The Secrets of Lore Seymour

40. The Unspeakable Incident

Three Years Ago

Cyan P.O.V.

This was it; my moment to shine. Lore would see that I'm worthy of his trust and, after this weekend, I wouldn't have to go on another mission with Draven ever again!

"Why are you making such a weird pose?" Draven asked while staring incredulously at my... weird pose, I admit. But it was out of excitement!

"Don't you understand what this weekend means?" I followed Draven to the car where he carefully and quietly put two small bags in the trunk. I didn't even recall packing--that fucker packed a bag for me, didn't he?

"Did you go through my underwear drawer?" I snapped, flushing at the thought of Draven seeing said underwear drawer.

"I had to unless I wanted to be stuck around your stench all weekend," he replied and slammed the trunk shut. "You forgot to pack and I didn't feel like waiting."

He strutted by me like he didn't admit to breaking into my room, even if it was to help both of us. I hated wearing dirty underwear. Hated dirt and grime in general. As a child, I was surrounded by it. Filth upon filth, both in the literal and metaphorical sense. As an adult, I can't stand the thought of it, let alone living in it.

"I don't smell. You're such a dramatic bitch," I grumbled while getting into the car. There was no point even trying to argue about who should drive with Draven. He wouldn't argue and I wouldn't win.

"I don't want to hear that from you, the very definition of a dramatic bitch."

"That would hurt my feelings if I wasn't so preoccupied by the fact that you actually said bitch. Do you need some soap to wash that filthy mouth of yours?"

Draven started the car while donning the usual apathetic expression that didn't lessen his unfairly attractive features. It's a vampire thing; flawless skin, bright eyes, youthful appearance, and muscles they didn't have to work for. Draven more so than others, although I suppose I had always been very biased. Ever since the day I arrived at Seymour Manor, my eyes were on Draven. Not for the same reasons they are now, but still drawn.

He was always composed. Always prepared. Always had the trust of Lore, Arline, and the children, even if he didn't always pay them as much attention. Then I got older and added, "always effortlessly handsome and beautiful all at once" to the list of admiration. He made me short of breath when I thought I'd never feel such feelings again. And truthfully, I'd kill to have his height and shoulders. He doesn't deserve them, freaking ungrateful sack of rotten potatoes--

"You're staring," he said, keeping his orange eyes firmly planted on the road. "And you never finished what you were saying."

"Huh?"

"Earlier. What does this weekend mean?"

"Ah, right. If things go well, which they will--"

"With you involved, that's debatable."

"We won't have to go on missions together anymore. I'll be a lone wolf and Lore will finally see the truth--" I pointed accusingly at Draven, who didn't so much as blink in mild trepidation. "That I'm a far better choice of a right hand man than you are!"

"I see."

"I see? Give me more than that. Tell me you're going to do your best to keep your position or that'll only happen in my dreams!"

"Childish responses are part of your repertoire, not mine."

"Childish responses," I grumbled, incapable of denying that since it's a fact. Draven never made me feel better about it either. He happily pointed out my faults like it was a damn occupation and he's striving for employee of the year.