With my arms crossed and jaw muscles twitching, I glared at Tase. Dressed in jeans and a button-down, he stood at the liquor cart in front of the sliding glass doors that opened to the deck, Mt. Sousa looming in the darkness beyond. He reminded me entirely too much of our father as he poured a glass of bourbon and held it out to me. I didn’t budge.

He held out his other hand, fingers pinching a fat blunt, its end orange and hot. The definitive odor of pot was admittedly enticing, but I still didn’t move.

“You sure?” He downed the amber liquid, then poured another glass as he toked, holding the smoke in when he spoke. “You look like you could use both about as much as me.”

“It’s not a drink or a hit that I could use,” I muttered.

Exhaling the smoke, his dark brows lifted, his forehead wrinkling in the same way our father’s used to. The same way all of ours do. It’s a Roca family trait.

“Oh yeah?” His arms flew out to the side. “Come at me, bro. Is that what you want? A fight? Need to take out your anger?”

Tempting. But I remained a statue. “What I need is for you to stop acting like a fucking idiot. You held a human hostage tonight, Tase. What the hell is that shit?”

He shrugged, blowing it off like it was nothing. Thirty minutes ago, he was about to kill some guy who was probably barely old enough to drink. I’d walked in just in time. Our other siblings couldn’t control him like I could, not even Adrian, who was also turned. Hell, I struggled tonight. Addie was right—something had changed. He’d gained strength since the last time I had to take him down. His temper had grown nastier in the last few weeks, too.

I’d been trying to watch him more closely since my conversation with Addie, but nothing specific caused the change. Just the curse itself strengthening. Or, perhaps, he’d simply given up and stopped fighting it, letting it take over. Leave it to my brother to take the easy way out, even if it would kill him.

“He was trying to steal from me,” Tase answered. “Rocas don’t put up with that bullshit.”

He quoted one of Dad’s favorite lines.

“Run a con business, and you’re gonna get conned. What’d you expect?”

“I expect some damn respect!” Another of Dad’s lines.

“Then why don’t you try doing the right thing for once?”

“Hey!” He gulped down another glass full of bourbon, then held his finger out from the rim, jabbing his whole hand, glass and all, at me. “I’m trying, man. I’m doing this all for us. For our family. And for that woman of yours.” He took another hit off the blunt, then burst into a coughing fit. When he spoke again, his tone dropped. “I owe her. I know that. I owe all of you. I’m trying to get everything set up right, before—”

I wouldn’t let him finish that sentence. I refused to believe there was an after. I wasn’t ready to give up yet, even if he was.

“If you want to do right by Michaela, then stop making me disappoint her. Do you realize you’ve fucked up every single date we’ve tried to have?”

He smirked. “Maybe that is how I’m helping her. She deserves better than you.”

Well, I couldn’t argue with him there. “And Addie deserves better than you.”

“Touché. Which is why we’re not together and never will be.”

After watching him for a moment, I crossed the living room to the bar cart, deciding I did, indeed, need that drink. “She deserves a better friend than you. She’s busting her ass trying to save you, and what do you do in return? Offer to be a fuck buddy every once in a while?”

His smirk grew into a cocky grin. “But I’m an awesome fuck buddy. At least there’s that.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Not news, brother.” He sighed. “We all know I can’t be what she wants.”

I threw back the bourbon, the liquid burning its way down to the pit of my stomach. “And for some reason, she’s still always there for you.”

“I know.”

“Then keep your shit together, so when she succeeds, she doesn’t regret it. And be honest with us.” I turned toward him to look him dead in the eye. “Did you kill anyone when we were in Montrose?”

He flinched. “What the fuck, man? No! Like I said, I’m trying.”

I wasn’t sure if I believed him. Vampire senses made it easier to detect a lie—we could almost smell it coming off the skin, see it in the subtle changes to pupils and expressions not visible to the human eye, hear it in the liar’s fluctuating heartrate. I detected nothing now, but I had no doubt the curse’s effects were escalating.

“Try harder.” I poured another drink. “To start with, stop with the illegal shit. You do know pot’s legal now, right? I mean, our brother owns the damn dispensary in town. Isn’t that enough? You gotta sell the hard stuff?”

“Eh. Legal’s no fun, bro.”

“Tase.”

“Xandru.” He mocked, taunting me, but I refused to bite. He was pulling me in. Again. “This isn’t about drugs. Not even close. I promise you. This is a mess I’m trying to clean up. I swear.”

“By holding a human against his will? By killing him? If the Court gets any wind of this—”

“But they won’t, right? The only way they would is if someone here told them. I know the rest of the family wouldn’t say anything. That only leaves you.”

“And the human?”

“He’s compelled.”

“And if it doesn’t stick?”

His smirk grew, something flickering in his eyes. “Like everything else, that power is growing.”

Awesome. He was even admitting to it. This wasn’t good. I needed to talk to Addie.

I rubbed a hand over my face. “You’re gonna fucking kill me, bro.”

“Nah. You have too much to live for.”

“You could, too.”

He shrugged. “Maybe if I cared enough. Look, I got one more job and some loose ends to tie up—”

“Damn it. You’ve said that before.”

“One more. I swear, just one more, and I’m out.”

I looked up at him, studying him. He held his palms up to me.

“One more,” he repeated. “I promise.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, but didn’t answer. If he wanted permission, he was asking the wrong person. Of course, Atanase Roca never asked for permission for anything. He was more an ask-for-forgiveness type. I supposed we all were. Our parents had taught us well.

When he realized I wasn’t going to respond one way or the other, he poured himself more bourbon, then dropped onto the leather sofa. “Is everything progressing at the inn?”

I sank down on the opposite sofa. “Yeah, it’s moving along. Weston and McCabe say it should be open before the first snowfall.”

He offered me what remained of the blunt, and this time I took it. “Have they started on the conservatory?”

I tilted my head, wondering why he cared. “This next week, I think.”

He nodded. “Good. Maybe I’ll give McCabe a hand, since it’s a metal framework. Is she still bitching about me paying for it all?”

“You know . . .” I thought about it. “She really hasn’t lately. I guess she’s come to accept it.”

“She doesn’t really have a choice.”

“I don’t know why you’re wasting your time and money,” interjected a female voice. Alina leaned against the rail that set off the sunken living room, apparently sensing that the tension had eased and Tase wasn’t going to bite off anyone’s head tonight. Literally. He’d spilt bourbon all over her earlier during the scuffle, so she’d showered and changed into fresh clothes. Her wet, brown hair hung to her shoulders, dampening her shirt. “She doesn’t deserve shit.”

“Shut up,” Tase and I both growled simultaneously.

She snarled in response. “The bitch killed our parents! And you both think we owe her?”

“Don’t twist the story,” I warned. “You know the truth.”

She snorted. “Yeah, I do. Their family treated ours like shit since forever. She and the rest of them had what was coming to them. You’re the one who’s twisted the story, Xandru, acting like the Petrans are the victims in all this. You even have Tase believing it half the time. But if not for them and their stupidity, none of this would be happening in the first place. Our parents would still be alive—right when things were finally getting good around here.”

“The only reason they were getting good is because Dad was screwing over everyone in town,” I reminded her. “Including the Petrans.”

“Hey, I helped,” Tase jumped in, his words beginning to slur.

“Bro. Not something to brag about. Between the two of you lying and cheating on every business deal you ever made, the Court was going to come around looking for your heads anyway.” I snuffed out the blunt in an ashtray on the end table and turned back to Alina. “We have a chance to make things right.”

She rolled her eyes and turned on her heel. “Are you really going to let the Court be your alpha and bare your neck to them?” she called over her shoulder.

I growled at the shifter insinuation. A wolf shifter, no less.

“She has a point,” Tase slurred. “Rocas deserve some damn respect.”

“Respect and fear aren’t the same thing,” I reminded him. “Especially in this town. Provoking fear gets you killed.”

Tase snorted. “She’s been back for what? Four months? And you’ve already gone soft on me.”

“Almost five.” I shrugged. “I have something to care about again. And I’m not letting you ruin it.” I leaned back in my seat. “So what the hell was that tonight?”

Now that we’d both cooled down, maybe I could get some answers. My brother’s eyes glassed over for a moment, and I thought I’d lost him. Sometimes, liquor mollified the violent mood swings; other times, it seemed to feed them. The pot helped, but Addie’s magic was the only sure thing that worked. I wasn’t about to invite her over tonight, though, with the way Tase had been when I’d walked in.

“I don’t know,” he finally said, his voice soft. “That kid just . . . he got to me, Xan. I lost it.”

“No shit. You really were going to kill him.”

He leaned back, his eyes drifting closed. “Not at first. Just needed to scare him. He can’t be pulling shit on me, stealing product.” His lids lifted a little. “I didn’t mean to lose my temper like I did, but I have to finish this out. I have to follow through and can’t have some little snot messing it all up.”

“What are you into? Who are you tied up with? If it’s not that witch anymore, then who?”

“You don’t want to know, bruh. You don’t want to know.” His eyelids drifted down again. “Hey, you wanna go to Vegas tomorrow?” he asked sleepily.

Where did that come from? “What the fuck are you talking about?”

His head rolled to the side, his mouth open. He drew in a loud snore, out cold.

I scrubbed my hand over my face and through my hair before pulling out my phone and glancing at the time. Just past one in the morning.

Me: You up?

Long pause. Not good. I knew she’d be up for several more hours.

Kales: Working. Everything ok?

Me: Same as always. Want to finish our date?

Another long pause. Way too long.

Me: Guess that’s a no?

Kales: No

I threw my snoring brother a hateful look. My phone vibrated again.

Kales: I mean no, it’s not a no. Come on over

Standing, I debated for a moment whether to haul Tase to bed, but decided to leave his ass on the couch. I stopped briefly in the downstairs half-bath to make sure I didn’t have any blood or anything else splattered on me. As I opened the front door, my mind scrolled through ideas for how I’d make this up to Michaela. I walked out onto the front step to find Sheriff Ric Kasun and Deputy Conall Kasun walking up, Ric in his usual flannel and jeans, and Conall in his tan uniform.

Had they heard Alina’s wolf comment and come sniffin’? I laughed inwardly at my stupid joke. The THC was kicking in.

“Tase around?” Ric asked, somewhat cordially, which I had to give him credit for. Our kinds weren’t exactly besties. Our family wasn’t exactly the Kasun pack’s favorite.

“He’s out cold.”

“Then you got a problem. The ski resort’s alarms are going off.”

Muttering a string of profanity, I pulled my phone out and texted Michaela.

* * *

The metal bar was like clay in my hands. Gripping it in both fists, I squeezed, varying the pressure of my fingers while moving them up and down, molding and shaping what had once been a rod into an elaborate sigil. Many people in town looked down at our ability to control metal as evidence of the Rocas’ blue-collar status. They were idiots. Our creations were art. They were functional. Oftentimes, they were both.

Stepping back, I examined the iron gate commissioned by Emilian Xavier, alpha of the black bears. It wasn’t my most creative design, but it was what he wanted, and traditional methods would have never achieved the lines and curves my hands did. I’d worked on it all last night and today, after Tase and I had returned from a quick trip to Vegas for his “one last job.”

The bears’ alpha and my dad had been friends, in their own way, and when I visited the bears’ property to take measurements for the piece, Emilian had seemed like he wanted to be my friend, too. He’d invited me in, showing me around the bears’ magically cloaked estate, which he called a palace. It was impressive, but so were many of the elaborate manors that dotted the town and the mountain sides, homes referred to as palaces only in jest. The bear alpha wasn’t joking.

Emilian treated his staff like slaves, which I didn’t appreciate at all. My family had once been servants, and not even my dad would have said they’d been treated with such arrogance. From what I could tell, the only reason this Xavier guy and my dad had been friends was that they both hated the Court and the Old Families.

I’d met Emilian’s son, Harrison, a couple of times at the Dirty Knuckle. He seemed all right, but his father was a dick. This was the last project I’d be doing for him, even if he did pay well.

A glance at the time revealed I had a few minutes free to work on my pet project, a small but intricate piece of various metals I was creating for Michaela. I’d started and stopped it several times, scrapping it over and over in my determination to get it just right.

“Why don’t you just make her a ring and get it over with?” Tase’s voice emerged from the workshop’s doorway as I tilted the piece in the light, catching all the imperfections.

“Why don’t you just shut the fuck up?” I tossed it in the scrap pile.

Tase threw his hands up in mock innocence. “Why you so mean, bro?”

“What do you want?”

“Who says I want anything?”

“Tase, my brother, you always want something.” Gripping the edge of the worktable, I glared at him.

“Seriously, man, why the hate?”

I lifted an eyebrow. Did he really have to ask?

“You need to get laid,” he concluded.

Well, he wasn’t wrong about that. “As long as you’re in my life, that’s not likely to happen.”

“What the hell do I have to do with it?”

It took every bit of self-control I had not to jump him and throw him to the ground. “What do you want?”

Sauntering up to the work bench, he lifted his hands again. “Maybe I just want to help you.”

Yeah, right. “You have your own work to do.”

“I mean, help you make Michaela happy. Happy wife, happy life. Isn’t that what they say?”

“She’s not my wife,” I ground out. “Far from it, and the way things are going, she never will be.” Scrubbing a hand through my hair, I grimaced. “I think she’s on the verge of breaking up with me.”

Not that we had much to break up.

“What makes you say that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because we can’t even have one night to ourselves. Since our last attempt, I’ve been in town for a whole forty-eight hours and worked the entire time. Or maybe because she keeps saying she wants to talk.”

Tase made an awful face. “Ah, shit.”

“Yeah. No kidding. She’s gonna call it.”

He walked around the table and clamped a hand on my shoulder. “Not gonna happen. What do we need to do to ensure that? How can I help?”

Shrugging him off, I moved away from him and slanted my head toward him. “You can start by keeping your promise.”

“Which one?”

I snorted. Should have known he’d broken more than one. “About one more job. Remember that one not too long ago? You said one more job to finish out, then you’d stay on the straight and narrow, take care of your own shit, and let me take care of mine.”

He leaned against the workbench, stretching out his jeans-clad legs and crossing one motorcycle boot over the other. “Ah. But I haven’t broken that promise. It’s a multi-part job. A long-term project, so to speak. It’ll take a bit longer to wrap it up.”

My jaw clenched. He’d failed to mention that before.

“Is it for Ronan Bishop?” I asked. “Is it the Bishops you’re all tangled up with?”

He looked at me askance. “No.”

“I saw Ronan in Vegas. In the same hotel as us. Don’t tell me that was coincidence.”

He shrugged. “Must have been. I didn’t see him.” Lie.

“You’re an asshole.”

“You’ve said that before.” He shrugged again. “And I’ve been called a lot worse.”

“Leave me alone, Tase. I have work to do. Work I haven’t been able to get done because I’m always having to do your work or make stupid trips to Vegas with you. Did you get that shit with the resort’s alarms taken care of? I don’t exactly like opening the door to find the dogs on our front steps.”

“The cops won’t be back around. It’s taken care of.” He turned and leaned his elbows on the bench. “So, what do we need to do about Michaela?”

“We don’t need to do anything.”

He picked up a hand broom and half-heartedly dusted shavings into a pile on the table. Why was he so restless? “Surely there’s something I can do.”

“Stay out of our lives. That’s a start.”

“God damn it, Xandru!” he suddenly roared, slamming his fist on the bench. The force sent several items rattling to the floor. Red, veiny streaks filled his face, the green in his eyes brightening as he leaned toward me. I didn’t budge, refusing to show any kind of reaction. “We have to take care of her! I need her to be happy!”

What the hell? “Why do you care about her happiness?”

He growled, the sound much more animalistic than vampire, and bared his fangs at me. “Why don’t you?”

I didn’t justify his question with an answer. Antagonizing the beast would accomplish nothing, so I maintained an outward calm, while inwardly preparing to act if needed. His mood swings had signs, and I was learning them, as well as how the curse affected him. This outburst was caused by real anger, not the curse. The strigoi monster fed off anger, so it could turn bad quickly, but I didn’t think it would. As expected, he backed off, and his breathing slowed.

“I just want her to be happy,” he finally said, his voice back to normal. “I owe her that.”

Without another word, he turned and strode out of the workshop.

“Nope, not buying it,” I muttered as I watched him go. He had way too much interest in Michaela, her business, and her happiness. As much as I wished he had true altruistic feelings, I knew my brother better than that.

Strangely, he made himself scarce over the next few days, except when something needed to be done with one of the family’s businesses. Then he jumped right in, taking care of it so I didn’t have to. I didn’t trust him or this shift in behavior, but his help freed up some time for me to spend an evening with Michaela, and I wasn’t about to pass that up. If I didn’t show my face at her place soon, she’d think I was purposely avoiding her.

When I arrived at the inn, however, it was all locked up, and none of the Petrans were around. Walking around the side of the building, I checked various doors along the way, until I eventually noticed the silence—there were no workers, either. Where was everyone?

After trying the back doors, I went to the cottage, but nobody was there, either. I stood on the porch and dropped my hands to my hips, a growing feeling in my gut telling me something was wrong. Then a sudden noise and movement came from the conservatory.

The only person on the whole property was the last person I ever expected to find here.

“Tase?”

He dropped a shovel as he looked up at me.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

He glanced around, gesturing at the pipes and metal work. “I told you already—thought I’d help McCabe.”

“Does Michaela know?”

“I don’t think Michaela cares,” he said slowly. “She’s gone.”

My chest tightened. “What?”

He fished for something in his back pocket, then offered me an envelope. “I guess she and the kids took off early this afternoon. She left this on her door. Thought I’d bring it to you, but hey, here you are.”

My name was written across the front in Michaela’s loopy handwriting.

I stared at it for several heartbeats, then shook my head, jabbing my finger at him. “No.”

I refused to take what could only be a Dear John letter.

He arched a brow. “Seriously, dude?”

With a growl, I snatched the envelope from him and stomped out, toward my truck. No way was I reading it in front of him. I didn’t want to read it at all. I needed a beer or six first.

An hour later, I still sat on my favorite stool at the Dirty Knuckle, nursing my fourth beer and trying to ignore the damn envelope that lay on the bar, mocking me, when my phone buzzed.

AB: Need you, Xan. There’s been an accident.

Me: Tase

I didn’t even make it a question.

AB: No

A lump filled my throat. My shaking thumbs couldn’t manage to type out my question, and Addie’s response came first.

AB: M and the kids