Fire spreads over my neck as I shake off her compliment. “Anyway, what were you saying?”
She wiggles her brows at me. “Don't be mad that I have the other Jameson, I know they’re twins, but--” The last name pauses me.
“What do you mean by the other Jameson?”
“Ah, you told her?” Parker enters the lounge, sipping on a glass of whiskey. “Punk is dating Atlas, Asher's brother. They'll be here—” He looks down at his watch. “—well any minute now.”
The glass almost slips in my hand, cognac sloshing against the rim. “What?”
Parker doesn't flinch. “Asher's coming.” He blinks. “With Atlas.”
My pulse kicks up. Thirty days. Thirty-fucking-days since I've heard from Asher, and now he's showing up? Without a word? I haven't heard from him since Christmas.
Punk shifts uncomfortably on the chaise. “I was going to tell you—”
“When?” The word comes out sharper than I intend.
She winces. “I thought Parker already did.”
My eyes land on Parker, who's examining his whiskey. “You didn't think to mention this?”
“I'm mentioning it now,” he says, as if it’s no big deal.
Heat floods my chest, spreading up my neck. This is typical Parker—dropping bombs with the emotional range of a fucking teaspoon. But Asher? Asher doesn't play games. He calls. He texts. He shows up unannounced at three in the morning to make sure I'm breathing.
Except not this week. Or last. Or even the past year after my birthday. There have been visits, sure, but they've slowly died out into nothing.
“Your bags are upstairs,” Parker adds, already moving toward the door. “Daniel's waiting out back.”
I drain the rest of my cognac in one burning swallow and set the glass down harder than necessary. “Thanks.”
Punk reaches for my hand as I pass. “Ivy—”
“It's fine.” I force something resembling a smile. “I'm happy for you. Really.”
She doesn't look convinced, but she lets me go. It's not a lie. If Atlas is anything like Asher, then I’m happy for her. Let's just hope he doesn't like to disappear the same way his twin does.
Cold air hits me as I slip outside. Veilarath's always been my escape—the one place where the world can't touch me, where the snow buries everything ugly and dangerous about my life. The mountains rise in the distance, their peaks cutting into the darkening sky. Beautiful. Deadly.Mine.
Except right now, even the familiar weight of this place feels wrong.
Daniel leans against the Range Rover, breath misting in the frigid air. He straightens when he sees me, opening the door without a word. I climb in, and he slides into the driver's seat, pulling away from the front door with ease. I thought it ridiculous when Asher convinced me to build Daniel a watchtower. I tried telling him he's good at his jobbecausehe doesn't need something so extreme, but he didn't let up. That was the old Asher.
“You good?” Daniel asks after a beat.
“Peachy,” I answer, tight.
He snorts. “Right.”
The watchtower comes into view with all its Gothic hard lines. Perched on the edge of the property, it overlooks the valley where Mount Crow bleeds into shadow. I've always loved it up there. Quiet. Isolated. No one to pretend for.
Daniel parks at the base, killing the engine. Neither of us moves.
“So,” he says, staring out at the snow-covered landscape. “Asher's coming.”
“Apparently.”
“With his brother.”
