian had been pressed against me when he walked in.
Heat crept up my neck anyway.
The room felt too small. Too bright. Too full of eyes.
I swallowed and forced myself to meet his gaze. "You're going to keep calling him that?" I asked quietly. "He has a name."
My mother blinked. "Call him what?" She looked between us, confused. "Elias, what is happening?"
Sebastian's mother turned toward him. "Why were you in his room?" she asked carefully. "And why are you three—" She stopped herself, choosing her words. "Together?"
