I drove my car like I was in the Grand Prix. The faster I got to the Szarvas estate and dumped their entitled daughter's ass off, the quicker I'd be out of her company.

"Varen you're driving too fast!" Irma shrieked.

"I'm a Crowther for fucks sake!" I had sharp reflexes...unless I was gobsmacked like I had been, starving and watching my scone fall to the floor, or half-asleep and staring down at a girl as she jabbed me in the chest with a wooden spoon.

One of Irma's hands was braced on the dashboard, and the other hand was fighting for control over the stereo's volume button. Aerosmith's 'What It Takes' blared from the car speakers, set intentionally loud, because I wanted to drown out her voice. Steven Tyler had it fucking right. The lyrics in the song pretty much summed up me and Irma.

I kept turning up the music, loud, and she kept turning it down while shouting, "Varen, we need to talk. You cannot keep avoiding us!" Irma spread her fingers over the volume button and slapped my hand away when I tried to push hers aside to turn the music up again.

Fuck my life.

I gave up and sank back into my leather seat. Taking a puff on my cigar I raked my fingers through my hair.

Dappled sunlight poked through the canopy of leafy-green branches laced with rust-red trees that lined the road weaving through the outer band of the Hemmlok Forest. Much like a compound, two high fences enclosed the estates of the Deniauds, Lyons, and Szarvases who shared the forest between them. One was infused with adamere and the secondary fence was electrified with magic. At the entrance of each estate would be twin monolith towers to keep out anything that swifted.

There was hardly any traffic down the country road as no mortal ventured into our terrain, and if they did, they'd never see anything wrong with the estates' set-up because all they saw was what they wanted—simply an innocent fence and a forest. And no one would have the urge to stop and investigate as the magic softly humming from the electrified fences kept them repelled.

It was almost noon, I should have already struck out to find this hole in the ground Sirro had ordered me to investigate. But I'd lingered at the Deniauds', at first waiting for my younger brother Sander to deliver an array of items I thought my twin and I might need for our venture into the forest, but really, I was loitering, hoping to spot Tabitha. I was worried about her encounter with Sirro and wanted to check if she was alright.

I'd finally eaten, thank gods, showered the filth from me, and changed into armor. Even ready to set out, I found I couldn't leave the Deniauds' until I'd spoken with her.

My conversation with Sirro regarding Tabitha was still tumbling around in my head. We'd met as children on the night that Tabitha lost both her memory and her mother, and frankly, what I learned from Sirro about Tabitha concerned me.

Too thin—played over and over in my head as well as what I'd noted about Tabitha myself when I'd latched my fingers around her icy-cold limbs and turned her over. What the fuck had her mother been doing in the forest that night? And what was she thinking taking her seven-year-old daughter in there too?

I had no excuse to go down into the Servants' Quarters where I suspected Tabitha was, and so finally, like a sad sap, I gave up hoping I'd run into her and left. I'd expected my sister to accompany me to act as a buffer between Irma and me, but my jerkass ex-girlfriend commandeered the front seat of my car. Irma locked the side door, declared she wasn't budging, and wanted to travel alone with me. Meanwhile, Byron offered to drive Valarie to the Szarvas estate.

"Please, Varen, hear me out," Irma begged, cutting through my thoughts.

Sunlight skittered off the car's silver hood as I angled into the oncoming bend. Crisp wind flowed through the open car window. Tires splashed through a puddle and sprayed an arc of dirty water while the engine responded with a growl as I quickly shifted through the gears and powered out of the curve. Behind us, the air was awash with a flurry of autumnal leaves as I pushed the Bugatti faster and faster.

At the Servants' Dance Irma had tried upbeat and innocent, almost as if she'd hoped the past had been wiped clean, and now I was convinced she was going to go down a desperate route and up the ante by laying on the guilt, thick.

The pregnancy...

I rubbed my eyes. A tension headache began to build behind my temples, aggravated by the floral perfume she'd doused herself in and the oncoming dread that she was going to bring up my baby.

I shot her a quick scowl. Irma had pushed her plump tits together by squeezing her arms to her sides, and the ends of her gold necklace disappeared into the deep cleavage. She'd also half-twisted around in her seat to face me better, but I think it was more a ploy to angle her long legs in such a way that the short hem of her skirt rode up even higher and exposed her panties or, fuck, the lack of them.

I quickly averted my gaze back to the leaf-littered road, while I sullenly counted down to the theatrics about to begin.

Three...

Two...

One—

Irma opened her mouth and then proceeded with her boring little monologue. I was pretty sure she'd send me to sleep with her yawn story of how hurt she was and how I'd hurt her even more by dumping her cheating-lying-ass.

She dramatically clasped a hand to a breast. "When Jurgana came out of the forest and set her beasts upon us, I thought I was going to die. You too, Varen. And I couldn't bear it. My life flashed in front of my eyes. And my life, it was filled with you, filled with us." As she spoke the last words, she swept a hand through the air before resting it on my upper arm. I shrugged her touch off with an irritated grunt. "There's hardly a moment we haven't been together. All those monumental moments in both of our lives, we've experienced them together, Varen."

I squinted at the road, wondering if Irma's version of monumental moments were us drunkenly celebrating birthday parties together, or lazing around on island beaches and me feasting on her pussy in between margaritas.

"I want to live Varen, really live, and I want to share my life with you. Everything that came before, all of that..."

Irritation slithered beneath my skin. Irma still didn't have the balls to own up to the mess she'd made of everything, ultimately setting me and Gratian on the course of duking it out in the Hemmlok Forest. His death had been reduced down to—all of that. She'd had an affair with my brother and didn't even have the decency to appear grief-stricken over his death.

She fiddled with the delicate handkerchief in her hands. "I know I ruined everything between us Varen, but what you did..." I slid my gaze sideways and there it was, what I'd suspected she was going to use against me—a flash of accusation, a swift sharp glare at what I'd done to her. How I'd hurt her by walking away and refusing to own up to the responsibility of our baby. Nor did I support her when she'd passed me a message through her younger sister, of what tragedy had occurred a month later.

Long eyelashes fluttered, damp with unspilled tears as Irma's gaze filled with sorrow and she drew in a shuddering breath before continuing, "Well, it was nothing compared to what happened last night with Jurgana." Irma dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief. She turned to stare out of the car windshield and said quietly, "So many people died, Varen."

She was right. So many people did die, mostly servants, soldiers, and guards I was pretty sure she'd never noticed before. They'd have served her, but she wouldn't have given them a second thought. I too, had a moment like Irma while facing Jurgana and her world-eating locusts. Except I didn't think of Irma. I thought of a plucky little servant girl I wanted to get to know better.

I tapped the steering wheel with a finger and ground out, "Irma, you pushed Rosa in the way of one of Jurgana's beasts. That's how you managed to survive."

I shifted up a gear and sped down a straight, resting a wrist on the steering wheel while taking another puff of my cigar. I chanced a glance at my ex-girlfriend and observed the surprise and guilt tempered with bitterness tightening her features before she quickly smoothed them away. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, readjusting the black crushed-velvet dress, tight and revealing, clinging to her curvaceous body. She idly combed her fingers through her long chestnut hair sprinkled with golden highlights. "She stumbled, Varen," she said snidely. "I didn't push her. I mean, you know Rosa and her particular physique... She's not the fittest of people."

I snorted, rolling my eyes at her description. "Rosa's my friend."

Irma started laughing. "Oh, Varen," she admonished and slapped my arm with her hand. When I didn't laugh, hers began to sputter out. "Rosa Battagli? When did you two become so close? You were always moaning about the fact she wouldn't shut up, that she gets on your nerves."

"That was before I got to know her." Rosa had more backbone and morals in her little finger than Irma did in her entire body. And after this weekend I was beginning to respect Rosa and her fondness for Fluffy.

I heard Irma muttering something about Laurena and not initially believing her. She spoke louder this time, addressing me. "I heard from Laurena that you and Rosa...?"

I kept my glower on the road ahead. "Me and Rosa—what?"

In the corner of my eye, she waved a hand as if she were trying to remember what Laurena had said. "Laurena mentioned something about you biting Rosa's big ass?"

I grinned, took a puff on my cigar, and blew smoke right in Irma's face because I knew she detested it so much. Irma coughed and sputtered and waved the cloud of white smoke away. "Var," she frowned, her perfectly groomed eyebrows drawing over her slightly upswept eyes.

My teeth grated together. I hated her shortening my name, more so now.

I had no idea how what I'd said to Laurena back at the beginning of the weekend ended up being me biting Rosa's ass, but whatever. It worked for me.

"Rosa has a fine ass for biting, more than a glorious handful of sexy-as-hells curves," I purred to Irma while casting a disparaging glance her way as if to say she had nothing on Rosa Battagli. In truth, she really didn't. "Rosa's kind and funny and great with dogs, and she kicked her big fine ass out there on the battlefield with Jurgana. And yeah, we did kiss..." I said slyly enjoying winding her up. "A big old French-Kiss-Fest of kissing," I murmured, but loud enough for Irma to hear every word. "Best kiss I've ever experienced. Best. Kiss. Ever."

Tabitha's was the best kiss I'd ever experienced, but Irma didn't need to know that. Just the thought of Tabitha's legs hitched around my hips and her kissing the hells out of me had me beginning to harden up.

I caught Irma's jaw clench as her fingers fisted around her handkerchief. The green in her hazel eyes darkened with jealousy. "Give me another chance."

"I don't do cheaters," I hissed. I clamped my teeth around the cigar and took a corner sharply which threw her sideways and had her squawking.

Tabitha had hissed the same term at me—Cheater. It actually felt good. Cathartic even. Maybe I should have done this ages ago and purged myself of Irma-the-cheater Szarvas. I shot her a black look. "Once a cheater. Always a cheater."

Irma righted herself. Her face collapsed into heartache as she fiddled with the hem of her very short dress, and sniffed. "I'm sorry, Varen. I truly am for what I did to you, to us. I was missing you and we barely talked while you were away on business and somewhere along the way I got confused and tangled up with Gratian." She placed a hand on my forearm, squeezing her fingers around the muscle, imploring me to listen. "I fell for your brother's advances. He wouldn't take no for an answer, and he... Well, he pursued me relentlessly."

I shook her hand off. "My brother's advances..." I scoffed, shaking my head.

Gratian had been a man-whore and I wouldn't put it past him to fall into bed with Irma—which he had done—but only if she'd made the first move.

"You were away a lot."

"I was away for a month dealing with the cartels in South America, Irma. Not exactly stuck halfway around the world for half a year," I drawled, stealing the cigar from between my teeth.

"I was so lonely without you, Var."

I was tempted to kick open the door and shove her out—100 miles per hour be damned.

"You were lonely for company." I mocked a pondering expression, tapping a finger on my bristly chin. "And the first thing you think of to ease your loneliness is to sleep with Gratian. Interesting." She began to protest, and I cut her short, slashing a hand, my fingers pinched around the cigar. Streams of white smoke wafted through the air. "There's no point talking about it, Irma. You fucked my brother."

She collapsed against the seat and things were quiet for a bit, apart from the sound of the engine, her sniffles, and the songs from Aerosmith played at a low volume.

"I still have this, Var," she said quietly.

My eyes slid sideways and I saw her wipe a tear away with the handkerchief, careful not to disturb her mascara. She pulled the strands of her necklace out from the depth of her ample cleavage and held the end aloft. A ring dangled at the very end of her necklace.

Though rancor burned the back of my throat, a strange mixture of loss and gratefulness washed through my body.

The diamond ring that cost a fucking fortune for the perfect clarity, a round cut I knew she loved, showered the inside of the car with sparkling light as the engagement ring twisted back and forth. The engagement ring I'd presented Irma with two years ago when I'd proposed.

I'd taken Irma to Paris, and one night on the balcony which wrapped around a penthouse that overlooked the rambling rooftops of Paris with the Eiffel Tower lit up with sparkling golden light in the distance, I'd asked Irma Szarvas to be my wife and she'd said yes. But she wanted to wait until her sisters were married. And of course, like a fucking idiot, I'd agreed, because I pretty much did whatever she wanted to keep her happy. She'd kept the ring because she'd promised me soon enough we'd announce the engagement.

At the time I'd been slightly demoralized by her choice, but I could wait. I didn't see it as a ploy to ensure I was an heir. It was expected that she and I would marry, and I expected it too. We'd pretty much been together forever and this was just the next obvious step in our relationship.

I shot another quick glance Irma's way. She stared at the ring swaying back and forth and her eyes sparkled just as brightly as the diamond. Irma liked grand gestures backed by glitz. And finally, now I could see that this ring symbolized everything about her. It looked pretty and shiny and sparkly, but it was just a cold and empty stone—worthless.

I suspected that Tabitha wouldn't like those types of grand gestures either. That she'd be happy to be relaxing beside a lazy stream with dragonflies buzzing in the shade of the wild rushes edging the bank, and be overjoyed to be presented with a plain unadorned white-gold ring.

I concentrated on the road and navigated a series of corners, frowning when in my periphery I saw Irma unclasping the necklace. She tipped the ring into her hand and went to slide it on her ring finger.

Oh, hells no!

Before she slid it on properly, my hand whipped out and snatched the ring from her. I flung the engagement ring out of the car window before she could react.

Irma's mouth gaped as she twisted around in her seat to stare through the back window. "Oh my gods, Varen. Stop the car. Go back, we've got to find it!"

There was no way in Nine Hells I was ever going to do that. Instead, I slammed my foot down on the accelerator and the Bugatti surged forward even faster with a vicious roar that had Irma falling against the back of her seat.

She pushed herself upright and shouted at me, "Are you insane?!"

"You know what, yeah, I sure as hells was fucking certifiable to have fallen for you in the first place!"

She gasped, hurt flashing in her luminous hazel eyes.

She slumped into her seat, staring down at her lap as she wrung her fingers together. I'm so sorry, baby," she said softly, glancing at me beneath her eyelashes. Her luscious lips turned down and there was silent recrimination gleaming in the clouds of chestnut brown in her irises.

The air in the car thickened with Irma's ruthless desperation, causing my shoulders to tense and my fingers to flex around the steering wheel.

"I hurt you, Varen, and there's not a day that goes by that I don't regret what I did to you, how I cause you pain...but I was in pain too, Varen. Me. We lost our—"

"Don't you fucking dare," I warned her, throwing up an angry hand. I just knew what she was going to lay down.

But Irma typically didn't listen. "I tried to get hold of you and you wouldn't speak with me. You refused to see me." Tears ran freely over her high cheekbones, dragging lines of black mascara with them. Her bottom lip quivered. "I was fragile and hurting and going through it alone."

I squeezed the steering wheel so hard I could hear the pressure creaking the metal.

"I needed you, and you weren't there for me...for our loss..."

"Irma," I hissed.

"I lost our baby, Varen."

Nausea churned in my gut.

This was the reason why I'd walked away from her when she was begging me to take her back after Gratian's burial. She'd been a complete mess as she sobbed, latching onto the lapels of my jacket, sagging against me as she apologized profusely, then confessed that she was pregnant with my child.

I couldn't stomach how fucking twisted she'd become. How low she'd sunk in her determination to ensnare me. I was reeling from my brother's death and my culpability in it, and she laid that on me. I'd pushed her aside and simply walked away, needing to get as far away from her as I possibly could. From that point on, I shut down and didn't speak of it to anyone. Not even Valarie.

"I know what I did was wrong, but what you did," she accused with hard eyes and a finger stabbing my way, "cutting me and our baby out of your life was wrong too." She clapped her hand across her chest several times. "You broke my heart Varen when you wouldn't acknowledge our baby, and then a second time at our loss..." Her shoulders slumped as fresh tears welled in her eyes and then spilled over. She choked out, "I could barely get out of bed. I was in mourning and so lonely and depressed without you there to help me get through my heartache, and still, you refused to speak with me." Her eyes suddenly slit and became mean and hateful as she slapped the seat beside her with a fist. "You did that to me, to us, to our baby. You're the one who caused me to..." Her words drifted apart because she was too angry and brokenhearted to continue. But she'd made her point. She placed the blame for the loss of her baby squarely on me.

All the color drained from my face. All the warmth and feeling bled out of my fingers, wrapped around the steering wheel. Numb. All of me, numb.