Before I could open the door, Graysen got there first, turning the handle and standing aside to allow Sage and me to enter first before following me inside and ducking into the bathroom. I went straight for the kitchen, switching off the flashlight and tossing it onto the couch as I strode past. I carefully placed the canvas bags on the granite counter, making sure the one that wriggled wasn't going to fall off, and then I quickly got to work while Graysen was in the shower.

It only took a few minutes. I'd done the same thing yesterday morning and the effects of the residue should appear within 24 hours. I was just giving it a helping hand by reapplying a second coating. I discarded the crushed and bruised leaves and the gardening gloves in the trash bin neatly concealed within a pullout drawer in the kitchen before beginning my second just-as-spiteful-as-the-first plan. Pulling out the silver kettle, I filled it with water and pressed down the switch to start it boiling.

Sage cocked his head to the side in curiosity as he sat on the kitchen tiles, watching as I rose up to claim a coffee mug and the salt shaker from a shelf. I unscrewed the shaker's lid and dipped a teaspoon inside to carefully collect a teaspoon of the white grains, sprinkling it into the mug. I heard the tell-tale sound of the shower being turned off. Hurrying to the bookshelf of numerous car magazines, in date order no less, I snatched one out and swiped my finger along the edge of a single glossy page. Heat and pain flared outward from the paper cut on my forefinger and a fat bead of blood burst from the ruptured skin. Sliding the magazine back in place, I moved back to the kitchen and let three droplets of blood splash into the coffee mug that bled through the salt collected at the bottom and turned it pink.

The shrill sound of the kettle boiling pierced the air as Graysen swaggered out of the bathroom with a towel loosely wrapped around his hips and hung so low that delicious masculine V was on show along with the smattering of dark hair. As he strode to his make-shift wardrobe his gaze sliced to me before dropping to my mouth and lingered. Dark sensuality lowered his eyelids in hunger.

A look he didn't even bother trying to hide.

His craving had surrounded us both the last few days, thickening the air like a bonfire catching and smoke spilling out with rolling heat. It would be so easy to step inside the raging flames and let myself burn. And for a moment a mindless hum crept up my throat as I briefly closed my eyes, that sensual stare whispering over my lips and evoking memories of steam-damp skin sliding against one another when our two bodies were entwined. Ever since the bathroom escapade he'd been thinking about our kiss and I'd been thinking about it too. The way his demanding lips had moved over mine while his brutal hands roamed as much as mine had done too. Both of us at war, wanting to dominate the other with slashes of red poetry, biting teeth, and clashing tongues that spoke more of our truth than we were willing to say aloud.

I'd dealt with my body's traitorous reaction to our kiss by once more becoming snarky the past few days, while he simply disregarded my blatant rudeness at every single turn.

Opening my eyes, I tried to ignore the way Graysen's skin glowed with that freshly showered look, as well as that fine figure corded in muscle and ink. Nevertheless, it made my heart beat faster and honey-coated desire flowed over every sensitive place in my body. He was more comfortable being barely clothed these days, or perhaps more accurately, he was doing it on purpose, taunting me to pounce on him.

Ire lit my blood.

Gods, his damn towel was beginning to tent. He had a one-track mind. Sex. With me.

Rolling my eyes at him, I turned away as steam funneled from the kettle and the automatic click of the switch popped up.

Behind me, I heard the grating sound of a wooden drawer being opened and closed as he snatched out a pair of boxer briefs. Even irritated, my gaze was drawn to the polished kettle on the kitchen counter, and I used it like a mirror to leer at him.

Graysen whipped the towel away, folding it neatly and hanging it over the back of his office chair before bending over. I raked my gaze greedily down his scar-ruined back to his tanned, taut ass as he stepped into his navy boxer briefs, straightening and bouncing a little on the balls of his feet as he tugged them up and over his godsdamned erection.

Hellsgate he's glorious.

Graysen suddenly stilled, his wet hair dancing as his head jerked to the side as if he'd sensed my appreciation.

Shit.

I got to work pouring hot water into the cup to dissolve the salt. I stirred the water with a teaspoon, the metal striking the porcelain insides with a chink, chink, chink.

There came a rattle of coat hangers and the soft sound of Graysen's armor being pulled on, a whirr of a zipper, a clipping of buckles. While he dressed, I untied the knot in the neck of the wriggling canvas bag, opening it wider to peer inside to see a pair of round russet-colored eyes blinking up at me. Right now the otherworldly creature was cute and fuzzy and tiny, the size of a squirrel, all fluff with big bat ears and a long rattish tale.

I'd been reading the book that Dustin had given me that detailed Zrenyth's mites the past couple of days. Though at first, I thought the creatures listed near the beginning were of no consequence, I discovered that this one, a Brunnie that lived in burrows beneath trees and loved to eat squirming juicy grubs, had an alternative life cycle if it encountered salt and watery blood.

I blew on the teaspoon to cool the water down before leaning in and lowering the teaspoon of the saline water infused with my blood into the bag. The Brunnie shrunk back but its tiny black nose sniffed. Then a long thin tongue darted out to lap at the concoction I'd specially prepared for it.

***

Nelle was checking me out—again.

Her brazen interest caressed my ass as I bent over to pick up my new boots from where they sat beneath my makeshift wardrobe. "My eyes are up here," I drawled as I snapped straight, twisting around to point toward them.

A flashfire of anger exploded within Nelle's gray irises turning them feral. She tossed her teaspoon into the sink with an insipid clink of plastic on metal. A black scowl scrunched her nose as she yanked off her cream shawl, unpeeling it from her dress that crackled with static electricity. Haphazardly folding the shawl, she threw it onto the kitchen counter next to several canvas bags.

While I'd been in the garage servicing the Ducatis and she'd been out on her early morning run, black despair had murmured beneath my skin and rattled against my bones like chains. Hopelessness had plagued her the past few days, rising like muddied water to drown the lightened spirits.

It was dangerous to let her wallow in hopelessness and fall into depression.

I had a natural talent to inspire her anger so easily. Anger burned and destroyed and overwhelmed other impulses. It was a distracting emotion. One that lit a single flame in the darkest hour. Vengeance could end the starved gnawing of desolation.

It was so easy to stoke her anger when I strolled around half-naked to stir lust. She liked what she saw. Hated that she liked me, yet couldn't stop herself from staring. She adored the V, appreciated abs and forearms, pretty much anything I had on display, but Nelle was an ass girl and she lusted after mine.

I flashed her a smug grin and a wink—to which her nostrils flared as she bared her teeth and hissed. I placed my boots down beside my bed and strode to the office chair. I grabbed my towel from the back of it and walked to the linen cupboard to dump it inside the wash basket. I could hear a rustling of rough fabric and it sounded like Nelle was messing with one of the canvas bags in the kitchen. Absentmindedly scratching the back of my neck, I headed back toward the opening in the tower as the sun peeked over the horizon and smeared the sky in dusty peach and blues. Sunlight speared inside the room, catching the pink glitter stuck to my old boots and making them sparkle. There was no use keeping them, but for some fucked up reason found I couldn't throw them away.

A sea of voices and the rapid stomp of boots on cobblestones floated from the inner courtyard as staff and soldiers returned from their warm-up. Our brusque Weapons Master bellowed new orders above the commotion, and as everyone split into various groups their chatter fell away. All three of my brothers would be in attendance, along with Ferne, and I was getting ready to join them before I met up with Mela once more.

Jett and I had crossed paths in the garage when one of our staff had picked him up from the runway after the Lear had touched down. He still was surly as fuck, but there seemed to be a peacefulness radiating off him as if wherever he'd gone had re-energized his soul. Like the asshole he was, he'd ignored my question of where he'd gone after he ducked out of the Escalade last night. As he made his way across the cavernous garage and its oil-stained concrete, I noted the relaxed line of his shoulders and leisurely pace, and caught another scent clinging to him: female.

The asshole had fucked himself halfway through the Houses and the city, so it could have been anyone, however, the scent was familiar in a distant sort of way, and as of yet, I hadn't figured out who'd kept him company.

Stooping over, I snatched up Nelle's flashlight from the leather couch where she'd just fucking tossed it away, and headed for the bookshelves, testing the battery by clicking it on and checking the yellow light against my palm. Satisfied, I placed it back in line with the other I kept up there for her, and then wandered over to the tallboy to pull open a drawer and picked out a pair of socks.

"Are you heading out again today?" Nelle asked with the godsdamned usual snark to her tone that jarred my nerves. Glancing over my shoulder, I skimmed her figure standing in front of the kitchen sink. She'd plaited the front pieces of her hair into a pretty braid that swept across her hairline and left the rest loose to fall over a shoulder. Her dress was white with an antique lace overlay that hung lower than the shift beneath it. The neckline would have been higher on my sister but it draped low on the swell of her breasts and clung to the edges of her shoulders.

"Yeah," I replied, lust roughened my tone. Tipping back my head, I pushed a hand through the wet hair sticking to my forehead to shove it back and pretended not to notice when Nelle's attention darted to my mouth. Her gray eyes grew hazy, darkening like an impending storm. Intense lust, almost a tangible touch hovered over my lips.

The atmosphere shifted once more.

The air charged and grew sweeter and heady with her arousal.

I'd been thinking about our kiss the past few days and so had she. Her craving had been building much like a looming firestorm, a glow of fearsome orange cresting a craggy mountain, the sky blackened with churning smoke. Its savage energy lashing outward, threatening to incinerate our bones to ash.

Nelle had been caught out, and that was all on her. She abhorred the fact that I knew she liked our kiss. She more than liked it, she wanted more of it, more of us. She refused to admit that there was something deeper than wyrm and tamer chemicals. She could deny it all she wanted, but the chemistry sizzling between us could light the entire Keep.

She blinked with awareness, and the fire of lust winked out with mortification.

A blush stained her cheeks a pretty rose pink. She spun away, a little flustered as she unplugged the kettle and put it back in its spot. Her delicate fingers wrapped around a mug. She obviously was in the midst of making herself a cup of tea, something she'd quickly adapted to doing herself since Penn couldn't tend to her every need like she was used to from her staff back home. Except...as my gaze slid sideways, there wasn't the jar of honey I kept for her to sweeten her drink. There was just the salt shaker on the counter.

My gaze sliced to her and narrowed.

What the hells was she up to?

Stilling for a heartbeat, she shifted around once more to face me, and the color on her cheeks faded. It was the squeak of her feet on the tiles that dragged my gaze down to her tiny toes.

Pine needles and wet leaves were stuck to her dirty bare feet and up her ankles. My jaw ticked and an itch festered down my spine, urging me to scratch it. I had an irrational need to haul her to the bathroom and shower the mess away. I didn't even know how she could be out there barefooted this time of the year, it must have been freezing. And somehow it never bothered her enough to wear a pair of shoes. I'd noticed the weekend of Evvie's betrothal when I'd carried her sleeping figure from the tithe prison and tucked her into bed, that the soles of her feet were soft and not calloused the way they should have been.

Nelle tapped the mug with the curve of her forefinger. "I came across an art studio in the forest. Whose is it?"

My gaze shot back to hers. "Aunt Valarie's."

Aunt Valarie had left it to rot where it stood. Overwhelmed with grief, she'd entered the studio after my mother had been stolen, and only left it when we discovered my mother was still alive. When she'd locked the door behind her I'd always felt that she'd locked away what she once was, the carefree aunt with warm smiles and a big heart, the aunt who had all the time in the world to give to us.

None of us had broken into her art studio. We'd always been respectful of her sanctuary, even after it became a graveyard of dusty artwork.

"Huh," Nelle muttered, clearly not liking it but curious nevertheless.

I could have told her that my aunt hadn't always been cold and malicious, but she wouldn't believe me. Hells, even I forgot at times.

Deep in thought, she twisted around and put the mug in the sink, and then sucked on her fingertip.

A faint metallic scent tickled my nostrils...blood?