Nodding, Arius huffed a sound that Lyle couldn’t identify. Laughter? Annoyance?
“Who keeps you from sitting beside me, Lyle?” Arius tapped the bench. “The Committee or your father?”
“Both.” The answer was out of Lyle’s mouth before he realized he was going to respond.
“Because they have made you afraid of me?”
“Somewhat,” Lyle agreed. “Mostly they have made me afraid of me.”
Arius clucked his tongue and patted the bench again. “Then you have given them your power, Son.”
The switch in address didn’t go unnoticed. Lyle lifted his gaze to Arius’s and swallowed hard. That had sounded a hell of a lot nicer than ‘dog’ or ‘pup’—sexy, even. It wasn’t the word, or the strained connection between him and his father or whatever the hell the Freudians would throw out there, it was the drawl that
