The chattering crowd suddenly quiets down, but the silence doesn't last—it never does.
Soon enough, hushed whispers fill up the funeral parlor, echoing like the buzzing of mosquitoes in my ears.
I've got to pinch my lips not to snort.
How typical.
My bad relationship with Danick is no secret. Whenever we're stuck together in the same room, his antagonistic behavior goes off the charts, and if eyes could kill… Well, I'd have long been buried six feet under.
Unlike his mother, he has no understanding of where and when he should be acting up. Being in a public space doesn't faze him, and words that should be kept out of strangers' earshot flow out of his mouth freely, without a care in the world.
For some reason, when it comes to me, he has no restraint and turns into a mindless fool.
Today will not be any different, and the crowd knows it. These jerks are waiting for the show to start, watching from the sidelines like always, with no intention whatsoever to intervene and help out. They're not dumb enough to alienate Miria by taking my side, the useless stepson.
In their eyes, I've got no value.
The political relationships between hunter clans are as shitty and complicated as elsewhere else. Still, people know who to make nice with and who to discard. Miria has more say in the clan than I'd ever do, and her value is higher on the societal scale than mine, so of course, these hypocrites are going to turn a blind eye, if they're not outright taking delight in my misfortune.
Not like I care much about that. If it's a shit show they want, then a shit show they will get.
Already, Danick's eyes are bloodshot, and he's glaring at my arm wrapped around Jordan's, almost as if it's the most horrendous thing he's ever seen.
Is it that surprising for husbands to act like husbands? Considering his and the rest of the crowd's reaction, it seems so. Guys, were you all looking forward to my miserable marital life or something?
Tsk, how depressing.
Yet, a smile slips onto my lips.
If being lovey-dovey with Jordan is all I need to do to grate on their nerves… Well, don't mind if I do.
The next instant, I lean my head onto the demon's shoulder, acting coyly.
Pride? What's that?
Now, I wait for Danick's reaction as his pea brain processes the image his eyes are seeing. What is he gonna do? Throw a tantrum 'cause his half-brother is being affectionate with his frigging husband? Most likely, yeah.
In a perfect world, Danick would act his age, but that's a pipe dream. Even though he's almost twenty, he's as immature as a toddler.
No, wait, sorry. I didn't mean to insult toddlers.
My bad.
"...What a whore!" He finally manages to spit out, making me arch an eyebrow. "Who said they weren't into men again? Oh, yeah, you! But here we go, your filthy ass all over a demon. You sure changed your tune fast!" His friends snicker, enabling him, and he continues to spout vulgar nonsense. "Is that mongrel really that good in bed, huh? How about your enlighten us on that? Y'know, for research purposes."
Oh my, that's a first.
I don't think my half-brother has ever commented on my sexual life before.
To be fair, I've never brought a girl home; I could never in good conscience subject an innocent soul to my family's shittiness. On the other hand, I'm also not insecure enough to shout on rooftops what I do with my manhood at night, unlike a certain someone.
In other words, I didn't give Danick much to work with, except maybe my presumed virginity. Funny how I became a whore after my marriage, though.
Anyway, I should calm down Jordan first.
The shadows of his trembling wings and his shining eyes tell me he's just about to rip the guy's head off. He might still be wearing that gentleman-like smile, but what's going through his head is definitely not civil.
Dude, stop overreacting! It's not worth it, and it's not like being called a whore actually bothers me. I've always preferred the empty insults to the physical violence. It's easier to handle.
And yes, I'm fairly sure he's angry on my behalf, 'cause I doubt Jordan cares about being called a mongrel.
Back at the supper, the vampires threw insults that were far more degrading directly to his face, and he didn't react at all, not even twitching. Not gonna lie, his self-restraint is awe-inspiring, and Danick should take notes.
Although Jordan did ultimately snap, but only after Anthony turned his attention to me.
Whether I want to admit it or not, it's obvious he's more concerned about what people say about me than him, and that's despite being a goddamn patriarch. His reputation is far more valuable than mine, yet he doesn't give a shit about it.
Whatever. Let's not think about it too much, and let's just pat his arm. That should get my point across.
Jordan looks down, and I lift my eyes to meet his. Thank God, he shrugs and lets the matter be.
"Finally has someone who listens to you like a dog, huh?"
I gotta admit the guy's mocking voice is starting to irk me a little, and I'm kinda impressed by how keen he is on courting death. I'm just about to bark something back when Jordan opens his mouth and says with a smile and a poised voice, "Well, of course, I am my husband's loyal, obedient dog."
…Don't laugh. Scott, don't laugh.
I laughed, anyway.
Danick isn't used to hitting cotton, and he's stunned, not knowing what to answer, opening and closing his mouth.
Admittedly, I've never reacted much to his ridiculous display of dominion, 'cause I didn't want to handle the aftermath, so I've always lowered my head and pretended to submit.
It's been hard not to say anything all these years.
"I've always wanted to have a dog." I play along with Jordan's charade, snuggling against his arm a bit more. "I can't believe that dream has come true. I have to thank your mother for that."
Danick chokes on air, looking at me as if I were a madman. Crazy how I don't even need to scream or resort to cursing to rile him up. He can make a fool out of himself on his own. That's almost anticlimactic. I guess I've been overestimating him if only this much is enough to leave him speechless.
"…You vulgar thing!" He snarls through gritted teeth. "I can't believe you'd stand so low as to engage in bestiality!"
Bestiality? Who? Me? Dafuq–ah, yeah. I see what's going through his head.
Many lesser demons are actually closer to beasts and insects than humans, just like that creepy giant centipede I've seen at the church. In Danick's twisted mind, he must be imagining that my husband's real appearance is that of a demon dog or something, and that we've engaged in a bedtime activity while he's in that form.
The reality is: we kissed only once, and that was at the wedding ceremony. Our marital life has been very chaste.
Not like I'm going to tell him, though.
"You should try it," I smirk back, "and maybe that will help you relax a bit."
I think I broke his worldview.
He must have been expecting me to refute him, get offended, and fumble with my words. Too bad I don't give a rat's ass about what people think of me or what kind of rumors go around.
In fact, the crazier the rumors, the more entertaining the whole situation is. Or at least, I believe it is for Jordan.
I mean, if these people here were to ever learn about what he is, then we're in for a good show. Insulting a patriarch as they are right now is pretty much courting death in the political world. In real life, too, for all that matters.
"Anyway, if you would excuse us," I yawn, "I've got a coffin to pay my respect to."
Even if there's most likely not much in that coffin. Kobolds aren't known to leave their prey's bodies unscathed.
Getting ready to turn on my heel, Danick tries to grab my free arm, shouting, "Who the fuck told you you could leave!"
Jordan gently pulls me on the side, and my half-brother misses the mark, loses balance, trips over his own feet, and falls headfirst onto the floor. His nose made such a loud cracking noise when his face smashed against the marble tiles that there's no doubt in my mind it's broken.
Time seems to halt for a second as I look down on Danick, who's sprawled on the floor. His friends have stopped laughing, too. The crowd has grown quiet again.
Everyone's waiting for the tantrum to start, but one glance at my husband, and I know he's sharing the same thought as I.
In one swift movement, we walk over Danick's body and leave the lobby.
I've wasted enough time on him.
The best way to take revenge on the guy is to simply pretend he does not exist and go on with my life. That's enough to shatter his frail, little ego into dust.