In a smooth wave, Fury launched from his chair and caught her before Layla could fall out of her chair and bash her head upon the coffee table. They came to standing as he scooped her up, his arm wrapped around her waist, holding her close to his incredibly firm, rock-solid body. Layla had thought he might be chilly, but Fury was like Reginald, almost scaldingly warm as if Sirens ran hotter in the deep oceans of the world. Layla was obliterated as he held her close, his full, beautiful lips just a breath from hers. Staring up at his deep blue eyes, she saw silver flash through them, though Fury was able to hold his Dragon back now as they touched.
“Like a Siren to the sea…” He breathed, staring at her with amazement. Layla didn’t know if he was referring to her or himself at their sudden, inescapable draw. But she felt their attraction like a darkwater tide rushing between them; sweet and cold yet somehow hot and deep all at once. It was luminous, and it shuddered Layla to her marrow as she fell into it.
Her eyelashes fluttering closed as Fury’s lips eased closer.
Suddenly, Layla felt a firm, commanding presence step to her back. “Layla Price. Enough.”
Reginald’s stern command was like a harpoon of hot golden energy slicing through Fury’s obliterating tide. Layla gasped, struck by her Partner’s furious energy as he grasped her, gripping her throat and hauling her back from Fury. Thick desire pulled between Layla and Fury; she felt like he was being siphoned out of her veins as Fury stumbled back, gasping a breath like a drowning man. Held firmly in Reginald’s arms, Layla keened as she felt his uncompromising oceans close around her, cutting her off from Fury’s silver-dark decadence. But she also breathed out in relief as her Partner corralled her away.
Backing them up ten paces from Fury, who now stared at Layla like a man gone mad.
“Why did you take her away?” Fury spoke with dark heat, as the bright silver of his Siren flashed through his eyes, wrathful and unhinged.
“Because you are not yourself, brother.” Reginald commanded sternly, still holding Layla pressed tight to him as he corralled her magics back from touching Fury.
“I want her.” Animal need shone from Fury’s eyes as he stared at Layla, silver devouring his irises. It was like staring into the eyes of a wolf that you knew could tear your throat out with a single lunge. Except this beast was far more dangerous than a wolf.
And far less sane.
“Fury.” Reginald spoke with a dark warning in his voice now. “Layla is not of our Lineage; she would be drowned if you dragged her down to the deeps with you to rut in hedonistic pleasure as is your way. She is not a Royal Siren, my brother. Layla would be killed. Is that what you want?”
Layla saw the Siren inside the man pause. She saw it think about accidentally killing a potential mate, and that wasn’t what it wanted. With a dark will, the Siren pulled back from the man’s eyes, the silver in Fury’s gaze seeping away. A drowning blue of utter desire replaced it, as Fury swallowed, shivered, then lifted his wineglass to his lips and downed it in one gulp.
At last, Layla felt his energy come to containment. Resuming his seat shakily, Fury gestured to the settee where Reginald and Layla had been. Keeping his hand around her throat and the other around her waist, Reginald actually pulled Layla into his lap as he sat, keeping her close. Releasing her throat, he reached out, claiming his wineglass and giving it to Layla, though he didn’t take any more for himself.
She drank it down entire, just like Fury had.
“So tell me about how you came to know of our parentage, Fury.” Reginald spoke at last. Corralling Layla back to him once she was finished with her wine, he set his hand back up around her throat gently, massaging her with his warm fingertips. It was deeply soothing and possessive, and Layla sank back into his touch, her drakaina relieved. Like a massive cat, her Dragon curled up to take a deep nap inside her, trusting Reginald to keep her safe. Still watching Layla, though his gaze said the human side of him was considering things now in a deeper light, Fury poured himself yet another wine.
“You were not here when mother passed, Aldo,” he spoke, his gaze finally shifting to Reginald, “but you know she called me in to her, casting the rest of the family from the room before she went.”
Though Reginald still cradled Layla close with her back against his chest, Fury’s gaze slid to her yet again, as if he couldn’t help the massive need inside him from his Siren-Dragon. Layla felt Reginald thrust his brother’s power away as it tried to slither in and touch her again. With a deep breath, Fury wrangled his beast harder and Layla felt that massive coil ease back to the sea, abandoning the living room at last. But as his gaze slid to her a final time, Layla could still feel the depth with which she and Fury had connected, there just beneath the surface. Though they were all continuing their conversation like civilized beings, there was something very not civilized raging beneath it all.
Raging to be let out, should either Reginald or his brother slip in their attentiveness.
“Your madness began just after that, after the time you spent alone with mother at her deathbed.” Reginald spoke again, cool and calm, though Layla could feel Reginald still eyeing his brother warily. “You went mad as your Siren-Dragon that very hour, erupting into your first full shift and rampaging in your madness, though most thought it had to do with mother’s passing. Are you saying you went mad because of Hunter that day?”
“I was distraught when mother passed, yes,” Fury spoke, holding Reginald’s gaze, “but though I was dark in my grief, the words she told me about Hunter being our father were darker. It was the things she said, and bade me keep locked inside my deepest of hearts, that made me go mad.”
“Continue.” Reginald’s words were like ice, though his body was still warm. Now that the metaphysical pyrotechnics were over, Layla felt tired, and the deep heat of Reginald’s body was soothing. Closing her eyes, she drifted in his gentle tides as she listened to the two brothers.
“On her deathbed, mother told me of our family history with the Red Letter Hotel and the Crimson Circle,” Fury continued, his voice low and melodious. “Leni told me Adrian hunts the final two pinnacle members of the Circle, but he needn’t hunt any further. One is dead – our own mother Queen Auriana Morregain. And the other has given his membership away to someone who is also dead – our Siren King Léviathan Durant, who gave his place to our half-brother, Bastien.”
“Léviathan and mother were Crimson Circle?” Reginald’s breath was hot at her cheek, and Layla turned in his grip, her eyelashes fluttering open to see Reginald staring at his brother intently.
“They were, long ago.” Fury continued with a nod, his dark blue gaze dire. “You know mother and Léviathan had their affairs over the years, but for the duration of their partnership, mother was deeply in love with Hunter. He would come to her in dreams to deliver his will, which she would relay to Léviathan. Mother was instrumental in building the Hotel for Hunter long ago, something she never talked about. Upon her deathbed, she gave me her ring of Ownership – the emblems they used before pins – and bade me take over her place upon the Owner’s Board. Though she wished her place upon the Crimson Circle serving Hunter to die with her, and for good reason.”
“Mother helped build the Red Letter Hotel?” Reginald leaned forward now, his grip too tight at Layla’s neck. She shifted and he eased, though his energy was still intense.
“She helped set up many of its egalitarian principles.” Fury nodded, a smile touching his lips now. “Mother was a humanist. Unfortunately, she had terrible taste in men. Over the long years of their association, Hunter began to confide in her, telling her that he could feel patterns of the future in his dreams. He told her that the nets he wove were all based upon strengthening various futures he desired, and weakening ones that were less desirous – something he calledthe Pattern.”
“Go on,” Reginald breathed, as he held Layla.
“One night, Hunter came to mother in person for the first time, as a powerful Silver Siren.” Fury continued. “He told her he had seen her take an important place in the Pattern. Hunter told her if she consented to his body, he could give to her two sons, more powerful than any children she had borne yet. Twins, one Golden Siren and one Silver, each with a role to play in his ideal future. Mother was in love with him by then; she consented. And from their union was born the last of her children – you and I.”
“So we are nothing but strings of Hunter’s, pulled from the very start.” Reginald breathed, his voice dark with rage.
“At the beginning, yes.” Fury lifted an eyebrow, a look that was identical to one of Reginald’s. “But that’s when things became complex. When we were just seven years old, Hunter came to mother in person for only the second time in all their long association. He told her he’d been watching us grow, watching our powers open, and he told mother the process wasn’t coming along fast enough. So he told her she had to confess to Léviathan that the Gold and Silver twins were not his. Even though she was reticent to confess our bastard parentage to Léviathan, she did. Léviathan was furious. He raged for weeks as you recall, abusing mother, beating you and I mercilessly, but most importantly, renouncing his place completely in Hunter’s schemes – including his place on the Hotel Board and in the Crimson Circle.”
