Chapter 9: I Am Her Foster Father

Faye's POV

Lucy finished what she had to say and left. I stood there for a moment, still processing, before Lucian leaned in and told me he wasn't going anywhere.

I shoved him away, exhausted. "Stay or go, I don't care. Just stop bothering me. I have work."

I didn't wait for his response. I walked out alone.

The Beast Management Bureau was as hectic as ever. I spent the entire afternoon on calls and in meetings. Because of my sex addiction, I'd been working from home on and off for a while, and coming back to the office in person meant a mountain of backlogged tasks was waiting for me the moment I walked through the door.

By the time I wrapped up my last project, the elevator held only two people — me and my boss.

I accepted the coffee he handed me. "Thank you, Mr. Hawthorne."

"Please, just call me Arthur." Arthur Hawthorne was a gentle, considerate superior — polished in every sense of the word, and always thoughtful toward me at work.

Arthur had a striking physique, broadly acknowledged as the best in the company. Yet he was a rabbit beastman — and apparently, no one had ever seen his fluffy ears or tail. Thinking about that, I found myself staring at the top of his head, picturing what he'd look like with ears suddenly sprouting out.

I must have zoned out for too long. Arthur snapped his fingers in front of my face.

I startled back to reality and quickly looked away. "Sorry — I spaced out."

He smiled, easy and unbothered, and told me not to worry about it.

When we stepped out of the elevator, I realized the outside world had turned into a downpour. Of all the days not to drive, it had to be today. I was about to make a run for it and flag down a cab across the street when Arthur caught my arm.

"You'll catch a cold running out in that, Faye."

"I didn't drive today," I admitted, a little embarrassed.

"Then let me take you home." His tone was natural, unhurried. He released my arm with the right amount of restraint and gestured toward the underground parking garage.

Arthur drove me back to my villa. The lights inside were blazing, and he glanced at the windows. "Is someone home?"

I had no intention of letting anyone at work know I kept beastmen — let alone two at the same time. I lied without hesitation. "I just forgot to turn the lights off before I left."

He nodded and handed me an umbrella through the window. "It's supposed to rain again tomorrow. Remember to drive — or I could pick you up in the morning?"

There was a teasing lilt to the offer. I smiled along with it. "Stop joking around. Drive safe."

I got out of the car, unlocked the front door, and walked straight into Lucian's chest.

He was shirtless, a pink apron tied tight across his body, the fabric pressing against his bare chest. The warmth of him against my face was, undeniably, comfortable.

He buried his nose against my neck and inhaled. When he spoke, his voice came out through clenched teeth. "You smell like rabbit."

His relentless interrogations had long since worn me down to nothing. I pushed him off. "Don't you have anything better to do? All you ever do is grill me. I'm tired."

The moment the words left my mouth, we both went quiet — because that was exactly what Lucian used to say to me, more than anything else.

He didn't put on the wounded expression I expected. He steadied himself quickly, took my arm, and guided me toward the dining table with sudden warmth.

"I'm sorry, Faye. That was wrong of me. You've had a long day — come try what I made."

He steered me into a chair. A lemon fish sat on the plate in front of me. I didn't touch my fork.

I glanced around the house. It was immaculate in a way it had never been before. A bowl of my favorite fruit sat on the table.

Lucian blinked at me, expression wide and expectant, and cut the fish into neat pieces. "Go ahead — it's the flavor you like."

I ate without feeling much of anything. Afterward I let him peel fruit for me, refill my tea, hover at my elbow.

He was attentive. I felt nothing.

I knew he was trying to make up for things. I just didn't need it anymore.

"Where's Thor?" I set down my teacup.

Lucian shrugged, draping a blanket over my lap. "He woke up and headed out. Said he had work. For a beastman like him, 'work' probably just means selling himself."

I lit a cigarette and didn't hesitate. "You don't have a job either, and you don't exactly make me happy."

The tendons in his hands went taut where he gripped the edge of the blanket. I thought the comment would make him snap. Instead, his ears drooped. His tail sank toward the floor. He tossed the blanket onto my lap with quiet, wounded care, then turned and walked to his room without a word.

Watching him go, I felt a small, sharp satisfaction — the particular pleasure of a hit that lands exactly where you aimed.

It didn't last long. Lucian came back out of the room moments later, moving with a stiff, awkward kind of reluctance.

This time, he was wearing a maid's outfit.

The kind that left his chest fully exposed, the skirt barely long enough to cover anything below the waist.

He settled beside me again and resumed massaging my legs. He didn't speak. His expression was a complicated mix of discomfort and shame.

I didn't particularly care. I let myself enjoy it. That was what he was here for, after all.

Then the sounds of a fight erupted at the front door.

An instant later the door burst open, and Thor was sent flying across the living room — a full ten meters — and slammed into the floor, badly injured.

I rushed to him in shock. "How did you end up like this?"

Lucian's ears and tail shot upright. He bared his fangs and planted himself in front of me, eyes fixed on the doorway.

"Who the hell are you?!" he snarled.

"Little bunny."

The voice was low and familiar, rolling through the room like a sound I'd buried years ago. My hand stilled on Thor's shoulder. My whole body locked up.

I forced myself to stand. I turned around.

Gray-white hair combed back without a single strand out of place. Dark red dragon horns rising from his forehead. A black suit, head to toe, red-soled leather shoes, and a thick black-and-crimson dragon tail swaying lazily behind him. His face had barely aged — only the faint lines at the outer corners of his eyes gave anything away, reminding me of exactly who he was, and exactly how serious he could be.

My lips trembled. I made myself open my mouth.

"Daddy."

Both Thor and Lucian stared at me. Then at Damon.

It was a rule we had made long ago. Whenever he called me little bunny, I was to answer with Daddy — and I was not allowed to refuse any order that followed.

I had told myself I hated him enough to have burned all of that away for good. But my body moved before my mind could stop it.

Damon smiled. He smoothed the front of his jacket, settled himself onto the sofa with unhurried elegance, and lifted one hand — the wine bottle and glass on the cabinet drifted toward him, pouring a measure of red wine as if pulled by invisible strings.

"This bottle — I gave it to you before I left, didn't I, Faye."

I was shaking all over, and every tremor was soaked in hatred. "What do you want, Damon."

"Just checking in on you, sweetheart." His gaze swept the room. "Doesn't look like you're doing too well. Can these two actually satisfy you?"

The provocation landed. Lucian and Thor both bristled at once — ears back, fangs out, brows drawn down hard — and in the same breath they lunged straight for Damon's throat.

Damon didn't spare them a glance. His tail whipped out from behind him and sent Thor crashing into the wall. His hand shifted — fingers lengthening into scaled dragon claws — and closed around Lucian's neck, pinning him flat against the coffee table.

It was over before it began. Both of them were down. Damon hadn't changed expression once. He was still looking at me, still smiling, still perfectly composed.

I swallowed my rage and stepped forward. "Let them go."

Damon released his grip immediately. Lucian doubled over coughing. Between ragged breaths, he managed to look up at me. "That's Damon? He used to serve you?"

Damon answered before I could.

"No. Faye served me." A pause. "I am her foster father."