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Do I have any other choice?

He stopped at the foot of the stairs just below the porch.

“Hello, Rowan.”

He didn’t flinch.

Would he attack her here, in full view of the street? She had no idea. Alessandra only knew one thing about Kenton’s brother: he despised the Cheld.

He despised her.

So why hadn’t he killed her that first night? And why wasn’t Lawrence’s bracelet concealing her like it should?

“Kenton lied to me,” he said.

She resisted the urge to respond, Join the club.

If he wanted to banter, she’d play his game. For now. But if Rowan thought it would distract her, he knew nothing of the Cheld. She’d never felt calmer or more focused in her life, and given the situation, that was pretty incredible.

“How did you find me?”

She was too curious not to ask.

His shoulders rose and fell as he stared at her with a combination of loathing and fascination.

“My brother,” he said. “He doesn’t involve himself with humans. Or become defensive on their behalf.”

He took another step toward her, and Alessandra thought again of making a break for the door. Once inside, she’d be safe. But her feet didn’t move. Instead, her hand tightened its grip on the knife again and prepared to strike.

But she hadn’t been prepared for how quickly he could move. Before she even had time to lift her arm, he was standing beside her, his hand on her wrist—turning it, twisting it, his grip like a vise. She finally had no choice but to drop the knife.

Rage filled her. This was her home. Her town. And she would not be bested by an outsider, no matter how old or strong. No matter whose brother he was. Twisting her empty hand away, she released herself from his grip but didn’t stop to celebrate. Instead, she used a very human reaction and kneed him in the balls as hard as she possibly could.

When he stumbled back, she chanced a brief glance at the street. They’d not attracted attention yet.

Remembering to use her momentary advantage, Alessandra sank to the porch and picked up her knife, intending to sink it into Rowan’s black heart. But a voice stopped her.

“Alessandra, don’t.”

That brief pause was all it took for Rowan to gain the advantage. It didn’t matter to him that his brother had shown up. Rowan clasped his hand around her wrist once again, his other hand ensuring she had no means to move by holding her wrist behind her back.

“Rowan”—this time Kenton’s voice was not as gentle—“you have an audience.”

She could feel Rowan’s breath on her neck. The bastard had actually lowered his head to her neck, preparing to, what, bite her? Kill her?

Instead, he let her go, pushing her away hard enough that Alessandra stumbled before she regained her footing. An instant later, Kenton and his brother stood facing each other like two feral beasts. Behind him, on the street, a couple stood immobile, staring at them in shock.

She waved her hand as if to say, Nothing to see here. Which was a bold-faced lie. If Kenton hadn’t appeared, they’d very likely have witnessed a murder. Either of a vampire or by a vampire.

Backing away from them both, Alessandra watched in fascination as Kenton and his brother faced off, pacing around each other. She couldn’t tell who was angrier. In fact, she’d never seen Kenton like this before, like a fallen angel, full of righteous anger.

Alessandra took another step back.

“You’re a goddamn liar.” Rage oozed from Rowan’s every word.

“She is off-limits.”

Alessandra swallowed. The couple hadn’t moved. In fact, they’d been joined by a handful of other bystanders.