For a second Ira allowed himself to feel satisfaction when Kaname lowered his tail — about god damn time, the Princeling thought snidely in true Ira fashion — though it did not last long. When the ebony man had the nerve to call Ira the ‘prodigal’ son, the teen’s temper flared hot and searing beneath his pallid pelt, his black, leathery nostrils flaring. “Who are you to call me prodigal?” The Princeling spat, arrogant to his very core it would seem, as he pulled himself up to his full height, eyes harsh and as frigid as dry ice. He didn’t care that this man could probably take him for Ira’s stealth was only a formable ally when he wasn’t injured. It was not this insignificant creature’s place to call Ira wasteful, it was no one’s place but Jinx’s (and probably Lecter’s seeing as how the latter was his step-father) and considering the man before him was not Jinx Ira did not plan to stand under the scrutiny of judgments he felt confident the man was making. He didn’t care. Ira didn’t care if this male attacked him, he didn’t care because all he wanted was his mother. Was that so hard to grasp, he wondered? He just wanted Jinx.
“Calm myself,” Ira repeated with a sharp indignant snort. Until this man got Jinx he didn’t feel like calming himself because he had never (and would probably never) listened to anyone but Jinx. “Well find her,” Ira hissed, wondering how in the hell a member of her pack didn’t even know where she was. Ira doubted Jinx would have just slipped out the territory without letting someone know. That would have left their territory open to an invasion or whatever. “That’s none of your business.” Ira snapped sharply at Kaname, irritable, recoiling back when the man studied the wound on his neck, his eyes warning him to stay away. Hearing that Jinx was worried about him made his heart sink and then skip a beat but then he shook it off because he didn’t believe it until he heard it from her mouth himself. The last Jinx had known Ira had gone to Swiftcurrent to look for Bones, and though the pallid Princeling had gotten his answer he had left them, peaceably. It was the wolves of Tortuga he had not left in peace, and by heightened reflexes and pure shit luck he had managed to avoid being killed. Or maybe it had been some kind of divine intervention. Whatever it was, he had abandoned all hope of ever seeing Bones again.
Jinx had been right, of course. He only hoped she didn’t hate him for being a stupid teenager with a crush. To love is to destroy, to be loved is to be destroyed.
