That drew a frown from Alastor, who was probably just bitter that I was insisting on a seat after refusing his commands only moments ago. But he stepped out of the way, though his continued scowl made it clear he was not happy about it.
And I took my place at the table once more and pulled the tray of cheese back in front of me for good measure. I felt like I deserved some fancy cheese after everything they’d put me through, and I was still secretly hoping that theshivery-ness running through my entire body was low blood sugar or something.
Alastor took his old seat across from me. And his brothers sat down on either side of him—Radven to the left, Octavian to the right.
They also took off their masks.
I didn’t want to stare, but I was too fascinated by these brothers to fight the urge. I compromised by not letting myself look at either for too long, instead glancing back and forth between them until I got the full picture.
Octavian was, as I’d guessed, absolutely breathtaking. He had one of those jaws that looked like it could cut glass, which was covered with a finely groomed layer of stubble that was one shade darker than his relatively short, sandy hair. His azure eyes were even more vibrant when his face wasn’t hidden behind a mask, and he somehow seemed even bigger and broader now, too. If Alastor wasintimidatingand Radven wasdangerous, the one word I would have used for Octavian wasmajestic.He was big and imposing, but in a mesmerizing way.
And then there was Radven. He was intriguing as well—beautiful, even—but in a way that gave me the distinct impression that he wouldabsolutelymurder me if he thought I was a threat to something he cared about. His face was narrower than I’d expected, his features angular and refined, and when he was still, he almost looked like a work of art. When he moved, though, even a little bit, it was with that same primal, predator-like grace that I’d noticed before. He was like a sleek but deadly panther, cruelly beautiful. He leaned back in his chair, propping his feet up on the table in what should have been a casual pose, but his dark green eyes watched me sharply, following every move I made. His hair, like Alastor’s, was nearly black, but Radven’s was straight and tied back, and a stark contrast to his pale skin.
My eyes flicked back to Alastor in the middle. In fact, the dark hair that Alastor and Radven shared was theonlysimilar trait I noticed among the three brothers. Radven was pale, while Alastor’s complexion was a golden brown, and Octavian’s skin was olive. And their eyes—forest green, nearly black, and azure blue—should not have been genetically possible in brothers who shared the same two parents. They were all striking, but in completely different ways, and none of their primary physical features showed any familial resemblance.
“You guys aren’t actually brothers,” I blurted in my shock. I quickly realized how rude that was, so I added, “I mean, not by blood. Obviously there are other ways to be brothers. Family comes in all shapes and sizes these days. Nothing wrong with that at all. I’m just…surprised.”
It was Octavian who said, with much patience and a quick glance at the other two, “Yes, brotherhood comes in many forms.” He turned his eyes to me once more, his mouth sliding into one of his charming smiles. “But that’s not your most pressing question, is it?”
“No,” I admitted sheepishly around the big hunk of cheese I’d just shoved in my mouth. Sometimes the only way to keep myself from babbling was to stuff my face with food. “You were going to tell me about this curse.” It still felt really silly to use the wordcurseas if I were talking about a real, serious thing.
But the brothers—if that was in fact what they were—were obviously taking this quite seriously, and Alastor had shifted frombroodingintovisibly angry.
“This is ridiculous,” he said, his hands curling into fists on the table. “She’s obviously not the right one.”
“Trust me, Brother,” Octavian replied in that deep rumble, his eyes never leaving me. “I canfeelit.”
“As can I,” Radven added, propping his hands behind his head and still watching me like a cat watching a mouse. “I’m itchy with it.”
Itchywas a pretty good way to describe the weirdshiveron my skin. “Wait—you guys can feel that too?”
Radven gave a single nod, and Octavian said, “Yes, though probably not to the same extent as you.” He looked down at his big hand, flexing his fingers and tilting his palm this way and that as if watching something invisible run across his skin. “It’s theessenceof our world. Everything is made of essence, but certain things have more. And certainpeoplecan feel it and manipulate it.” His blue eyes met mine again. “Here, you would probably call it magic.”
I couldn’t help it—I laughed. But I’d had a lot of alcohol and not a lot of food and this was all feeling a little…absurd. Even for a bunch of delusional rich guys.
Alastor’s fists tightened. And his jaw went rigid with repressed anger, as if he was offended I wasn’t taking this seriously despite his own claims that I wasn’t “the one” or whatever.
“But this has to be a joke,” I protested, lightly scratching my arms against theshiveryitch. “You guys are talking about magic and curses as if they’re real. I’ve had a lot to drink, but notthatmuch.”
“As I told you before, this is quite real,” Octavian replied in his deep timbre. “But I understand that this is a lot to take in.” He glanced at his brothers again before proceeding. “But you’ve just admitted that you can feel it—the essence.”
“I can feel…something,” I admitted, rubbing my arms again. “But I thought it was just nerves. Or the alcohol. Or low blood sugar. Or…”The result of being a sexually frustrated twenty-three-year-old. Or a million other things, really.A terrible thought occurred to me. “Oh my god, you guys didn’t drug me or something, did you?” I glanced at the glass of Scotch, then thought of the goblets of Nectar I’d had upstairs. “If you’ve fed me some sort of weird designer hallucinogens or—”
“You’ve consumed no dangerous substances,” Octavian assured me. “Not by our hand, anyway.”
“Then Nectar was…?”
“Initially from our world, yes. But no different than the alcohol you have here. Exceptyou, perhaps, may have felt its connection to our world.”
I was trying to process all of this. “When you sayyourworld, you mean…?”
“The world where we come from,” Octavian said. “Our homeland.”
There—the emptiness was back in his eyes, only for an instant, when he mentionedhomeland.But then it disappeared as quickly as it ever did.
I had so many questions I wasn’t even sure where to begin. “So this other world you say you’re from—”
“Therador,” Alastor growled. “It’s called Therador.”
