Moonlight Denial: Shades of Moonlight Book One

“Ugh, it’s almost ready. I’m sure of it!” Amelia said as she stared into the living room at the teleportation spell.

Ethan stood a bit behind her and fought back a sigh. She had said that numerous times already and each time it was untrue.

“I hope so,” Faith said, who stood beside Amelia. “It’s already past noon. We need to set things into motion soon.”

“I know,” Amelia grumbled. “But this is a really complex spell. They’re going as fast as they can. If they get something wrong we could end up in France or something.”

“Now that doesn’t sound like a half bad idea,” Andre said. He had stationed himself against the doorframe, leaning against it casually. “I could use a vacation.”

“After we get Nicoli,” Amelia snapped.

“He was joking, Sweetie,” Faith told her.

“It wasn’t funny.”

“My humor is just so under appreciated,” Andre said in false exasperation.

Ethan smiled and shook his head. Andre just didn’t know when to quit. There was something off about Andre, though. Ethan had noticed it once he, Cora and Andre had returned to the Fairbrooke house. Andre just seemed…drained or something to that degree. Ethan wasn’t sure how to put it. Once he got Andre alone he asked if something was wrong. Andre simply told him that he found the whole situation taxing then made some vague joke and laughed it off. Ethan didn’t press the issue. He would get it out of Andre after they got Nicoli back.

The four broke their stare into the living room when a voice called out to them.

“Maybe they could cast faster if you all weren’t staring at them and talking so loud!” Preston called from the kitchen. He had cooped himself up in there with a book and worked on ignoring everything around him.

“Mind your own business, Preston!” Amelia called back. “Don’t make me come in there.”

Silence issued from the kitchen and Andre snickered.

“I think I like you,” he told Amelia, who flushed slightly.

“Preston may be right, though,” Faith said. “Maybe we should focus our attention on something else and let your family do their magic in peace. It may also make the wait less excruciating if we find something to take our minds off it.”

Amelia huffed and blew her bangs out of her face.

“You’re probably right.” She then turned on her heel and strode toward the kitchen. “Okay, Preston, we’re coming in to bother you.”

“What!? Why me?”

Faith giggled and followed after Amelia and Andre was close behind. The two were always ready to cause some sort of trouble. Ethan was just about to follow when Felix popped out of a wall right beside him.

“Oh, Felix, where have you been?” he asked. The spirit had disappeared as soon as Ethan had returned from feeding. He had started to get worried, but he knew from experience that if Felix wanted to be alone it was best to leave him alone.

“I just needed time to think,” Felix said. He looked so serious, which clashed with his current position. He was still in the wall and hovering completely horizontal. Ethan would have laughed if Felix didn’t sound so solemn.

“What about?”

Felix didn’t answer right away. Instead he looked off to the side and chewed on his bottom lip. Finally he looked up at Ethan.

“Can you meet me on the back porch? I need to talk to you.”

Ethan was taken aback, but his curiosity was peaked.

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

Felix nodded then disappeared back into the wall. Ethan wondered what all of that was about, but there was one easy way to find out. He made his way to the back porch. When he passed the kitchen he got a glimpse of Preston holding up a book like a shield as Andre teased his skin with light touches and the girls laughing at the flustered man.

It took a minute or two of navigating the house before he found the way out onto the back porch. It was a lovely area that led out to a backyard filled with bushes and flowers of all sorts that were in bloom. Very odd given the time of year. The porch was enclosed by railings, but still felt open and airy. He found Felix hovering off to the side, staring out toward the lush backyard.

“Felix, what’s wrong?” Ethan asked as he came up beside him.

“I think the better question is what’s right?” Felix said with a wry smile. That smile was quick to disappear and the somber look returned. “Ethan, I’m scared.”

“Scared?” Ethan whispered. “Felix, you don’t have to be scared. They can’t hurt you anymore.” The words were hardly comforting since the reason Felix couldn’t be hurt was because he was beyond any form of physical pain.

“It’s not that,” Felix said, shaking his head. “I could give a damn about myself. It’s you I’m worried about.”

Ethan had to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

“Not this again. Look, yes I’ve allowed myself to get close to Nicoli, but that doesn’t mean –” Ethan was stopped as Felix clapped a cold, spectral hand over his mouth.

“I’m not talking about that,” he said, taking his hand away. “Ethan, I’m scared of you coming face to face with…with him.”

Ethan’s chest immediately tightened. It wasn’t Dimitri Felix spoke of. He meant the other betrayer of the family. The traitor. A man that had shattered Ethan’s entire world in an instant and made him question his whole life.

“Felix, I…” Ethan trailed off. He had no idea what to say. He looked past his hurt and drew up the anger and rage that coursed beneath the surface. “Felix, you don’t have to be worried. I’m going to kill him for what he’s done. You have my word on that.”

Felix sighed and shook his head.

“And that’s it, right there,” he said. “You say it, but I know in your heart that you’re not going to be able to follow through with it.”

Ethan opened his mouth to argue, but Felix silenced him with a look.

“Ethan, for the longest time he was everything to you. You’re someone that could never go back on such feelings. No matter how much hurt that person has put you through. You’ll always think back to the feelings you had and doubt will cloud you.”

Felix glided to Ethan and stared him straight in the eye. There was such a fierce fire in his eyes that Ethan could not look away.

“Ethan, listen to me. He is not the man that you knew. He was probably never the man you thought he was. You and I both know that. Please, I’m begging you, if you get the chance, kill him. You can’t hesitate. Not for a second. You have to shove away your old feelings and do what you know you need to do, because, I swear, if he gets the same opportunity he’ll take it. He won’t waste a single thought about it, either. Do you understand me?”

Ethan was silent. His throat was so tight. He knew what he could have said. He could have agreed and appeased Felix in any number of ways, but he couldn’t. He wanted to kill the betrayer more than anything, but could he really do it? Could he have the courage to go through with killing someone that had at one point been so close to him and knew him better than he even knew himself? His heart grew heavy. He knew the answer.

Ethan and Felix raised their heads when a shrill shriek came from within the house.

“Oh my God! It’s ready! It’s ready!”

It was Amelia and her words sent a jolt straight through Ethan. Could it be? Was the spell finally ready?

“Ethan! Felix! Get your asses in here!” Andre yelled.

Ethan was about to obey and rush into the house, but a tug on his arm stopped him. He turned to Felix who still had that look in his eyes.

“Ethan, you have to promise me that you will kill him if you get the chance. Promise me.”

Ethan stared into Felix’s eyes. Eyes that made him remember of all the pain and hurt he had been through and of the one who had caused it. Yes, he knew what he had to do. What must be done. No matter the cost.

“I promise, Felix.”

“Good.” Felix released Ethan’s arm. Satisfied. “Just please, remember that.”

After reassurances the two hurried into the house. Everyone was gathered in the living room. Even Conrad and Gavin were there. Ethan had no idea where the two had been hiding, but that wasn’t what had his attention at the moment.

An otherworldly wind was in the room, shifting clothes, hair, and making pictures hung along the walls shudder. The casting circle was now an illuminating violet, almost too bright to stare directly at. It lit up the four casters while also creating stark contrasting shadows.

When Ethan moved closer into the cluster of onlookers, Cecile spoke for the first time in hours.

“Come, we must make haste,” she said, her usual gentle voice now boomed. She never moved from her prayer pose and her eyes remained closed. “Everyone enter the circle.”

The vampires and Felix cast wary glances amongst themselves, but Amelia and Preston wasted no time walking past their statuesque relatives and stood in the circle.

“Come on guys, hurry it up!” Amelia shouted at them when the clan still didn’t move. “We have a Nicoli to save!”

Conrad, being the leader the clan needed, stepped forward. He had such a look of determination that even Ethan’s chest swelled with valor.

“Let’s go. It’s time we finally stop the madness Dimitri has wrought on our family.”

With such words the Clan followed their leader into the circle. Ethan marveled as he stared downward. Within the circle the floor was nonexistent. Instead it was more like a black sink hole, trying desperately to suck them in. It was as if the night sky had been turned into a cyclone. It was an inky black, but shimmering flecks could be seen in the darkness and rushing streaks of silver appeared until they went downward and disappeared into nothingness.

The only thing that separated the clan and the Fairbrooke’s from the hole was the circle itself. The symbols and indistinguishable words glowed a radiant gold and felt like they were standing on thin glass.

“Prepare yourselves. We shall be entering within the second,” Cecile told them.

Ethan swallowed and was glad his heart couldn’t beat. If it could he was sure it would have smashed right through his rib cage. Ethan’s brows crinkled when he heard hushed voices behind him.

“Do you have the you-know-what?” Amelia whispered.

“Yes, right here,” Preston replied.

Ethan didn’t have time to see what they were talking about or where Preston was keeping the “You-know-what.” The second his body began to turn the chanting the Fairbrooke’s had been keeping up grew into a crescendo. With no warning from the head witch or any of the other magical beings the magic circle shattered beneath them and Ethan’s cry caught in his throat as he, his family, and the Fairbrooke’s fell into the cosmic wormhole.

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Van was standing in the room that had been claimed by both he and Ira. He was currently looking over a giant human that stood in the middle of the room. Van circled around him many times with a dubious look.

“Is something wrong with the human I picked out, Van?” Ira asked, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. She was currently sitting on their bed, sweet and beautiful. No one that looked at her would even guess that she had just kidnapped someone and brought them home to be slaughtered.

“It’s not really wrong,” Van said, coming to the human’s front and looked him up and down. “He’s just so…big!”

The human could rival in width what Seth had in height. He appeared to be some sort of biker, rough and gruff all over from his dirty, bearded face to his old, scuffed boots. Not to mention his smell of leather and body odor was almost unbearable, especially to someone like Van with such a sensitive nose.

The man stood perfectly erect, oblivious to the conversation going on around him. His eyes were hazy and unfocused. Still spellbound by the trance Ira had put him under. Van always admired Ira for her calm and finesse.

“I mean, if I try and drain him dry I think I’ll burst. Couldn’t you get someone more my build?” Van asked. Van knew himself. He knew that if he started feeding from the human he wouldn’t be able to stop until there was nothing left. He did not have the ability the others had to only drink a little and let the human go about his way. With such a large man, larger than himself in both height and girth, he was going to feel very stuffed afterwards.

“But that was why I got you this one,” Ira said as she left the bed and came to his side. “We’re going to need you to be overfull.”

“Why?” Van asked in confusion.

“Because you are having a hard enough time with that boy in the house and after what transpired with Seth and Dimitri the stench of the boy’s blood is all over the house. If you are filled to the gills you will have more control over your actions.”

“You have a point,” Van murmured, his eyes sweeping the human again.

“Besides, you’ve been through a lot and need to regain your strength. You probably won’t get a chance to sleep again, so you might as well be filled.”

Van snorted angrily. Sleep. Is that what she called it? The next chance he got he was going to slug Seth in the face. He couldn’t believe that Seth had knocked him out like that. Even though at the time he had been losing a battle with his hunger he still felt the fist slamming into his face over and over. As soon as he fully came into his vampirehood he was going to make sure Seth knew he was someone not to mess with.

He was drawn out of his angry thoughts of vengeance when Ira kissed his cheek then nibbled on one of his lip rings. That instantly got his attention to a certain part of his anatomy.

“Come, Love, you must feed before the enemy is upon us,” she told him.

“You think they’ll be here soon?”

“I’m surprised they’re not here now.”

“All right, all right, I’ll get this show on the road then,” he said with a gruff sigh. He walked over to the human’s side and gave a kick to the human’s shin. “On your knees, dickwad,” he commanded. He wasn’t about to get up on his tiptoes to eat.

The human complied and dumbly got to his knees. Once there Van went to his backside and grabbed a fistful of wiry, gray hair and jerked the human’s head so the throat was exposed. With one last look at Ira, Van descended and sank his teeth into the human’s jugular.

At the first gush of blood on his tongue he was gone. The hunger that had been gnawing at him for hours took over and he gulped down mouthfuls of blood greedily. It wasn’t enough. He needed more. The fangs that were imbedded in the human’s jugular now tore into it viciously. The human gurgled and his body slackened as fresh blood spurted over Van, soaking his face and clothes.

A feral growl rumbled through Van’s core as hands touched his shoulders. No one would take his meal from him! The wild beast within him was soothed when a voice echoed through his mind, as crystalline as music.

“Easy, Van, easy. Go slow. No need to rush. It’s all yours. Savor it.”

Somewhere in his dazed mind he knew it was Ira who spoke to him and he fought his crazed hunger enough to calmly feed from his victim. Even as blood continued to ooze down his front from the large wound he had made in his overzealousness.

Soon, far too soon, the blood began to slow and there was less of it with each gulp. Van pulled away with a gasp when the human had nothing more to give. Van’s hands were fisted tightly in the human’s clothes and he released them in disgust. The human fell to the floor, a lifeless, hollow shell.

Van stared down at the dead human. At the horrendous chunk of neck that was missing. He looked down at his hands that were as red as a voluminous ruby and down at his front. His clothes were ruined.

A feeling swelled within him. A feeling he had each time he fed and killed. It was of horror and shame. Not for the murder he had just committed, no, the human’s life meant nothing to him. It was at the realization that, while feeding, he had no control over himself. A raging, unquenchable beast dwelled within him and, even after all this time, he still could not control himself in the throws of feeding.

“Please,” he said, the word slipping from blood soaked lips. “Tell me it gets easier.”

Arms slipped around his shoulders and fingers combed through his dyed, uneven hair.

“It does and it will,” Ira whispered in his ear. “Soon you will have control of your hunger, not the other way around.”

They went through this every time. It was a ritual for them. Van would ask for reassurance and Ira would give all that she had to him. He loved that about her. She was never disgusted by his vulnerability or scorned him for it.

“You have already grown so much control,” Ira continued. “Ripping out the jugular is far tamer than what you have done in the past.”

She was right. Van thought back to a younger girl he had killed over a year ago. Her eyes had been so full of fear when he bore down upon her and with good reason. He had gone so out of his mind he tore off all of her limbs, shredded apart her chest cavity and ripped out her entrails through her abdomen. When he came to his senses he was sucking out what blood was left from the throat of her decapitated head.

Van shuddered at the memory and the arms around him tightened. Lips grazed his ear and went down to his jaw. The tension in him began to unwind as Ira began to lick the blood from his chin. He loved her. Loved her so much. She was his anchor through everything. She had such patience and grace as she dealt with him. She was a saint.

At that moment Van was filled with a different need. A different hunger. He drew Ira to him and claimed her mouth with a growl. He kissed her slowly and delicately. He had control for this. Nothing would make him lose it and hurt the woman so close to his heart.

He ran his hands down the length of her body, smearing the blood on her clothes, but it went unnoticed. When his hands went upward they slipped under her blouse and brushed against her soft, supple breasts.

Ira moaned into his mouth from the action. Her hands clenched into his shirt and she pulled him toward her as she leaned back. Van quickly climbed on top of her when her back met floor, their lips never parting. She was his to take and only his and he was hers in everyway imaginable.

At that moment nothing mattered to either of them. Not the dead man just a few inches away, not the boy in the basement below them and certainly not the looming threat that was coming for them.

No, all that mattered to them was each other. Their gasps and moans. They way they trembled and sought each other desperately. And how their bodies moved and caressed each other until their two became one, both physically and spiritually.

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In the basement of Dimitri’s aged mansion Nicoli was alone. The vampires had gone long ago and left him on the cement floor, lying on his stomach. He knew nothing but pain. Every shallow breath he took was torture as it stoked and renewed the deep ache in his back. Or what was left of his back.

The whipping had gone by in a blur. After the first few agonizing lashes reality and pain enhanced delirium began to mix together. Had it lasted for minutes or hours? He didn’t know. What he did know was that he had slipped into unconsciousness several times during the process. Unfortunately that had only resulted in a few minutes of blissful reprieve before he was rudely awakened and the process started again.

He still felt it, the whip mercilessly cutting into his back, slicing flesh as if it were a knife. He had never screamed so loud. Not when he was facing Omen or in either instance when he had been thrown from cliffs. He had lost his voice entirely within the first few minutes, reduced to nothing but whimpers and warbled screeches.

After everything was done Nicoli had been cut down from the hook and dragged over to where he laid now. He hadn’t moved. He couldn’t. It would have been too much for his torn body. Where would he go anyways? He wasn’t about to try and climb up the stairs to try the door that he knew was locked. A part of him was sad to know that he had traded in his cushy prison for the dimly lit cold one he now resided in.

What made his new “room” worse was that where he was positioned he could see where he had been. The hook was in plain view and so was the large red puddle directly beneath it. He was happy he couldn’t look at himself. He knew he was covered in his own blood. His hands were still dyed red from his attempt at defense with the mirror. The back of his pants was caked in it. He didn’t even have to try and move his legs to know that the fabric had become stiff and hard from dried blood.

There was no telling what state his back was in. It had to of been shredded beyond repair. In Dimitri’s hands the whip was as good as a blade and it definitely left its mark on him. The wounds were still bleeding. He could feel the blood slowly running down his sides and some had even trailed over his shoulders and tickled his neck.

How much blood had he lost since he had been kidnapped? It was hard to tell, but he knew it added to his disoriented sick feeling that would roll around his gut every once in a while. Was this Dimitri’s plan now? Was he going to be left down there to bleed out and die? Rot in the dusty old basement that was to become his tomb? He shivered at the thought and liquid fire swept across his back as punishment.

Where were the others? Where was Ethan? A part of him always believed that they would come in and rescue him before anything truly terrible happened to him. It must have been the deluded teenager in him that thought he would always remain invincible, but now that stupid teenager was shattered. He supposed Ethan couldn’t always come in the nick of time for Nicoli like he had so many times before. There was only so much Ethan could do.

Even so, Nicoli never once thought he would find himself in the situation he was in, or the pain he was in. He received a taste of what danger truly was and how much of it he was in just being around the clan that he had come to see as his friends. Friends that were coming for him. They were coming for him. They were…weren’t they?

He wanted some sort of sign that he would be snatched from his hell. A clear sign that promised him that everything was going to be all right. Maybe that was why he closed his eyes and attempted something he hadn’t in what felt like forever.

“E-Eth…an.” His call was weak. His strength had been sapped from every part of him, even his mind. He gasped as a light shock swept through his body, making his back twinge and burn enough to make his vision blur.

When it subsided to a dull ache tears welled up in Nicoli’s eyes. He had already cried so much. His face was crusted in tears, but he still had enough it seemed. He hadn’t realized how much he wanted to hear Ethan’s voice. He wanted to hear that smooth, warm voice that always had a hint of laughter intertwined in it. The voice that would soothe Nicoli and maybe even make him smile again. Smile. He missed Ethan’s smile, too. It was such a bright, comforting thing. What Nicoli wouldn’t give to see it again, one more time.

A light squeak came from Nicoli when he heard movement at the door above him. The doorknob jiggled before the door opened. He closed his eyes. No. He didn’t want to be put through anymore. He couldn’t. His body would surely break completely. His ear pricked when he heard voices.

“I trust you may be able to soothe his pain somewhat.” It was Dimitri. “Who knows, maybe you will even get him to talk. I know as of now he won’t ever talk to me again, but maybe you’ll have some luck.”

Nicoli gritted his teeth. No. There was no possible way anyone would get him to talk. He had already come this far without betraying the clan. He wasn’t going to start now.

“I will try my best, Father, but you know I’m not really one for any sort of…comforting.”

Nicoli’s brows furrowed. That voice didn’t belong to anyone from Dimitri’s clan that he knew of. It was a man, he knew that from the tone, but not one he had come across before…and yet, something about the voice was so familiar that it had Nicoli’s mind tingling. No, it couldn’t be. He brushed away the brief thought he had as quickly as it came. Was he becoming delusional?

“I know you will try your best,” Dimitri said reassuringly.

The door closed and footsteps slowly descended the stairs. With each step the man took Nicoli grew tenser. He was aware that he began whimpering and he clenched his jaw to try and stop it.

The footsteps reached the cement floor and stopped at Nicoli’s side. He couldn’t see the new man because his face was turned the other direction, but he could feel the man’s presence. There was rustling as the man knelt down and set something on the hard cement floor. Then silence.

Nicoli gasped and jumped when fingers touched his shoulder. He sobbed as pain ripped through his back from the action.

“Shh shh its okay. I’m not going to hurt you,” the man whispered.

Nicoli whimpered and choked back more tears. His back was on fire, but the man’s words worked to calm him somewhat. He still couldn’t throw off the sensation that he knew that voice, but it was impossible. It had to be.

“Wha…oing…do?” Nicoli was shocked how feeble his voice sounded. It cracked horribly and half of his words were lost completely.

“I’m going to clean you up and try and stop the bleeding,” the man told him. “I’m going to have to touch you. Don’t be frightened.”

The fingers returned and Nicoli tried his best to not jump or jerk at the feeling. They worked to get strands of his hair unstuck from the blood that had dried. While his hair had been tied back a few tresses had escaped during the torture and were embedded in blood.

When that was done the hands left him. The sound of sloshing water reached his ears and he wondered what the man was doing. Before he could even try and voice his question it was answered.

“I’m going to start washing your back. It’s going to hurt.”

Nicoli wanted to sigh irritably. He was already in pain. In fact he was starting to forget what life was like without such agony. Even so he groaned when a warm washcloth tentatively touched a spot on his back. He clenched his fists and bared the rag that was now making minute circles across his back, scrubbing harder at the skin that was intact and being careful over opened wounds.

As the man worked he spoke comforting words to Nicoli. It was an odd form of reassurance. The man’s words sounded forced and disjointed, as if he was unsure of what to say or how to say them, and there was no warmth behind anything he said.

As he spoke the nagging feeling returned. Nicoli knew that voice. It was so familiar. He had heard it a hundred times before. He knew he had, but even with that thought his mind kicked in with its rationality. It wasn’t possible for the voice to belong to who he was thinking. It just wasn’t. If it was who he was thinking then the last thing they would do is follow Dimitri’s orders and simply take care of the damage Dimitri had inflicted.

Finally he couldn’t take it. He had to see the man’s face. He had to prove to himself that it wasn’t who he thought it was, even though a part of him wished beyond anything that it was. The man sounded like the one person he wanted to see more than anyone at that moment. Could it be? Could it really be him?

“What are you – Don’t move. You’ll cause the bleeding that has already stopped to renew,” the man protested as Nicoli started pushing himself up with his hands.

Nicoli didn’t listen. He had to see the man’s face. He just had to. That was what gave him the strength to ignore the screaming in his body and the blistering pain that accompanied it. He forced himself to sit up and when he looked up into the face of his caretaker all feeling in his body left him. It wasn’t possible and yet it was now entirely possible.

He knew every inch of the face he looked into, the strong cut of the jaw, the cheekbones, all of it. He knew every strand of wavy golden blond hair that framed that glorious face. Most of all, he knew those beautiful, distinctive teal eyes that stared into his very soul.

“Ethan!” Nicoli cried, his voice rushing back with his joy, as he lunged and wrapped his arms around Ethan’s neck. He was so happy that all of his pain was forgotten as he nuzzled his face into the crook of Ethan’s neck. He was so overcome he began to sob uncontrollably.

“E-Ethan, you’re here. I was so scared. What took you so long? You’re here. You’re here.” Nicoli continued to babble words of nonsense. He said the same words over and over until they were indistinguishable.

As he spoke and nestled against Ethan he slowly began to realize something wasn’t right. It wasn’t just not right, it was all wrong. Ethan’s hair was far too long. It was supposed to stop at the top of his neck, but instead he could feel the blond locks trapped by his arms and knew that they continued to go down further than that.

Ethan should have enveloped him immediately in the loving embrace Nicoli had come to know and enjoy, but the arms remained at Ethan’s sides and he was even stiff and rigid. As if Nicoli’s joyous hug was revolting to him. This was just all wrong.

“Ethan?” Nicoli questioned softly as he pulled back. As he looked into Ethan’s face, he realized that was also all wrong. Ethan’s lips were set into a firm line that would shatter if they curved into a smile. The radiant warmth Ethan produced with the littlest effort was absent and even his teal eyes were cold with a severe gaze.

Realization crashed over Nicoli and he recoiled from the man. He nearly fell back, but his hands saved him. The pain that had been forgotten came back with a vengeance. He whined and shuddered, but his eyes went back to the one in front of him, fear and confusion seeping into his system.

“Y-You’re not Ethan,” he finally managed, his voice cracking and weak.

The man let out a short chuckle, the sound hollow and devoid of any humor.

“No, I’m not. And I thank the one you call God for that everyday.”

Nicoli looked him over again. Nothing was making sense. What was going on? What kind of trick was Dimitri pulling?

“But-But you look just like – How is that…who are you?” Nicoli finally managed.

The hollow laugh came again and the main tossed his head lightly, straightening the intense wavy strands of hair Nicoli had mused.

“So, they really didn’t tell you about me. Typical.”

The man set aside the rag he had been using to wash Nicoli then straightened his posture. It was then Nicoli noticed how regal and proper the man appeared, something Ethan could never pull off.

“My name is Evan Meier. Regrettably, I am Ethan’s twin brother.”

============================Ch. 55 End