Unwelcome by Michael Griffo Page B

tendency. What bothers me is the age difference.” One shoe found, where’s the other? “Nakano’s just a kid and Jean-Paul, I’m sure you’ve noticed, isn’t.”
    Grabbing the shoe out of his hand, Brania flung it over her shoulder. “Do you have any idea how much older I am than you?” This man was wasting her precious time. She had work to do.
    â€œBrania, angel,” David had cooed, “Vaughan’s factory is a godsend to us. I would prefer that he continue to help us willingly and not seek out a new partnership elsewhere. He is getting rather chummy with Edwige. So do what you do best and make your father happy.”
    Ripping Vaughan’s shirt open, she was thankful that men today at least waxed their chests. Unable to resist her force or her kisses, Vaughan succumbed. Brania pushed him onto the bed and straddled him. She leaned over, her long, luxuriant hair falling around her face, concealing the dead look in her eyes. Not that Vaughan would have noticed; he wasn’t looking at her face.
    She bit his earlobe, the sharp pressure of her teeth making Vaughan writhe underneath her, simultaneously lost in his own thoughts and physically connected to her. He thought he would feel her fangs pierce the fragile flesh of his neck, take some of his blood, but instead she needed to plant a seed. “Don’t underestimate the next generation,” she whispered. “You should reach out to your son.”
    Looking up, Brania saw her father in the corner of the room, his mouth, once again, in the shape of a satisfied smile. He nodded his approval and then disappeared so his daughter could complete her task.

chapter 5
    With each step, the earth crunched under Ronan’s feet. Dirt underneath grass hidden by snow covered by ice, each element bowed when it felt the presence of the young man. Nature understood power. And, in turn, Ronan understood the power of nature.
    The rain that fell was more like hail, some particles large, some quite small, bouncing off of Ronan’s body, hardly painful, quite refreshing actually, as he walked steadfastly across campus to his dorm, to Michael. Moving in long, purposeful strides, he felt like a king returning home after a long journey to meet his prince. He heard his own voice mock him, sometimes Ronan you really do let those books you read decorate your thoughts. Rubbish, what’s the harm in a little embellishment, he thought, when his real world was just as fantastic as any piece of fiction.
    â€œWhere the hell have you been?!” Michael yelled before Ronan could even close the door behind him.
    So much for romanticizing his reality. “Just running an errand,” Ronan replied calmly, rivulets of icy rain traveling down the sides of his face.
    â€œWhat kind of errand could possibly take all day?” Michael asked. “And you do know that you’re getting water all over the place, right?”
    â€œYes, Michael, I do know that. I’m the one who just came in from the rain.”
    Yanking a towel off of a hook that hung behind the bathroom door, Michael started to blot up the mess, mumbling something about Ronan being inconsiderate while furiously rubbing the floor until it was bone dry. What was going on here, Ronan questioned, a minute ago he felt like the king of his own castle and now he was being treated like a guest who had long overstayed his welcome.
    â€œMichael, what’s wrong with you?”
    â€œMe?” Michael snapped. “So this is my fault?”
    Ronan knew that Michael liked things tidy, but he couldn’t possibly be this upset just because he got the floor a little wet. “I’m sorry if I tracked some ice in here. I’ll clean it up.”
    Ronan tried to take the towel from Michael, but angrily he brushed his hand away. Well, more like swiped. Were those tears in his eyes? Ronan wasn’t sure, but he knew that something was definitely wrong. And somehow,