I retrieve a cigarette, stuff it in my mouth, then light it. “I’m entirely uninterested in practicing empathy.”
“That makes sense since it doesn’t come naturally to you. But you have to think about whether or not you’re ready to succumb to a fundamentally bleak path just because you refuse to change.”
“I don’t know how the fuck to practice empathy.”
“Did you ever find yourself refraining from ruining or hurting something or someone she cares about because you understood that it would hurt her?”
“Maybe.”
“That’s a small step forward. You need to see the situation from her perspective first, not from yours. You have to shackle your instincts as much as possible.”
“You mean like I did whenever I wanted to hurt Bran and Glyn while growing up and directed that energy toward punishing those who hurt them?”
“Something like that. In fact, it’s best to have Bran give you advice on your relationship with her.”
“The prude who barely has any sex? Pass.”
“A relationship isn’t about sex, Lan. That’s a physical need that I’m sure you excel at. The emotional side, however, is your biggest weakness.”
“And Bran’s strength.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement.
“Remember what I told you when you were younger?”
“Bran feels too much and I feel too little, which is why we balance each other out.”
“Exactly.”
“He’ll never help me, Uncle.”
“Did you ask?”
No, I didn’t.
But as I look at my brother and sister, I fully understand the meaning behind Uncle Aiden’s words.
I, Landon King, lack something my siblings have in excess, and while I’ve always seen that as a power, maybe I need to reshuffle my cards.
“It’s pointless telling him all this, little princess,” Bran says. “He’ll never get it.”
“I do.”
Both Bran and Glyn look at me as if I’m being possessed by a demon who’s been expelled from hell for his friendly behavior.
“Is this a joke?” Glyn asks cautiously.
“When have I ever joked?” I grab both their shoulders. “I’ll make the effort.”
“Why?” Bran asks.
“Because you’re my family.” I smile. “In return, I might ask you a couple of things during the day.”
“Couple of things?”
“About how to practice empathy.”
Bran smiles. I don’t.
I know I won’t like this one fucking bit. In fact, my beast roars at the idea of being shackled, even if temporarily, but if it’s the price I have to pay for my little muse, then so be it.
26
MIA
“Good one. You’ve somehow managed to trap me.” Mr. Whitby—Frank, as he insisted I call him—nods in approval at my move.
We’re sitting in the empty club, only accompanied by the howling wind outside. Since it’s early afternoon, I’m safe from encountering the other members' snobbishness.
Let’s say the women became even more dismissive of me after they saw me coming here with Landon. Apparently, I’m the ‘snob’ who doesn’t deserve the ‘exceedingly charming’ Landon’s company.
He’s got them all buying into his act. Hook, line, and sinker.
At any rate, to avoid any inevitable confrontation, I texted Frank and asked if he was free for a quick game. Since he’s the perfect gentleman, he agreed. Pretty sure I hauled him from his very important gardening class, considering the smudge of dirt on the edge of his cuff.
“It’s much safer to give up now. This game has already been decided and it won’t be long before the checkmate,” I type and then show him my phone.
“I wouldn’t be so sure. It’s a mistake to underestimate one’s adversary.”
“Too bad for you that I came here fully intent on destruction.”
He smiles like all polite British people do, when I’m sure, deep inside, he wants to call me crazy. I’ve been in this peculiar mood since Landon made his spectacularly catastrophic appearance at my birthday party a week ago.
Not only did he advertise our relationship to the world, but he also had the audacity to announce that he was courting me.
In front of my family.
To say Nikolai hasn’t been taking it well would be an understatement. His manic state deteriorated from bad to worse in just a couple of days. Usually, he’s able to go back to normal in a week or less, but that’s obviously not the case this time.