He stopped in front of me and took his time looking me over from boots to eyes. His expression gave away nothing. Power bled from him, coiled and familiar.
Behind me, Nadia drew in a sharp breath.
“Hello, Mr. West,” she said, voice too bright. “I didn’t expect you home for several more weeks.”
He did not spare her a glance.
He stalked around me in a slow arc, examining me from every angle as if I were a horse he intended to purchase.
Nadia’s shoulders tensed. “I can explain,” she blurted. “This is just a friend visiting. Short term. Very… short.”
His posture shifted.
Bone and muscle moved under his skin. The glamor peeled away, and the pleasant landlord façade dissolved. His features sharpened. The air chilled. That familiar scent—old stone, winter wind, bitter iron—rose around him.
Nadia’s hand flew to her mouth. “What the hell?”
Cassian stood in the foyer. “Hello, brother,” he said.
One step, and my forearm pressed across his throat, pinning him to the wall hard enough to rattle the frames. My senses roared at the contact—old anger, older grief.
“Where,” I snarled, “have you been?”
His eyes flashed, more annoyed than threatened. His hands stayed loose at his sides.
“I have been busy not being stabbed through the chest with experimental venom,” he rasped. “Release me, and I may elaborate.”
“Three-hundred-and-seventy-five years,” I said through my teeth. “I rotted in a casket while you played house with tyrants. And now you stroll through the door I am sworn to guard as though you own it.”
“I do own it,” he choked. “This is my house, remember? Ask your human, I hired her to house-sit.”
That only fueled my rage.
“Cristian.” Nadia’s voice trembled behind me. “You’re crushing the drywall.”
Cassian tapped my wrist in irritation. “If you want answers, you might ease up on my throat. The dramatic entrance loses effect if you crush my larynx.”
I held him there a heartbeat longer, just to prove I could. Then I eased my arm back.
He rolled his shoulders and tugged his shirt straight, thoroughly unembarrassed. “I was waiting,” he said calmly, “for the right moment.”
“The right?—”
“For my entrance,” he continued. “Last night, you stomped through Ambrosia’s boudoir in a state of rare desperation. I considered that a promising sign. I thought I would see what you were up to before the court turned your life further upside down.”
His gaze slid past me to Nadia.
“You look dreadful,” he said, tone abruptly curious.
Nadia blinked. “Excuse me?”
He took a step closer, studying her face. “Dark circles. Slowed pulse. Nerves frayed. Does my house not treat you well? Or is it the vampire you woke from stasis that keeps you awake for all hours?”
I moved before I realized it, closing the space between them until Nadia stood within the circle of my arm. Lena, who must have been lurking in the doorway, gasped.
Cassian’s attention snapped to her.
“Well, hello there,” he said smoothly. “And who might you be?”
