Free Fated by Rebecca Zanetti Page A

flipped off the television and turned to face him, deep purple eyes anything but interested. “You wanted to see me?” Boredom and just a hint of insolence coated the words.
    Lorcan straightened his spine, shutting the door. He walked around his massive onyx desk, putting himself in the position of power with his chair raised. “Yes.” The bubbling of his six-foot long tropical fish tank failed to provide its usual distraction from its place against the side wall. “I understand you nearly killed Jastin during training yesterday.”
    Kalin shrugged a large shoulder. “So.” He rested one broad hand on the arm of the leather chair, relaxed.
    The casualness sent a shaft of irritation through Lorcan. Damn kid could at least pretend to be in fear of his father. His ruler. Lorcan studied his young son, noticing the way the black jeans and white shirt gave him an older, more dangerous aura than a fifteen-year-old should have. He’d tied his thick black-red hair off his neck, throwing the sharp whiteplanes of his face into prominence. His coloring was muted, more subtle than most. Lorcan tried to hide all emotion from the boy, knowing any weakness would be instantly exploited.
    Kalin rolled his eyes. “He’s weak.”
    Lorcan fought a chill at the nearly blank look in those unusual purple eyes. Most of his people had purple eyes, but Kalin’s were a purple almost mixed with green. Unnerving. Eyes should be purple, red, or black. Not the color of the hottest of fires, the green at the bottom of a polluted lake. “True. But, you’re going to lead him someday.”
    “Then he should learn to fear me now.” Not by one decibel did the inflection change.
    Lorcan cleared his throat. “Also true.” He reached forward and shuffled some papers on the desk. “I also wanted to discuss the fact that another woman has gone missing from St. Paul.”
    “Really?” Black eyebrows lifted. “St. Paul’s a big city, father.”
    Damn if pride didn’t infuse him with his siring of the little sociopath. “Yes. But we need to keep a low profile for a while. Not that I’m accusing you, son. But—”
    “Accusing me of what, father?” Kalin leaned forward, his deep maroon lips creasing in a smile. “Of taking that woman off her back porch and carrying her into the forest? Of laying her down and stripping those silly yoga clothes off her lush body?” Sharp canines flashed in what could never be considered a smile.
    Lorcan fought to keep his face calm, his eyes amused. He had hoped Kalin limited his rage to the training field—for now at least. He really didn’t want to have to relocate—he liked the weather and overcast skies in Minnesota. And if Kalin persisted in his escapades, the human authorities might become a bother.
    Kalin hissed out a breath. “She shouldn’t have taken that dog out once darkness fell. Would you like to know how it felt to sink my teeth into her thigh?” A dark flush covered thenatural white of his cheeks. “Of how I took her body, her soul, and ultimately her blood as she begged? As she promised anything to live?”
    “Kalin—”
    “They’ll never find her body, father. I promise you that.” Kalin smirked, and Lorcan fought the urge to roll his own eyes. Taking such pride in killing a defenseless human female—the boy had maturing to do.
    A knock on the door ended their discussion. “Enter.”
    A tiny blond human shuffled inside carrying a Belleek tray set with two cups. “Morning tea, your lordship.” She kept her gaze down, focusing on the steaming shamrock teapot, each step carefully placed until she reached his desk.
    “Orange zing?” Lorcan asked.
    “Yes, sir,” the woman answered, her fingers trembling so the cup she extended rattled against the saucer. A sour milk scent mixed with the fragrant orange spice tea. Damn it. The woman’s fear would ruin his tea time.
    “Lila?” Kalin asked, his voice dropping to silk from behind her. “Are you with child yet?”
    She jumped, clanking