Ménagerie à Trois

2 Darcy

Darcy looked up from his monitor, when someone knocked on his door and pushed his chair away from his sleek, modern desk.

"Come in." He called, standing when his father opened the door and entered his office.

"Sir?" He asked.

"This is personal, son, not business." His father, Dean, was fifty-six, and just now begining to show signs of aging, in the slivering hair of his raven black hair at his temples.

Nervous now, Darcy sat back down, running a hand through his own raven black hair.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"It's your sister." his father said heasitantly.

"What's wrong with Pat?" He asked, concerned. He had what felt like a hundred brothers (it was actually ten), but Patricia was his only sister.

"She's sick, son."

"Sick?" Cold fear settled in his gut.

"Is it serious?" He demanded "Is there anything I can do? Does she need something? Blood, marrow, half of my liver? She can have it. Anything."

"What?!" His father looked shocked, but pleased. "No, no. She's okay. Just a bug. But, I'm glad you're so eager to help out though because it means she can't go to the Aurumdhoran Gala tomorrow."

"You can not be serious." Darcy growled cursing himself for not seeing the trap before he stepped into it.

"Watch that tone, boy." His father growled back.

"Send one of the other lads, why don't you?" Darcy said, clicking nothing in particular and staring at his computer screen, pretending to be busy with work.

"No. I should have been sending you in the first place. This is part of being an Alpha. You have to make public appearances for the pack. Even if it's just a fundraiser. I know you know how to behave around the Other Blood. You know how your brothers are."

Darcy groaned. He did know.

"Plus, they're all already gone for their hunting trip." His father added. "Look, it'll be fun. You like Raj, and if anyone knows how to throw a party, it's a Dragon."

"Fine. But if I have to dance with somebody's ugly daughter, I'm coming back here and starting the conclave early." he threatened

"Yeah, but unlike your brothers you're smart enough to dance with the girl, and be polite about it, regardless of how ugly she might be." He chuckled.

"Well, duh. Don't piss off the Dragons. I think even my idiot brothers know that."

"Sometimes I'm not sure with them." His father mused. "Any how, here." He pulled two slips of paper from his front jacket pocket. "Your ticket, and our tribute."

"Tribute?" Darcy asked raising an eyebrow, reaching for the papers. "I thought this was a fundraiser for charity."

"Dragon charity. They can call it what they want, but when the Dragons ask you for money, you cough it up."

Darcy glanced at the check, which was written for one hundred thousand dollars.

"That's generous." He said drily.

His father shrugged. "A little bird told me the Cunningham pack is giving Fifty. I won't be out done by those upstart whelps."

Darcy managed to not roll his eyes, but just barely. This feud with the Cunninghams was ridiculous if you asked him, and given the opportunity, when he became Alpha... If he became Alpha, he was going to put a stop to it one way or another.