Her Forbidden Threeway

Chapter 4

The brother’s returned just after the sun had risen and Reade was patiently waiting behind the counter. She distracted herself with the pages of an article that told her about the many different dragon artifacts that could be found, and how one explorer made it his life’s mission to find the unfindable. It must have been comical for the shapeshifting society to read. It went into detail about how crystals were a myth and the different photos of the apparent dragon shifters—small men with scars and tattoos, the complete opposite of both Jackson and Scott.

Reade read through the article with a small amount of interest and tried desperately to keep herself from focusing on the image of the twins rooting through her belongings, her house and her bedroom. She flushed a few times and red stained her cheeks as she wondered how large Scott would look next to her bed, or what Jackson would say if he went through her wardrobe.

Reade couldn’t deny the lingering feelings she had for each of the brothers. There was an undeniable sex appeal the both of them held. It practically oozed out of their pores and Reade couldn’t help but want more.

They had so quickly become an integral part of her life. They would need to work as a team in order for her to uncover the truth though as they made their appearance known, it was adamant that teamwork wasn’t in their blood.

Jackson’s face lit up as soon as he saw Reade leaning over the counter, with her messy hair of red. Scott remained impassive, always emotionless and always carrying an expression that was indecipherable, but Reade believed she witnessed something more.

“What the hell do you think you were doing?” Reade asked suddenly, causing both of the brothers to stop and pay tribute to the scowl on her face.

“Making a move to answer all of your questions,” Scott spoke up first. “You have the information and we have the knowledge, tools and the language to decipher it.”

“What do you mean?” Reade asked, frowning. “What language?”

Jackson sat down a duffle bag that was laden with what could only be the items that were hidden away in her Father’s study.

“The books, the journals, the equipment there? You can’t just open it with a click of your finger or even the turn of a page. You have to be skilled in the art that is Dragonry. And as you can probably tell,” Jackson gestured to the shelves of the store surrounding them. “We are somewhat professionals in this. You need us for answers and we need you for answers.”

The dynamic of the group had changed and Reade had underestimated their need and want to work in a team. They seemed quite compliant, despite the fact that they had invaded her privacy. Though Reade couldn’t help but worry that the information locked inside wasn’t going to ruin or alter the relationship they had built, or their view, or even their need for her to be around.

Reade thought back to her conversation with the grandmother, whose name was in-fact Marnie.

“My decision was already made in the field. I care about them. Both of them.”

“Then let them protect themselves.”

Reade was incapable of denying those words. They needed to look out for themselves more than she needed to protect her father, a man who had lied and who had cheated her of the truth. She had already made the decision to confront him at some point, and she wasn’t going to back down until she knew everything.

“Where do we start?”

The back room had been rearranged to make way for brighter light that came from crystallized lamps. Reade, Jackson and Scott overlooked a few of the 18th century journals that they had come across. The journals were stunning and enveloped in aged leather. They smelled like an old book store and the pages were falling out from their condition.

The journals seemed like they were completely impossible to open. As if they were sealed shut with some type of magic, though the grimoire that they had found, fell open with a smooth brush of Jackson’s hand. Inside of it, was a recipe for death. A death that centered around the demolishing of mythical creatures, the main being as equally terrifying as it was obvious: Dragons.

“Why does my father have these?” Reade wondered to herself as she watched the brothers from her peripherals.

“I have a theory,” Scott said, perking up and offering his usual crooked smirk. “What if Papa Liar is a shapeshifter himself?”

“Excuse me?” Reade questioned, glancing up at the overly confident brother.

“Maybe that’s why he’s so adamant on keeping everything a secret,” Scott carried on, despite the horrified look that was painting itself across Reade’s face. “I bet he totally skips out at night so that way he can twist into one of us and feast on drunken college girls.”

“Stop it,” Reade stated flatly as she pressed her palm to her stomach that was now nauseous. “Stop it right now. My father isn’t like you!”

Scott rolled his eyes at Reade’s dramatic display and Jackson inched closer to envelope her in a soft embrace.

“Scott is right,” Jackson said soothingly. “We can’t be certain of course, but the idea that an obsession with mythology can sometimes be greater than with religion and it could mean something more.”

Reade could easily see that her father had taken obsession to a new level. He was always collecting strange things and was always consumed by his work. She found herself hoping that his need for work would have kept him from checking her bed to see if she were there, but she knew he was too protective for that to happen. She pushed the thought of his wrath from her mind and inhaled deeply.

“What about this?” Reade asked as she rubbed the pad of her thumb across the blade of a dagger; its jeweled edge of ruby showcasing pure beauty. “This knife?”

 “Be careful with that, especially here. Once you active it, it’ll aim for the weak spot in any Dragon.” Jackson answered; saying the word ‘dragon’ with such casualness, Reade almost missed it. “You should put it down.”

Reade sat the dagger down and leaned her elbows on the coffee table, crinkling her nose. “I have a question.”

“Another? Aren’t you bored yet?” Scott said sarcastically.

Reade ignored him. “Why do you want to know all of this? How is it going to protect you?”

Scott looked up from the grimoire he was reading and used his thumb to bookmark the line where it advised to extract the venom from a snake.

“You’re reading about ways you can die, ways you can be poisoned, be killed,” she continued on with confusion and uncertainty. She caught of glimpse of sympathy in Jackson’s kind gaze. “Daggers that aim for the heart.”

“We need to know what weapon the enemies have, before we can go against them,” Scott said.

Reade shook her head. “My father isn’t the enemy. He’d never hurt a fly, let alone—”

“We’re not specifically talking about your father, Reade,” Scott interrupted. “We’re talking about every hunter in the world. These are limited edition items; these have been passed through ancestry lines. These recipes, these instructions, this entire pile of merchandise… It will prepare us for the future.”