O0o 4 You Will Not Pass

Ellaine had her hands full. She had bread dough rising and soup on the stove in large vats. There were vegetables on the table ready for prepping. Keita was cutting up squash. Both of them were red in the face, and Jules didn't think it from the heat. "Hal come this way?" He asked casually, peering into a pot to see what kind of soup.

"Yes," Ellaine said. "Would it be too much to ask if you didn't get him... excited... before he starts his daily business?"

"I didn't plan it," Jules defended.

Keita threw a bunch of squash pieces into a bowl. "Please, please, have your honeymoon away from the manor," he said. "I don't want to hear the screaming."

"He says it'll fit." Jules couldn't resist saying that, and both his friends flushed even darker. He laughed, and started stirring the soup. "I never thought about a honeymoon," he admitted. "We're not really on a schedule to find out about each other."

"That doesn't mean you wouldn't enjoy some time together," Ellaine pointed out. "Do you know the date yet?"

"No." Jules got a clean spoon to taste the soup. "This is good."

"It's my mother's recipe," Ellaine told him, smiling. "Celery, bacon, squash and heavy cream boiled into chicken stock." She took Keita's finished work, and dumped it in. "I have a pot of fish chowder for those that want that instead."

"I might have both," Jules told her. "What's going on in the house today?"

"The elder Novars are getting ready to go out with my husband, for thrill-killing carp," Ellaine informed. "I predict a winter filled with fish recipes. The master's young brother is lurking about in his room with his repugnant servants, Cardiff standing guard. Meg is probably at her school today. I haven't seen her yet. The smooth talking tailor is out with Sam, if you can believe it. Similar ages, I suppose."

"You're pretty caught up on where everyone is," Keita remarked.

"Dear, you can't be a domestic as long as I have without figuring out what questions to ask to whom, and, when," Ellaine told him. She turned and began punching down the risen bread dough. "Jules, if you want to help, kindly go down into the cellar and count how many bottles of wine we have on hand. Someone might need to go to the main storage and get more."

Jules made it a quick run down to the cellar and lit some lamps with the handy matches kept by the door. He shut the door, though, to keep the cold breeze from entering. He counted fifty-two bottles. He grabbed one, and brought it up. "Fifty-one, because we're drinking this one," Jules said. "I'm in the mood for it. Have you had it yet, Kei?"

"No," Keita said.

Jules poured them each a gla.s.s. Ellaine drank hers like someone would take it away from her. Keita had a taste, and smiled. "It's good," he said, drinking a little faster.

"It certainly is," Ellaine told him. "We all drink quite a bit of it."

They shared the bottle. Keita got a little tipsy, and was given food to prepare that didn't require knives, like stripping ears of corn for corn chowder. Jules washed out the bottle and put it into the rack meant for the empty ones.

Lucien suddenly entered the kitchen, reeking of three-way alpha s.e.x. He ignored everyone, slicing himself some already made bread. He cut off some b.u.t.ter, using Ellaine's vegetable knife to spread it.

Ellaine ignored the lack of manners, and got a crock of cold milk from the ice box. She poured it for Lucien and went back to punching down dough. Lucien's eyes slid to Keita, and darkened. He licked his lips. "What a pretty omega," he commented.

Jules didn't hesitate. He stepped into Lucien's line of sight. "No," he said, shaking his head. "Keita isn't for you. Halian promised he'd be free to choose his own mate."

Lucien swallowed down the bite he was currently masticating, and eyed Jules with distaste. "You don't get to tell me what to do, omega wh.o.r.e."

Ellaine inhaled sharply.

Jules smiled at Lucien. "Novar blood or not, I will kick your a.s.s if you take one step toward Keita, now or in the future."

"How dare you speak to me at all, much less threaten?" Lucien said, his brow furrowing. "I'll have you horse whipped."

"It wouldn't be my first time," Jules told him.

Lucien c.o.c.ked his head. "I see what my s.e.xless, uptight brother likes about you," he mused aloud. "He's always enjoyed disrespectful omegas." With that, he picked up the gla.s.s of milk and sloshed it into Jules's face.

Jules stood there, dripping, and didn't make one move. He stared at the boy.

Lucien slapped him open-palm across the face.
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"Master Novar," Ellaine whispered fiercely. "Your brother will beat you b.l.o.o.d.y!"

"He'll do no such thing," Lucien said. "All I have to do is mention how displeased I am to my servants, and Halian will find himself in dire straights." He punctuated his point by hitting Jules again, this time a hard back-hand.

Jules still didn't move. He continued to stand in Lucien's way, dripping, his face stinging.

Lucien picked up the b.u.t.ter smeared knife, and looked at the edge. "I want that omega in my bed," he said.

"Too f.u.c.king bad," Jules replied.

Lucien swung, and Jules countered with a fan. The knife went sailing off to the left and buried itself into the backdoor's frame, quivering with the force.

"Have to be better than that," Jules informed coldly. "You're not bending Keita over."

Lucien took two steps back and grabbed an extra poker from the wall rack. He raised it up and brought it down, fast but not nearly fast enough. Jules deflected, and twisted his arm, bringing the poker down in such a way that Lucien had to let go of it or risk getting his wrist wrenched. Jules caught it as it dropped, and threw it into a corner.

Ellaine fled the room, and Keita retreated far back, knocking his chair over in the process.

"You need your smart mouth sewn shut," Lucien said. "You don't have any right to deny me what I want, s.l.u.t."

"I don't ???? what you want," Jules countered. "You're a spoiled brat that needs his a.s.s worn out with a stick."

Lucien's face transformed from anger to livid hate. He grabbed a jar and hurled it at Jules, then another and another. Jules used his fans to fend off each one, sending broken gla.s.s all over the kitchen. He was faster at defending himself than the boy was capable of throwing, and by the time Lucien hefted a heavy sugar jar, Adrian and Isla were descending upon them.

"What is the meaning of this?" The patriarch of the family bellowed, s.n.a.t.c.hing the sugar container and slamming it down so hard it cracked in half on the prep table.