Page 29 of Mischief

I'm off the bed, sheet forgotten on the floor, throwing my bare body between them.

"Daddy, stop, you're going to kill him?—"

"Get out of the way, Tindra."

My father's voice comes out low and shaking, a voice I've never once heard from him.

"Get out of the way, put some clothes on, and get the fuck out of here."

"No."

I flatten both hands on his chest and shove with everything I've got.

He doesn't move an inch.

He's a wall, pure fucking muscle, and I'm shoving a man who taught himself not to move.

My arms are shaking with the useless effort of it.

"No, you listen to me. You don't get to do this."

"He put his hands on you."

His chest heaves under my palms, his eyes locked on Bodul bleeding at our feet, refusing to come to me.

"I put my hands on him."

It tears out of my throat, raw enough to scrape, and my father goes dead still.

"Do you hear me? Me. For nine months I chose this, in secret, right under your nose, because I knew you'd dothis. Exactly what you're doing right now."

"Nine months."

He says it like the words are cutting his mouth on the way out.

Behind me I hear Bodul spit blood onto the floorboards, the wet drag of him trying to breathe through a nose that might be broken, and I can't turn to look at him, or I'll shatter where I stand.

"Nine months. Under my roof. A prospect."

"Aman."

The tears come now, hot and fast, blurring the whole room, and I don't waste a hand wiping them.

"A good man. Thebestman I know. And you're beating him half to death on a room floor because I fell in love and didn't ask your permission first."

Something moves in the doorway.

I didn't hear them come.

But they're here now, drawn by the noise, Uncle Fenrir, Kraken, and Magnus filling the frame.

I watch the news of it travel across their faces the same way it traveled across my father's.

The Prez's granddaughter.

A prospect.

Caught.