Chapter 5

Iris's POV

A wave of exhaustion crashed over me. I couldn't keep playing the uncomplaining mother inside this web of lies.

My husband took off his coat, apparently waiting for me to take it and hang it up for him.

When I just stood there with my arms crossed, Lucien glanced at Luke with a look of helplessness.

Luke sighed, hung his head, and reluctantly walked over, stopping a couple of steps away.

"Mom, I'm sorry. We came home late."

I suddenly remembered how this had happened so many times before. I'd never asked the boy to apologize---I'd only wanted Lucien to step up as a father instead of spoiling him endlessly. But Lucien always "misread" the situation.

He used "don't upset your mother" as an excuse to scare Luke into controlling his diet and cutting back on blood. He used "your mother isn't satisfied" as leverage to push the boy harder with his studies and technique.

And he was the one who always swooped in afterward as the understanding, open-minded father.

Even though he rarely took care of Luke himself---even though I was the one up all night whenever Luke was sick---in our son's eyes, Lucien was always the good father.

Before, I'd told myself Lucien was just stressed from work and hadn't thought much of it.

But today, I'd seen how happy Luke was with his other mother.

If the three of them were the complete family---the model household---then there was no reason for me to keep playing the bad cop, making myself a nuisance.

"I'm not upset. Go get some rest."

Maybe it was the flatness in my voice, or the fact that I didn't reach out to pat his head the way I usually did.

My son---who normally flinched away from my touch---seemed unsettled.

He looked up at me, confused, his face a mirror of his father's.

Now, when I looked at Luke and Lucien, all I could see was the two of them with Rebecca.

The love I'd once felt for my husband and my child had been replaced by numb, aching hollowness.

"Luke, you must be tired too. Go to bed."

I turned away and poured myself a glass of water.

Father and son exchanged a glance---that familiar, conspiratorial look between them---and the sight left me cold.

Lucien put his hand on Luke's shoulder, ready to send the boy off to wash up and sleep. But Luke was still wired.

I saw the flash of crimson in Luke's eyes and knew immediately---too much rare steak had triggered his vampiric instincts.

Now all Luke wanted was more blood, his gaze fixed on the kitchen, on the refrigerator.

Inside it was the animal blood I'd stocked for Lucien.

"Daddy, can I have a drink before bed? Please?"

Lucien stiffened and refused instinctively, his tone sharp. "No. You've had too much rare steak today."

The moment the words left his mouth, he realized his mistake. He paused, softened his voice.

"Why don't you ask your mom? If she says it's okay, then fine."

Lucien turned to me with a playful wink---still trying to charm me into being the villain.

I looked at Luke and smiled faintly.

I waited a beat, then said: "Go ahead and drink, if you want. Your father's right here watching you. I have no objections."