To Collar and Keep by Stella Price, Audra Price

that makes what, Ben? Two? Three?”
    He nodded. “It’s not bad really. Of course I wish you’d reconsider your stance on joining us. We could really use your…,” he trailed off with a frown. “What is it you do again?”
    “You have no use for my expertise, unless of course you’re opening a business venture where you send hookers to the moon by way of rocket science. I’m not saying no, you know that, but I have a place I should be in Rummer. Provided my father decides that it’s time to give up his seat.”
    “Yeah, cuz, that’s gonna happen.”
    Harley had his suspicions as well, though he didn’t really want to voice them. Boris was not forthcoming with anything involved with Rummer International yet, and even though he kept dangling the position over Harley’s head, he never once stated anything. It was something that he would have to look into.
    “Regardless. You know I didn’t say no. So now that your little talk with Bastian went quicker than anyone thought it would, how long do we have till the wild Satyr shows up? I could use a drink. Anyone else?” He looked at the clock on the mantle and shook his head. “It’s five o’clock somewhere.”
    Ben grimaced, glaring at the clock. “Way to change the subject. We’ve got a little time. I highly doubt a wild Satyr will be early.”
    “You don’t? If he’s here to petition you, cousin, then he will be not only on his best behaviour, but prompt as all hell.”
    “And that is prompt,” said a deep voice from the doorway as the Satyr walked lightly into the room, the step down not fazing him. “Princes,” he greeted with a smile, his eyes taking in the study. “And in such an interesting setting.” He looked over the old oil paintings of the Tempest leaders and families.
    “You think? I keep meaning to have those burned.” Ben waved a dismissive hand at the paintings. “This place needs to be modernised.”
    “Truly?” The wild Satyr flashed a wicked grin. “Can’t say I disagree with you there, but the paintings are your heritage. Says a lot about a man who wants to burn all of that.”
    “Why not burn them? He knows nothing of them anyway, as I’m sure you know. Welcome, Corbin, is it?” Harley smiled and cocked his head at Ben, who handed off his son to Alexander. “Your promptness is commendable, but then again something tells me you’re of the old guard anyway.”
    “Once.” He smiled, bowing his head politely. “And burning them denies you the chance to learn, and I believe they are your family as well, Prince Harley.” He pointed to a painting of a young man next to an older Satyr. “Your father next to his.” He then pointed to an older painting of a large group. “Your great-grandfather and his concubines. Along with your grandfather, his three sisters and his younger brother.” He finished pointing to a young boy around fifteen. “And that group again.” He motioned to another few paintings as the children grew up, this time the little boy was missing.
    Harley looked over at Ben and raised an eyebrow. “And the child?” He smirked, figuring it out. “So you belonged to Tempest or to Rummer?” he asked and sat back. “You’re obviously well versed. But can you read Puckish?” Harley asked so Ben didn’t have to.
    There were several journals left in Missouri at the Tempest compound that led up to the birth of Ben and the mysterious disappearance of his clan. If Corbin could read Puckish, it would be invaluable to Ben and would do much in swaying his decision to accept him into Tempest.
    “The young Tempest prince ran away with his father’s youngest concubine,” Corbin said with a smile, tapping the image of a beautiful young woman that looked to be younger than the boy. “As for my Puckish, it’ll be rusty, but I’ll be able to manage it.”
    “I see.” Ben nodded thoughtfully.
    “Interesting. They couldn’t have been more than thirteen. Though times as they were back then…” Harley looked