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Chapter 21

Two women huddled in the alleyway behind Murphy’s Pub, their wrists outstretched, looking at each other in bafflement. A third clutched her neck.

Dammit, Rowan.

The moment Kenton had sensed another vampire in town the night before, he’d contacted both Rowan and Drake. His younger brother, it seemed, was doing Lord knows what in Brazil. Rowan hadn’t responded.

The two first families always detected Cheld first, and he’d already confirmed with Lawrence that Torr was not in town and was apparently back in England.

That left Rowan.

And his brother was clearly furious with him. Case in point, the mess he’d left outside of Murphy’s. If he’d needed to feed, one woman would have sufficed. This behavior was driven not by a need for sustenance but by a taste for sport and a wish to punish the older brother who’d always encouraged him to keep a low profile.

He’d searched for his brother for nearly twenty-four hours, but his brother had a talent for only being found when he wished to be. He’d been an accomplished hunter as a young knight—a skill set that had followed him through the centuries.

Not able to find him, Kenton had appealed yet again to Lawrence and Laria for help. Whatever they planned to do to keep Alessandra safe had to be done immediately. When they assured him it would be done that day, Kenton hadn’t hesitated. He’d agreed, again, to leave the life of the woman he loved in the hands of his enemies.

He remembered the confusion he’d felt all those years ago upon awakening one morning with the hunger for blood. Centuries had passed without him experiencing that disorienting feeling of confusion, but he felt it again now. Rowan, his brother whom he loved, had become his enemy.

His brother would already know where he was staying, of course—he hadn’t exactly attempted to keep a low profile. Without any other leads, Kenton left the alleyway and wound his way around the courthouse, moving toward the stairs behind it.

He froze.

“Sloppy, Rowan,” he said, referring to the three women behind Murphy’s Pub.

Turning, he waited for his brother to catch up to him. Everything about his brother ventured toward the extreme, including his swagger. No one would doubt them to be brothers, but Rowan’s personality lent him an edge Kenton lacked—and a sense of danger no woman in centuries had been able to resist.

And his brother knew it.

They embraced, but his brother immediately pulled back and took him to task, as Kenton had known he would.

“You’re up to something, Kenton.”

And so it began.

“A Cheld is here, in Stone Haven. And instead of telling us, you’ve ingrained yourself here, pretending to be a model citizen, and sent no more than one text message in weeks. Why?”

Rowan’s directness had served them well throughout the years, but just now, Kenton would have embraced a bit of small talk.

“I believed there was one here, yes, but I found nothing.”

He looked, without flinching, into a pair of ice-blue eyes that mirrored his own. Indeed, he didn’t move a muscle as he cursed the necessity of his lie.

“Lawrence,” Rowan growled.

“Not this time,” he countered. “He’s been looking as vigorously as I have.”

His brother would never believe it.

“Is that what he told you? And you bought it?”

“I believe him.”

Rowan’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t.”

Going on the offensive, he countered with, “Why all the secrecy? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

His brother gave no quarter. “I know you’re up to something. And I aim to find out what it is.”