“What did you mean with that last bit about feeding?” I ask, unable to let it go. Strategic information.
Phoenix and Layden both look my way. Phoenix drops her face, turning away—shame, perhaps?
“Can I tell h—” Layden asks her, seeking permission.
She waves a hand without looking. “Whatever.”
“Phoenix isn’t like... them.” Layden scowls, looking toward the door with clear distaste. “Not exactly.”
Phoenix huffs out a mirthless laugh. “Aren’t I? Just indirectly.” She turns back toward me, meeting my eyes with unexpected directness. “When my ancestors feed, it feeds me. Don’t ask me why.”
Ah. Part of the blood magic, I take it. A connection maintained through?—
Before I can ask more, though, I feel my head getting heavy. My vision starts to dim at the edges.
No. Not now.
Dammit,not now.
This is an incredibly delicate political situation we’re all navigating—vampires and witches and spirits infiltrating human technology. Not to mention how precarious things are with Lauren. Remus better not screw anything up?—
But then my vision goes black as I fall helplessly into deep, undreaming sleep.
My last conscious thought is a prayer that my brother doesn’t destroy everything I’ve carefully built.
TWENTY-EIGHT
REMUS
I wakeup to find myself standing in an unknown room, and it takes me a hot second to orient.
Obviously I’m still within the vampire compound—I can smell the death-stench of them everywhere. Layden and the head vampire’s granddaughter are the only other ones in the room, but I can scent others were here recently. Abaddon. More of the bloodsuckers.
The granddaughter—Phoenix, I think? She’s watching me oddly. Warily.
How much has Layden told her about us? About the switching? Does she know she’s looking at a completely different person than she was talking to moments ago?
I start to head out the door without a word of explanation. If I follow Abaddon’s scent trail, I’m sure it’ll take me back to our quarters. Back to Lauren.
But it’s only once I’m outside in the dim hallway that I pause, the reality of what just happened slamming into me.
The shower. I was inside my woman—inside Lauren—after my brother had just woken up. An impossibility. And yet there he was, awake and so fucking suave and sure of himself, suggesting weshareher like she’s a gods-damned toy.
My hands clench into fists so tight my nails bite into my palms.
How long has the tactician been working against me? Plotting behind my sleeping back?
He not only woke when I was supposed to be in control of the body but then kicked me out. Just shoved me into darkness like I’m nothing. Like this body isn’t mine too.
What did they do together after I was gone? All I can think about is their naked bodies slathered in soap in that shower, water cascading over them, his hands on her?—
My teeth clench so hard I’m surprised they don’t crack and crumble.
I am no fool.
When warriors come against me with tactical perfection and coordinated strikes, I meet them with overwhelming chaos and rage. I am the storm they cannot predict. I am the madness that breaks their careful formations.
After all this time—thousands of years—still my brother does not truly know me.
