Many younger siblings are often paranoid about being stuck in their elder siblings’ shadow. You were raised in Hunt’s - and more than grateful for it. By the time you’d started understanding what was going on, where you were, who you were, he’d requested tutors for you. Educating you on all he could, even if it was partially illegal knowledge.

As you grew older you never had the chance to live always kept in close compartments near Hunt. You learned how to pack your life into a small satchel. Often being stuck in a room with him, you opted for the smaller bed, the smallest crook as to leave as much space to him. Why? Because you eternally felt like a burden.

So as you grew up, and you approached your 200th birthday in Crescent City, where Hunt and you had finally found a little.. dare I say, peace. He had Bryce. You had him, you suppose. Syrinx was yours secretly though.

You worked as a healer after deciding it was a way to always see Hunt, he always needed patching up and when he was with Sandriel, and the others.. he’d need medical attention.

You were a special case yourself though. An angel, wings of course; of a white so bitter it looked pristine blue at times, but at the bottom of your wings they faded a little grey. Extremely pretty. It had drawn lots of attention when you were younger, so you hid them. No other recorded angel could do it - Archangels included. You could summon and hide them at will. It kept you safe during your childhood.

That and Hunt’s forehead kisses as an infant.

“Come on,” Hunt sighs through the phone pressed to your ear and shoulder. “It’s your 200th birthday.”

“Hypocrite. You hate celebrating your birthday. Well, before Bryce.” You retort, but the last part is grumbled. You were lonely. With your salary and skills you were paid well, enough to rent a cosy penthouse about five minutes walk from Bryce and Hunt.

“Yes, but Bryce taught me to love it.” Well I don’t have anyone to teach me to love it. You almost snap back, but don’t. You take a deep breath. “Just plan a dinner or something. Drinks beforehand. Nothing big.”

So the following weeks later it was your big day. 200. A work shift that your boss had laughed at when you offered to take the evening shift at a last resort to get out of tonight. She shooed you out of work at 1pm. After spoiling yourself with an overpriced cupcake and coffee you sulk home to find Bryce on your doorstep. “I decided we could get ready together? I didn’t want you to be too lonely.”

She was a sweetheart, truly. You were happy for your brother and her. Only you wished you had the same.

So over homemade cocktails and party music in your en suite you both enhanced yourselves with powders and other makeup in between chatter and laughs. “Can other species mate?” Bryce asks, adding eyeliner.

“I’m not sure, honestly.” You respond, brushing in some subtle highlighter to the inner corner of your eye. “Maybe.”

That question was answered when your linked arm with Bryce was tugged into the boujee bar; twinkly lights, by the sea, even in this weather with heaters. Everyone was dressed up accordingly; shirts, dresses, heels, makeup. You stumble in the heels gifted to you by Bryce. A pair you’d been eyeing for months.

Stood beside Hunt, grinning widely, untamed red hair was someone. Someone with muscles that would taste sweet and salty under your tongue. Eyes that crinkled at the corners and lit up with warmth. A smile that was so smooth and easy it made your chest ache. A voice so smooth and masculine and.. oh.

“Yeah, Bryce.” You nod shakily. “I think other species can mate.” You could smell the sea off him from here. And trust me, you weren’t a romantic. But for him..?

He and Hunt turn to you, his smile dropping completely as your eyes lock. Something akin to longing was fiercely obvious in his eyes. He stepped forward, lips parting a little, and eyes tracing over you. Not skimming. Slowly devouring every inch with his eyes.

Hunt hugged you, for once, oblivious. “Happy birthday.”