I eye him. Summer’s so small! I’d say five feet seven, give or take. Hard to tell while he’s sitting.
His hair’s kind of like mine in color, but where mine leans more golden honey, his is more like caramel fudge. He’s got it pulled back tight into a man bun at the nape of his slender neck.
His face is oval, soft, with high cheekbones. He looks really young, probably somewhere between my age and Eliano’s.
I can’t see his eyes, not even from an angle like I could with Mauro. They’re always lowered. I’m not really into omegas, never paid them much attention, but even I have to admit, he’s cute. Pretty in a way that actually reminds me of my dad, weirdly enough. That sweetness in his face… I can see why it might trigger something protective in most alphas. Not in me, though. I’m immune to that shit.
But beyond that, there’s something sweet and pure about Summer that catches the eye. Unfortunately, that probably includes the wrong kind of attention.
Why is he even here? He doesn’t look happy. His whole body’s stiff, tense, like he’s vibrating with anxiety, a lot like Eliano.
I know it probably sounds as if I’m just sitting here calmly, observing everyone, all neutral and detached, but that’s bullshit.
My fists are clenched too. My throat is constricted. I’m not usually a nervous person, and I sure as hell don’t default to submissive.
But here? In this fucked-up room, with these odd people? Whatever part of me is submissive, it’s crawling to the surface and taking over.
Eventually, I raise my eyes to Anzo.
He’s staring right back at me, and there’s something new in his gaze now. Something unsavory. Shit. This is heading nowhere good.
"My dear family," Anzo says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "As you’ve probably noticed, at least those of you who managed to look up from your fucking plates, we have a new guest at the table."
Now Rocco, Luca, and Eliano are looking at me. No one else lifts their head.
"Sun is my newest acquisition. He’ll be enriching our lives from now on. He’s eighteen, an aspiring musician, influencer, and model. And he also happens to possess some very rare physical traits I’ve discovered, ones that make him especially unique. He might as well be his own, separate subgender!"
I freeze. He didn’t just say that.
I’m praying he’s not about to comment on my anatomy out loud.
But before he can continue his fucked-up little monologue, Eliano suddenly lifts his head. He glances at me, then turns to Anzo and grits out,
"What’s his official status in this house, Father? If Summer’s your husband, then who the fuck is Sun?"
What happens next shatters every last ounce of my hope into ashes.
Eliano’s body seizes and jerks backward, just like mine did when I got electrocuted.
But there’s no collar. I stare, dumbfounded.
How’s that possible? Did Anzo implant something in him? Something more permanent?! Anzo really is out of his goddamn mind.
No one reacts. No one fucking blinks. A typical occurrence at the Ferros’ table? Random shocks of electricity mixed with introducing new human toys into the family? Home sweet home.
The silence stretches. Even Eliano, once he finally stops convulsing, doesn’t say a word. No protest, no complaint. Like this is just another Tuesday. And maybe it is.
"What were we discussing?" Anzo asks smoothly.
Rocco answers, totally calm, maybe even a little amused.
"We were talking about Sun’s exceptional physical features."
"Ah, yes. Of course," Anzo says. "So, his hole? Looks just like a rose omega’s. Kind of like our dear Moon’s. You know, the one who’s no longer with us!"
He says it as if it’s our fault Moon’s not here. His gaze sweeps the room in an accusatory way. But I don’t give a shit about his little games. Because a wave of humiliation slams into me.
I fucking hate this bastard. Do I even have to say that? Talking about someone’s body like this at a dinner table? And he was the one rattling on about manners?
