An intoxicating declaration. The last time she’d felt such a rush was when she’d found Prince as a pup. Only back then, she had been the protector. She hadn’t declared her promise so loftily, though. But then, she wasn’t Maxen Fury. She had come to an irrevocable conclusion, or rather finally, fully accepted the one already there.
She didn’t want to leave.
Not her shop.
Not Brighton.
And not—ahem—well, justnot.
So here she was.
Prince padded beside her, his presence reassuring. The fact that he calmly accepted this den of beasts without a growl or howl alone felt like a kind of sign. Dogs growled at people they didn’t trust. People who threatened their territory. Bad people. As though they could sense the intentions behind the person.
Prince hadn’t once growled at Maxen. And if the hound could sense something in Maxen Fury worth trusting... maybe she could, too. Granted, not everything. But enough.
Hah.
What would the big, bad beast think if he learned he wasn’t so big and bad and beastly after all?
“Where are all your brothers?” she asked as Maxen led her to a door leading to the personal rooms.
“Out on business,” came his simple reply.
“Is one of them still missing?” Calliope asked, recalling this matter.
The front door slammed open before he could respond. Calliope jumped, her heart leaping violently. Her hand brushed her trousers, as if to reassure herself she was still disguised, still someone who might pass unnoticed. Maxen moved at once, pivoting with feral quickness, shoving her behind him. The sudden menace in his body—the sheer readiness of his actions—sent her pulse racing for all the wrong reasons.
Two figures stood in the doorway.
One bore a jagged scar slashing down the side of his face; the other sagged against him, badly beaten. Stars, blood was dripping from his head to his ripped shirt.
Calliope grabbed the back of Maxen’s coat.
“Found him,” the scarred one said.
“What the bloody hell happened?” Maxen demanded.
“Run into a bit of trouble,” the bloodied one said hoarsely.
Calliope blinked, her mind scrambling. This must be the missing brother. Yet she didn’t recognize either man.
The pair staggered to the bar, the scarred man hauling his brother over, keeping him upright by sheer force. Maxen surged forward to meet them, and with her hand still holding onto his coat, she was yanked along before she could even blink! She released him at once, heat pricking her cheeks.
He stopped short, turning back. “Calliope?”
She waved him off. “It’s nothing, go help your brother.”
He hesitated, torn, his hand flexing as though he might reach for her, but he turned to meet his brothers.
“How bad is he, Drake?”
“Don’t know,” the one with the scar said. “We need to get him to his bed.”
“I’m bloody fine.”
“Serpent,” Maxen said low. A warning.
What a strange name.
