Chapter Twenty Five

Flashback

Brett was sitting on the windowsill of the attic, quietly leafing through the Book as two heavy arms wrapped around his shoulders and legs appear on either side of his. He smiled a sad smile as he closed the book and took a deep breath before reading two o'clock on the grandfather clock he had Porter bring up to the attic because it kept getting trashed downstairs while Wyatt was never around to squeeze money out of to get it repaired.

"Hey," he said in a small, mostly relaxed voice. "I didn't think you'd be back this early."

He felt small nibbles and kisses going along the back of his neck as the other sniffed his hair.

"Um...uh...Matt's already asleep and...God...n-no one else's at ho-ho-home," he gasped, trying to hold in a moan as an ear lobe was taken into a mouth. "Now, th—tha—that's just ch—ch—cheating."

He felt the kissing stop and hot breath by his ear. "Good. We won't be disturbed, then."

Brett felt revulsion spread through him and he shot up from his seat, staggering back a good three feet while turning around, causing him to nearly trip on the rug.

"What the...what the hell do you think you're doing?!" he hissed, furiously rubbing the nape of his neck.

"Oh, come now, Brett, I was just having some fun," Wyatt teased as he got off the window bench and started towards the other boy. "Besides...I think you know what I think I was doing."

Brett crossed his arms and stepped back, putting as much distance between himself and Wyatt without making it seem like he was backing down. "Oh, I know what kind of 'fun' you want, but, this little obsession of yours? Stops now."

Wyatt only smirked and slightly scoffed. "Oh, please—" Wyatt said as he stepped closer.

Brett grit his teeth and he knew that the fire building in stomach wasn't anything like the fire he felt when he was with Chris, and that just made him feel all kinds of dirty and disgusting.

"I'm warning you, Wyatt," Brett said as his gaze steeled. "Back off."

Wyatt only smirked again and this time the chuckle he chuckled was open and very hard to ignore. "Or what?" Wyatt asked coolly. "What could you possibly do?"

And then its Brett's turn to smirk because there was no way that Wyatt could be serious about this. "You mean besides trap you in your own mind for the next thirty years?" Brett cooed back, like spikes hidden underneath fresh grass. "'Cause, yeah, you could really hurt me as a vegetable."

Wyatt's stance shifted and the arrogant air that's usually around him seemed to have mostly evaporated and, besides his anger and hurt pride, only his crude, spoiled self was showing; the one that knows that he'll always get what he wants. Always.

"And, what? The others would just think that I was attacked by a demon? Would get that close?" Wyatt answered back harshly, not unlike a man who's upset because his intention and bravado were seen right through and all his careful planning had been for naught. "Me? The most powerful being alive? No, that wouldn't be suspicious at all, wouldn't point back to you at all, because, honestly, you haven't shown the slightest bit of dislike for me since you got here," Wyatt bit back. "I mean, really, you're the only being between three hundred different races that have the kind of power. Do you really think you'd get away with it?"

Brett's eyes dimmed for a second and Wyatt caught it.

"What? No cutting remark? No witty reply?" Wyatt cooed. "Really, Brett I expected—"

Suddenly, the fire that had been on a slow burn in the pit of Brett's stomach burst from his torso and traveled all over his body, showing in his eyes. His eyebrows were furrowed in not a little anger, disbelief, and resentment as he spat back words fueled by hatred.

"Or I'll tell others all about your dirty little secret," Brett hissed in hushed whisper as Wyatt's expression shifted from slightly upest to pissed. "I'll tell them all about what you're up to down there, what you've been doing—"

Wyatt's lips curled, his teeth almost baring, as he stared down the shorter boy while white hot rage burned through him, speaking with harsh tones and dirty glares.

"And what, pray tell, have I been up to?" Wyatt hissed back. "And, even if I was, why would they believe you? It's not like you haven't made any mistakes based on assumptions recently. What makes you think your precious family would side with you?"

For a moment, both just kept staring at each, locked in a battle of wills and wit.

Brett looked away first.

"I'll—I'll find something, Wyatt," Brett said as he turned to stalk out of the attic, shaking his head. "You were always messy. I'll find something, some mess or mistake you left, and then I'll get Chris and we'll—"

When Wyatt spoke, his tone shifted from pissed to completely calm, back to that smug persona of himself and Brett didn't like it.

"How is my little brother anyway?" Wyatt asked in mock innocence.

Brett froze in the door way.

"I feel like I haven't seen for years."

Brett turned slowly, eyes squinting, voice raspy and hoarse, caught between lying and giving Wyatt what he wanted.

"He's at the club."

Wyatt just kept on smiling that condescending smile; the one used by poker players who knew the other person's hand or wolves who knew that they just cornered their prey.

"Really? I thought he'd be somewhere else at this time of night," Wyatt chuckled and his voice got lower as he stared at Brett under hooded eyes. "I know I would be."

Brett visibly stiffened and he couldn't help slipping some of the revulsion out with his voice. "Leave him out of this."

"Oh, I won't be doing anything," Wyatt smiled, almost laughing. "Although, I can't say anything for the Maraki demon he went after tonight."

A pause.

"He'll just have to be surprised when he finds that he just attacked an entire tribe."

A second passed between the exchange, but it seemed like the longest second in the history of their lives.

His jaw tightening, "You're the next Source," Brett said with slightly widened eyes as comprehension and abhorrence washed over him, sounding more like a statement than a question.

Wyatt just grinned.

"An ambush?" Brett said disgustedly. "You coward."

Wyatt scoffed, "You're one to talk—"

Brett's eyes blazed.

"He's your brother!"

"He's a means to an end," Wyatt simply stated.

For another moment, cold, arrogant eyes met defiant, angry ones, neither giving way, neither budging.

Then—

A small, nearly unheard sigh.

"What do you want?"