His voice edged with disdain and disbelief, Zeth didn’t look up as he replied. “You’re saying you’ve never raged out? I highly doubt aturnedhas never lost control, not even once.”
Conrad laughed, the sound pompous, mocking. “No, my dear Zeth—” the glare that earned him was sharp—“I’ve never broken something out of anger. Even the lowliest of things has value to someone. I prefer to capitalize on that value, not sully it.”
The conversation was steering into fight territory, so I stepped in, syringe in hand. “Do you know anything about this?” I asked, holding it up toward Conrad.
His eyes lit up when they landed onme, not the syringe. He stepped closer, that penetrating emerald gaze searching my eyes, and my heart thumped louder. When my wolf’s attention turned to him, her interest skyrocketed, and, for the first time in years, she took over my eyes for a blip of a second. This excitement was something she hadn’t felt in a while.
Needing this moment to end, I quickly forced her back down and shoved the syringe closer to his face. “This. The substance inside. Do you know anything about it?”
At lightning speed, he plucked it from my hand and held it up to the light, studying the residue like it might whisper its secrets back.
Zeth slid in close, the simmering darkness of his voice just waiting to bring down his wrath. “Where did you find that?”
“In his dresser, under some clothes.” I shrugged, stepping backward to give Conrad some space as I talked with Zeth. “Everything else was junk.”
Zeth’s hand slid against the small of my back, deliberate and slow. His head tipped closer, and that sweet almond and cherry scent wafted around me as his lips brushed just above my ear. Low enough that only I could hear, he whispered, “Are you sure it’s wise to let him handle this? What if he knows more than he’s letting on?”
The question made sense, and it was something that any good second would ask discreetly, but my focus was on the heat of his breath ghosting over my skin and coiling down my neck. A shiver ran straight to my stomach, making it clench with want as my body betrayed me. My pulse kicked harder.
I can’t do this. He doesn’t feel that way. Put distance between us, now.
Stepping away from him before I lost myself to these lingering emotions, emotions I shouldn’t be having, I found myself in front of Conrad. Wrenching a breath past the fire in my chest, I gruffly demanded, “Well? Yes or no?”
Conrad shook his head. “Not off the top of my head. Though the color is… interesting. The use of glass tells me it’s either veterinary-grade or lab-made.” He shrugged and handed the syringe back like it was nothing.
This was getting into an area beyond my depth. Rubbing my chin, I thought about who would have an idea, and one person came to mind right away.
Snapping a picture of the syringe, I found his name and sent off the picture before pressing the call button and bringing it to my ear.
As it rang, both men moved to stand in front of me, one with a set of eager, tempting eyes, and the other with his arms crossed and a frown carved into his face like it was set in stone. All I knew was I didn't have time for any of that nonsense.
“Hello, Miss Rossey,” came a voice over the phone, jolting me from my troublesome thoughts.
“Rack?” I blinked, confused for only a second before my brother’s frustrated voice bled through in the background.
“Whatever she wants, tell her I’m busy.” He paused. “I’m making a masterpiece, the best invention yet, and I can’t be bothered. Tell her that. She’ll understand. She’s the semi-normal sister. The one who’ll at least kill meafterI’m finished.”
Closing my eyes, I drew in a slow breath, reminding myself that hewas,in fact, a genius who had built hundreds of inventions for the family. Plus, driving to Texas to stab him would be a colossal waste of time.
“It seems he’s busy at the moment, Miss Rossey,” Rack said smoothly.
My nose wrinkled at the sound of a man I considered an adopted brother calling me “Miss Rossey.” It sounded wrong. Made me feel old. Decrepit.
“Rack, quit it. I’ve known you since I was four. It’s weird as fuck for you to call me that.”
“Ma’am—”
My stomach lurched, and I held back my gag reflex. “Oh, fuck no. Dear god. That’s worse! So much worse!” Shaking my head, I tried to erase it from my memory.
In the background, Calix cackled. “Did you just call herma’am? Who the fuck are you, some butler?” His laughter faded into giddy inspiration. “Oh, wait. A butler. I like that. You can be Alfred to my Bruce Wayne!”
There was a long pause before Calix shouted, “Ow! What the hell was that for? It’s a good idea!” Clipped steps echoed, then a door slammed in the background, and I wished I could see the disgust on Rack’s face at the thought of being my brother’s Alfred. That would be hilarious.
Rack spoke again, his dry voice coming out with a bit of heat. “I don’t think your brother is in theright state of mindfor this conversation.”
I tried and failed to hold in my chuckle. “What the hell would he do without you?”
A long silence stretched before Rack delivered a truth bomb that shook me to my core. “One of you would be tasked with keeping him on track and focused.”
