Yes, it was incredibly naughty of him to leave her hanging and to actually dine on the real food instead of what he wanted: her.

However, moonbeam would have to understand he wouldn’t be forced, or seduced, into doing what she wanted, even if he wanted it, too.

He’d almost forgotten all his promises and vows when she blew him—Am I insane to say no to the woman who drops to her knees and gives me such pleasure? In that moment, the world, hell, the entire universe, revolved around Aimi. If she’d asked him right then and there, he might have caved to her demands.

Even now with her glowering across from him, a part of him still wanted to give her what she wanted. She is my everything. However, making her the center of his universe meant protecting her, sometimes from herself.

Until the situation with his family was resolved, he couldn’t let her do something irrevocable, such as permanently claim him. Just like he couldn’t let her come with him to this party tonight.

I’ve already put her in enough danger already. He wouldn’t drag her into any more. When she went to the bathroom to douse her girl bits with cold water—Because someone is a cruel bastard who is asking for me to rip off his balls—-he mixed some of the supposedly drugged food from earlier with the current offering.

Since he couldn’t be sure what was drugged and what wasn’t, he swapped the iced tea that came in the first cart and switched the fruit plates.

When Aimi exited the bedroom, he was already eating the untainted version.

He ignored her glare. Harder to ignore was her sitting across from him wearing only a robe. It didn’t help that he could now picture what hid underneath. Her body was a hell of a lot more appetizing than the filet mignon drizzled with butter he currently savored.

“I can’t believe I got ditched for food this time,” she grumbled.

“Got to keep my strength up,” he teased.

“You’re mean.”

“Poor, moonbeam. Do you need me to kiss it better?”

“Yes.”

“Later. If this mission succeeds.” A false hope for them both because, even if he saved his sister, the truth remained: I am still a Mercer.

“You are being awfully close-minded,” she remarked in between bites.

“I am learning how to control my thoughts. Could come in handy tonight.”

“I already told you, it’s our special bond that allows me to read you.”

“Which I don’t understand. How is it we’re linked when you’ve not yet claimed me?” Apparently, the bond fully formed once they exchanged bites. A primitive method but it didn’t surprise him. The exchange of rings and other trinkets derived from human tradition.

She shrugged. “I don’t know why you and I are already connected. Perhaps it’s fate. I’ve heard of it happening with some mated couples, but not often. No one knows why it happens with some pairings and not others. I have something similar with my twin, although we can’t talk as clearly. With others in my family Sept, I can sense strong emotions if I’m close enough, but with you…it’s like we are joined.”

“It’s freaky.” On the one hand, he enjoyed the connection between them. He felt what she did when she let her guard down. An incredible experience when she sucked him, but outside of sex…he couldn’t hide. And I have so much darkness I don’t want her to see.

“Afraid I’ll know all your secrets?” she teased.

“You already do.” Except for the one he kept trying to deny: I think I’m in love with her.

The very idea terrified him. He loved his family, and it had gotten used against him. He couldn’t protect them. Hell, he couldn’t even manage to save himself.

Loving Aimi scared the fuck out of him because it meant he had to do anything he could to keep her safe, even if it meant sacrificing himself.

That was why he locked down his thoughts, why he wouldn’t let her in because, if she knew what he planned, she’d probably rip his dick off.

Her eyes drooped. Blinked. Her head bobbed. Her gaze narrowed. “Whha-t did you do to me?” she slurred.

“Protecting my treasure.”

“Assh—” She slumped forward, and he caught her before she face planted.

He rubbed his face in her hair and whispered, “I’m sorry. But I have to do this alone.” He carried her to the bedroom and stretched her onto the bed.

She looked so peaceful in her sleep. But boy, would she be pissed when she woke. He planned to be far away when the drugs wore off, and she roused spitting mad. He only hoped she’d stay asleep until after he’d rescued his sister or, knowing her as he already did, she’d arrive, ready to eviscerate him.

The clothing she’d ordered arrived within minutes of him tucking her in. The bellhop, a young fellow who stuttered a thank you when Brand slipped him a twenty, laid two garment bags on the sofa. The hotel employee also delivered two boxes of shoes and a bag with a certain famous brand of undergarments on the outside. Nothing but the best for his moonbeam.

Everything fit to perfection, even the underwear. He couldn’t help but dangle the scrap she’d ordered for herself, a lacy little thong that he crushed in his fist for a moment. How he would have loved to peel the panties from her.

Don’t get distracted. He dropped the lacy item and finished getting ready. He’d no sooner dressed in the tuxedo—a first for him as he’d skipped high school prom thinking it lame—than the phone in the room rang to let him know that his ride had arrived.

Performing one last check to make sure he looked presentable, he grimaced in the mirror, not recognizing himself and not just because he wore his human face—albeit older and leaner than he recalled—but because he couldn’t help but see himself differently: taller, straighter, more confident than he recalled.

He blamed Aimi. She’d taken a man broken and almost ready to give up and seen something in him, something that flourished in her presence.

It’s called pride. No longer was he reacting and allowing someone to control him. Brandon was his own man—in a fucking tuxedo, replete with cummerbund and shoes. Aimi had certainly been busy while he showered. He planned to be busier while she napped.

Before he could leave, he checked on her one last time, retucking the covers around her and ensuring a pillow cradled her head. He even brushed a soft kiss on her lips. She didn’t react. He felt nothing through their link, her drugged sleep rendering it inert.

“Goodbye, moonbeam.” When next she woke, he’d be out of her life.

He didn’t look back as he left. Couldn’t or he might change his mind.

When he arrived in the lobby, the desk clerk pointed to the car out front that had arrived to drive him to the party. Except it wasn’t a regular car. Nope, not for his moonbeam. She’d ordered a bloody limo with a driver and everything.

Sigh. He was so out of his element with her. Upon exiting the hotel, a driver—dressed in a black suit replete with hat—tipped his head and held open the passenger door at the back. He tried refusing. Apparently, that wasn’t an option.

“Company policies, sir,” the driver stated. “All clients are to sit in the back.”

With no choice, the imposter in his new outfit sat in the backseat of a limo feeling utterly out of his element.

Nothing wrong with dressing nice. Nice involved clean jeans and a button-down shirt. This tuxedo thing constricted and choked.

The driver knew where to go apparently, and so Brand got to sit back and wait to be delivered to the devil. It gave him time to ponder his course of action. His current plan involved showing up at the front door and brazening his way in.

Who’s got the biggest balls now, Uncle?

Brash pride shouldn’t take the place of intelligence, though. Should he have opted for subterfuge? He could have. He had a location. Brandon could arrive in stealth, and possibly exit the same way.

Then again, why should he hide anymore? After everything his uncle had done, wasn’t it Brandon’s turn to be in the sunlight? No longer did Brandon have to conceal himself. He wasn’t a monster—on the outside. Inside, he seethed with cold rage and a hunger for vengeance.

Crunch his bones. Grind him down.

Let his uncle try and play his games face-to-face with Brandon. He’d take care of him. However, Aimi and her family made good points when they claimed a public event such as this would have Uncle Theo on his best behavior. The public would be watching, and as usual in today’s age of intrusive media, they would judge. If Brand showed himself, his uncle could do nothing to stop him, not without causing questions.

There is nothing stopping me from getting to see and talk to my sister. Should they choose to leave together, what could Uncle Theo do? Nothing without causing a scene.

Speaking of a scene, Brand just about screamed like a girl when, at a stoplight, the passenger door opened, and a silver-haired dervish sat down. The car lurched into motion as he gaped. Finally, he managed to say, “Aunt Waida?” Who else would wear a ball gown of bright fuchsia hung with tassels?

“It’s me, in the flesh, boy. Don’t look so surprised. You didn’t seriously think we’d let you walk into the den of that wolf alone, did you?”

“Why wouldn’t you? I’m not family.”

Whack. The cuff barely rocked him, and Waida tsked. “You’re with my niece. That makes you family by proxy.”

“I’m not with her.”

That earned him another cuff. “Idiot. Lucky for you, I’ve got something that might cure your affliction.”

“What affliction?”

“The one making you stupid. I know what you did and have to say I have a new admiration for your balls, and not just because they’re brave.” She eyed him in a way that made him want to wear more layers of clothes. “You are a rather interesting fellow. A pity you won’t live long. Drugging my niece.” The aunt chuckled. “She’ll make you pay for that.”

“I did it to protect her.”

“She won’t see it that way.”

He already expected Aimi to get mad. That didn’t stop him from doing what he had to. “What are you doing here?”

“I left not long after meeting you. My psychic—”

“You take advice from a psychic?” The disdain might have dripped a little.

“Say it like that again and you’ll see why I’m not the nice sister.”

“You mean there’s a nice one of you?” He wasn’t being completely sarcastic.

“Ungrateful, and after all the work I went to. Who do you think made the arrangements for the limo and whatnot? Can’t trust those who aren’t family these days. Always doing things with ulterior motives.”

“And what’s your motive?”

“The glory of the family, of course. A little fun, maybe some mayhem, that’s good, too. Although I’ll deny it if Zahra asks.”

The flippant answer irritated. “This isn’t a game.”

“Everything in life is a game. Best you learn that now. Especially since you’re one of the pieces.”

“Nice to know I have a use as a peon.”

“Stop disparaging yourself. It’s annoying. By now, even with your dense skull, you should realize that you are an important player, or are you going to continue denying the events that keep unfolding around you?”

“I didn’t ask for any of this to happen. I was a victim of science. Nothing more. I’m not a dragon.”

Whack. The slap to the side of his head didn’t completely capture him by surprise, but bracing for it didn’t completely account for the sting.

“What the fuck?”

“Language,” snapped the matron aunt. “Where we are going, people will be listening, and they won’t offer you any respect or support if you come across as a backwoods hillbilly whinebag with a woe-is-me complex.”

“But I am a backwoods hillbilly.” As to the rest…whining seemed better than giving in to the rage and rampaging.

Rampaging is more fun. Things sometimes get crunched.

“Manner is as manners does. Wealth has nothing to do with it. Do you really think everyone you will meet tonight came from blue blood? Most of them will be commoners. Beneath me. Beneath you. Throw your shoulders back, hold your chin high, and act as if you are the most important person in the room. Because, if my sister’s tests are right, you are.”

“And if I’m not?”

“Then fake it, but for bloody sakes, stop moaning about it.”

“Or what?” Yes, he’d poked the dragon with a verbal stick on purpose.

Slitted eyes spitting green fire fixed him. “You don’t want to know.”

The limo stopped for another light, and just as quickly as she’d arrived, Waida slid from the car, only to have another silver-haired woman take her place.

Aimi, smelling delightful and looking even more delicious, took the seat across from him. He blamed the sight of her thigh peeking from her dress through the high slit for not tossing her out and telling the driver to hit the gas.

Alas, he was weak. So weak before her. He groaned. “What are you doing here? I left you safe at the hotel.”

“You know there are laws against drugging women.”

“I did it to keep you safe.”

“No, you did it because you’re chivalrous.”

Flinched. “Am not.”

“Not completely, given you drugged me. Good thing I expected it.”

“If you knew, then why eat the food?”

She rolled a bare shoulder—that needed one more thing to make it perfect. A bite mark. His to be more precise.

“I ate it because I was hungry. Also, I needed a nap and, given my aroused state, because someone didn’t follow through”—glare—“I needed a little help.”

“That doesn’t explain how you got here. I left almost an hour ago.”

“You did. The limo’s been driving around the city streets close to the hotel. Long enough for me to catch a power nap and get ready.”

“You mean you planned this all along?”

“With a little help. Aunt Waida wanted to see if anyone would jump the car if it were just you in it. She was most disappointed when nothing happened.”

“Maybe they’ve given up.”

“Doubtful. It’s more likely they knew of the surveillance and are planning an ambush later on.”

“How is it your aunt is here on the advice of a psychic, but no one else is?”

“My mother never puts all her resources into one location. In this case, though, I’ll wager Waida acted as an independent. She is a matriarch in her own right, even if her Sept consists only of her husband and her one son.”

“But how did she get here? From the sounds of it, she got here before us, but we were on the only flight.”

“As if she’d trust a commercial airline. She flew herself.”

“She flew as a dragon?” He made sure to hush the words in case the driver listened. The partition separated him from the front, but his paranoia was on full alert. “Isn’t that like sacrosanct?”

“She flew as in a twin-engine turboprop. She dislikes traveling any distance by car and says if she can’t use her own wings then she’ll control the ones she does use.”

“Your family is very determined.”

“As are you. We will make gloriously stubborn children.”

He sighed. “You don’t give up, do you?”

“Nope. Neither should you because I am the ultimate prize.”

More like an impossible dream, but he clamped that thought down tightly, lest she slap him.

The limo headed toward their destination, or so he assumed, and he didn’t know what to think. Having Aimi by his side proved distracting, but even worse, he couldn’t hide the fact that he headed into enemy territory. More than ever he questioned the wisdom of waltzing in.

The lights of the city were left behind as they drove into suburbia. Wide streets, towering trees, actual sidewalks, and lawns lit with strategic emphasis to showcase trees and shrubbery, manicured to within an inch of its verdant green life.

They slowed down at a gate, the wide archway spanning the lanes entering and exiting. There was a very ornate welcoming sign and even a guardhouse where someone with a tablet briefly spoke to the driver before letting them enter. It appeared they entered a gated community for the wealthy, a place where the rich went to live and remain separated from the masses.

This was where Parker lived? It seemed too lavish even for his uncle. “Are we going to the right place?” he asked.

“It’s what the invitation said.”

The location might be right. However, it seemed wrong because, when Brand thought of a birthday party, what came to mind were the celebrations of his youth. The backyard decked in Christmas lights strung among the trees, the multi-colored bulbs seeming suspended in midair once darkness fell. The several picnic tables—the wood spongy with age and mildewed by time—covered by plastic covers with balloons and Happy Birthday emblazoned upon it. For added decoration, a few colored balloons on strings taped to the house and branches. The simple décor went well with the menu of barbecued burgers, hot dogs, and macaroni salad followed by dessert; a slab cake his ma made from scratch, smeared in icing with candles of varying heights staggered all over it. In their house, even little things like candle stubs were reused to save money.

The tight budget also meant it was only close family and the very best of friends invited because, as his mother often said, “We aren’t feeding the whole damned neighborhood.” It might have sounded harsh and uncaring, but that was the reality of living on a budget. Despite the restrictions, no Mercer ever felt forgotten, even if some of the presents arrived still in a plastic bag, with tags, and possibly five-fingered instead of bought.

But it was the thought that counted.

So was it any wonder when he heard the celebration was for his sister’s birthday that Brand kind of expected something intimate and familiar? The hoity-toity houses in the area with their tall gates and stone-walled fences said otherwise.

I should have guessed by the tuxedo and limo. The suit Aimi had made him wear was anything but simple, but he assumed she’d ordered them because that was what rich girls did.

He tugged at the collar of the button-down shirt. “Damned thing is choking me.”

“Don’t play with it. It’s perfect.”

No, she was perfect in the shimmering gown of mauve, threaded with silver. Aimi’s hair fell in a silky curtain and tickled the top of her ass.

My ass. Funny how he’d fallen into her habit of thinking of her as his.

How on earth was he going to walk away from her when this surely failed mission was done?

“Why the grim face? Tonight we get your sister back.”

“Or everything goes to hell.”

“If Parker touches a hair on my head, my mother will have his balls for breakfast, with a dash of salt and covered in a Béarnaise sauce.”

“That’s if there’s anything left after I’m done with him.” The very idea of Aimi getting hurt chilled the blood in his veins, but it didn’t bother him. More and more he noticed the line between him and his other self fading. What am I saying? I don’t even think there’s a separation anymore. His thoughts, emotions, everything seemed to come from him, with a new twist.

“You’d kill someone for me?” she asked.

“In a heartbeat.”

“You say the sweetest things.”

Ignoring the passing mansions, he turned to her. “Can I ask you something? If I’m not a gold dragon, hell, if it turns out you’re wrong and I’m not dragon at all, would you still want me?”

“You forget, I claimed you even before we knew you might be gold.”

“Because you thought I was a dragon. What if I’m not?”

She leaned forward, the scent of her an intoxicating perfume that wrapped around his senses. “My mother might disown me, but I don’t really care what you are. Gator, dragon, or just a man. I think it’s past time we paired with who we’re meant to be with and not just because our genes are a perfect match.”

“You think we’re a perfect match?” The very idea stretched credulity.

“Don’t you?”

He wanted to say, “No, hell no,” but he couldn’t because, damn it all, he wanted to be her perfect mate. Wanted her grace to temper his rough edges, wanted his strength to be her shield, wanted her soft words to soothe the beast inside.

Come here.

He didn’t say the words aloud, but she heard him and didn’t move. “Not now. Later.”

“Fuck that.” Who knew if there would be a later? He reached over and pulled her onto his lap.

A shocked gasp parted her lips, and she only put up a small fight. “Brand, we shouldn’t, my makeup.”

He didn’t care about her makeup. She looked just as good, and he personally thought better, without it. Besides, he wanted to taste those perfect pink lips. “It’s not cherry flavored,” he murmured as he slanted his mouth over hers, noting the bland taste.

“I’ll make sure to buy some for you then for next time.”

Because there would be a next time. Many of them. He grabbed her hair in his fist, luxuriating in the silken feel of it. She moaned against his mouth, and she opened the link between them enough that he could feel her excitement at his slightly rough handling of her. His moonbeam might appear prim and dainty on the outside, but inside, she was a wild thing who liked to get dirty.

With me. And only me.

The slit in the skirt of her dress meant his hand could move to caress the flesh of her thigh then upward until he encountered the lacy barrier of her panties.

Rip.

“Brand!”

“You don’t need these.”

“I can’t go in public not wearing underpants. It’s not done.” She huffed it, and yet he could sense the thread of excitement at the thought.

“I don’t want anything in my way when I take you later.” Because he was going to take a page out of her book and assume they would prevail. His luck was changing. He was no longer a victim. The time had come for him to be the hero.

And heroes always got the girl.

A shiver went through her. “You are a tease.”

“Why, because I like to do this?” He fingered her, feeling the honey on his finger and wishing it were his tongue.

“Because I know we don’t have time to do this right now.”

“You’re right. We don’t.” But he wanted to. He withdrew his hand and licked the finger. As if he’d let that ambrosia go to waste.

She growled. “I swear, if you keep teasing, I might just claim you in front of everyone and to hell with the media.” Her violet eyes slitted and flashed with fire, a sign he’d come to recognize that meant strong emotions rode her.

“I’m almost to the point I might just let you do that, moonbeam.” Because she wasn’t the only one tired of this game they played.

“Do you like me, Brand?” she asked with the most serious mien.

“More than I should, moonbeam.”

The limo slowed as they turned, and Aimi slid off his lap, grumbling about needing to “Fix my lipstick and hair.” But the bond connecting them let him know the grumbling was just a façade; inside, she practically burst with happiness.

I did that. He’d made her happy. Brandon wasn’t sure if he’d ever done that before for someone other than his mother, but he knew he sure as heck liked it. After he saved his sister, maybe he should rethink his decision to leave.

He peeked out the window as Aimi pouted her lips to reapply her gloss. They were passing a long, fenced stretch of land, each of the houses in this area occupying large plots of property. Anxiety gripped him. He tugged at the damned choking collar. “My sister won’t recognize me in this monkey suit.”

“Stop complaining. We can’t just show up in street clothes. They’ll never even let us past the gate.”

“Gates and guards and fences. What is this, Fort Knox?”

“More like the wolf’s den.”

And she meant that quite literally. It had taken some digging, but according to Aimi, her sister Adi had discovered that Parker owned the property they were going to tonight. Hidden beneath layers of shell companies, they’d found three locations directly linked to Parker. Tonight, they would visit the West Coast mansion, but his uncle also owned two other properties. One a simple townhouse on the East Coast in New York itself, and the other, down in Texas, was a several-hundred-hectare estate that not only boasted a house that could have fit a decent chunk of the Mercer family but also a series of outbuildings because the property doubled as a ranch.

“My Uncle Parker is a farmer?” That didn’t seem right.

“On paper he is. Although, he doesn’t seem to sell much cattle. This is his entertaining house we are going to tonight. The one he’s been using to kiss up to government officials.”

“And you’re sure Sue-Ellen is going to be there?”

“Where else would the birthday girl be for her party?”

It occurred to him in that moment that, while he’d done lots of bitching and moaning—in a manly fashion, of course—about everything that’d happened, he’d yet to do one really important thing. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For doing all this. For finding out where my sister is.”

“I can’t take all the credit. My sister helped a little.” At his arched brow, she laughed. “Okay, a lot. But you shouldn’t thank me for that. What your uncle did to your sister is wrong, and now we’re going to make it right.”

“I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but thank you.”

“Don’t thank me.” She leaned forward and touched his knee, and said softly, “From here on out, even if you don’t believe it yet, we are one. What affects you, affects me. Those you care about are also now under my charge, my protection.”

That kind of partnership, the very idea of it, damn near took his breath away. Looking at her, her platinum perfection with her slender elegance contrasted with his darker appearance, and even darker, colder blood. Over and over he kept seeing reasons why she deserved better than him. A mere lowly Mercer thinking he could be with this gorgeous beauty? Except she looked just right by his side, her silvery hair a complement to his dark, her slim and graceful beauty emphasizing his bulk.

And he was going to bring her into possible danger?

Not for the first time, he tried to talk her out of it. “I don’t think—” She wasn’t interested in his arguments, so she muffled his protest with a kiss. Which made him wonder if he’d protested on purpose.

Duh. Him or his other half talking? He couldn’t tell anymore.

The limo pulled to a stop, and he peered out at the crazy-big mansion with its stone columns and massive banks of windows. Lights streamed from all of them, and he could almost hear his mother yell, “Turn off the damned lights. You’re just burning money.”

The driver opened the door for them and stood to the side. It was then that Brandon noticed that, while the face wasn’t familiar, edges of silver hair peeked from the cap. More reinforcements.

He slid out of the car and then held out his hand as he’d seen the actors do when they tread the red carpet—and he and his buddies mocked them over a few beers. They only watched it to see the hot actresses in their revealing dresses.

Aimi stepped out, a ray of moonlight that stole all argument and breath from him.

“Ready?” she asked, linking her hand through his arm and resting it on his bicep.

“No.”

The tinkle of her laughter washed over him, soothing some of his nerves. “Let us go fetch your sister, that we might make better use of that hotel room tonight.”

“That confident, are you?”

“Losing is never an option.”

That had never been truer than tonight. Still, though, he couldn’t help but wonder what he’d gotten himself into, given that he felt completely out of his element. Sure, he wore the damned suit, with its choking tie, and looked the part, but he was convinced everyone around him could see he was swamp-born.

It’s all about attitude, at least according to the dragon ladies. So he faked it. He held his head high, his shoulders back, put on a scowl for anyone who dared look at him—and a deadly promising glare for anyone who stared at his moonbeam.

Within, his cold half didn’t say a word, maybe because it no longer had to. Was Aimi right? Had he and his beast somehow, in all the turmoil, become one entity?

Tonight wasn’t the night to ponder it. He had to concentrate on his mission: saving Sue-Ellen and getting both her and Aimi back out, alive. He wouldn’t make the same promise for his uncle. As far as he was concerned, the world would be a better place without Theo.

The good thing about attending a public event, as Aimi had explained before their first aborted flight, was the fact that Parker couldn’t try anything overt. There would be people in attendance, humans and dignitaries, as well as some media. There would be cameras everywhere, the eyes of the world on them as Parker pretended for the masses that shifters were normal, that he was normal. If by normal, psychopaths counted.

As their limo pulled away, he glanced back and noted a line of cars, luxury ones along with more limos, crawled up the drive, disgorging passengers at the tiered front stoop.

He tugged at his collar again, noting all the guys wore suits while the ladies glittered and wowed with their rainbow-colored gowns and teetering heels.

“Remember, no punching your uncle,” she admonished just before they reached the front door and the people checking the guests against lists on their handheld tablets.

But he deserves it. A thought pushed instead of spoken aloud where security could hear him and escort him out. Uncle Theo had earned more than a good fist to the face. Every breath the man took was a waste, and Brandon intended to be the one to put a stop to it.

The guy in the dark suit manning the entrance tapped his screen. “Welcome, Ms. Silvergrace. Might I inquire as to whom your guest is?”

Brandon expected many things but not her, “This is Brandon Mercer, Mr. Parker’s missing nephew and the birthday girl’s brother. But I do hope you’ll keep it a surprise.”

Highly unlikely, and he had to wonder why she’d announced it as they were waved into the house. He immediately pulled her aside to hiss, “Are you out of your fucking mind? Are you trying to fail this endeavor before we begin?”

“On the contrary, we’ve just made it harder for Parker to screw with us. We’ve just publicly announced who we are, thus making it harder for you to just disappear, or hadn’t you noticed the people behind us eavesdropping?”

A glance behind showed him a couple whispering excitedly.

“So everyone knows we’re here. Great. We’ve just given my uncle warning that he needs to hide my sister again.”

“Have some faith, dear fiancé. Your uncle is much too full of himself to let something like your reappearance make him do something the media might notice, such as hide the birthday girl.”

“I hope you’re right,” he muttered as she led him farther into the mansion. Not so long ago, he might have been more impressed by the polished tile floors and the detailed plaster moldings. However, he’d spent a bit of time in the Silvergrace abode, and had to say he thought their taste much classier and definitely less gaudy.

Disdain curled Aimi’s lip. “Good grief, did he seriously mix nineteenth-century Impressionism with postmodern art?” Aimi uttered a noise of polite disgust. “Wannabe.”

“They both look shitty to me. I don’t see why anyone would pay money for any of them.” He swept a hand to encompass the wall of art with its scribbled and abstract offerings.

“Mixing is one thing. However, that doesn’t mean the art itself is bad. Don’t you see the talent? Look closer. Look again with the eyes of one who covets treasure,” she added.

What did she mean? It all looked like paint smears to him, except he noticed, when he did pay more attention, that the brush strokes on the paintings that at first had seemed choppy and uneven actually portrayed a snapshot scene; whereas the other style, using the same kind of bold strokes, was of nothing.

But, even noting those differences, he could easily say, “Still don’t see the appeal of either.”

“I’ll have to show you the stuff I’ve got hidden in my hoard. I promise you’ll see the value.”

Was Aimi showing off her treasures the equivalent of giving him a key? Where was a meddling Silvergrace when he had a question?

Step by step, he flowed deeper into the place and the further he went, the more the back of his neck prickled. Danger. But where?

Looking around, he noted everyone in their tuxedos and lavish gowns. Some paid attention to him and Aimi, mostly Aimi, but that seemed normal given her extreme beauty. More glances showed a lot of security—a faint sniff revealed them as shifter security, along with some males who didn’t smell at all. Not human or shifter. It reminded him of the plane.

“Are those more of those wyvern dudes?” he murmured to her under the guise of drawing her close to let a server with drinks pass by.

“Yes, they are, and they are making no attempt to hide their presence. Mother won’t like that.”

“Why? Does this mean Parker was working with the ones that attacked the plane and then our car?”

“Possibly. Although I find it hard to believe any of the Septs would align with him. But then again, your uncle has done many things of late considered impossible.”

“Speaking of my uncle, there he is.” Standing across the room from them, looking as polished as ever for a mangy wolf, stood his uncle, Theo. He wore a black tuxedo like everyone else but had paired it with a light blue shirt that matched the blue of his wife’s gown. Brandon clenched his fists at his side, wanting so badly to wipe that smug smile off the bastard’s face, but he couldn’t. He had to behave because of who stood by Parker’s side, his sister Sue-Ellen dressed in a buttercup-yellow gown. For a moment, he just stared. How could he not? His sister shone, her smile bright as she shook hands with well-wishers, pasting on a fake smile for the masses.

Not for much longer. Time to end her nightmare.

“That’s my sister. I am going to talk to her.”

“Wait until I distract your uncle and then snag her.”

He probably didn’t want to know but… “How are you going to distract him?”

“You’ll see.” Aimi gave him a smile that might have bordered on feral. It served only to make her more beautiful—but don’t forget she is deadly.

Off she swished, her slender hips undulating and causing the violet sheen of her gown to shimmer. She snared a fluted glass of wine, and he heard her exclaim, “You call this swill champagne? I don’t even feed this to my staff at Christmas.”

The fine art of snobbery in action. As Aimi caused a titter and commotion with her entitled rich-girl airs, Brandon made his way around the outer edge of the room, watching his uncle and sister. When Parker aimed himself in Aimi’s direction, Brandon made his move, sidling through the remaining crowd until he stood behind his sister, the scent of her true essence masked with some kind of flowery fragrance.

He spun her around and grabbed her in a hug. “I’m so glad to see you.”

“Release me at once,” she screeched. “Security.”

“Sue-Ellen, it’s me,” he exclaimed, putting her down. “The real me. I’m not a monster anymore.” And, no, he didn’t care who heard him. Because of Parker, everyone knew Brandon was a shifter. They just didn’t know about the extras done to him.

His excitement at finding his sister didn’t seem returned, given Sue-Ellen’s glare.

“What are you doing here?”

“Rescuing you, at last.”

Her brow creased. “Rescuing me from what? I don’t need anyone to save me, and you’ll ruin everything if you don’t leave.”

“Leave? Are you on drugs? I’ve been trying to get to you for months, ever since the Bittech blowup. I’m sorry it took so long, but Parker’s been hard to track down. But now that I’m here, you can leave. He won’t dare stop us with all these people watching.” In that, he hoped Aimi was right. He grabbed his sister’s hand and would have pulled her, but she yanked free.

“What are you doing?” his sister asked.

“Leaving and you’re coming with me.”

“Why?”

“Because Uncle Theo is a kidnapping psycho. But you don’t have to worry anymore. Once we get out of here, I’ll make sure he never finds you again.” He didn’t quite know yet how he’d manage it, but surely his mother and brothers could help him hide her.

“There seems to be a misunderstanding. I don’t want to leave.”

He blinked as he digested her words. “I don’t understand.”

“What’s there not to understand? I don’t want to go with you.”

“But why? Surely you can’t want to stay? Uncle Theo is evil.”

“According to you. I happen to think differently.”

“He’s brainwashed you.”

“Do you think I’m that stupid? Use your head for something other than a hat rack,” his sister snapped. “Do you really think he could have kept me all this time if I didn’t want to be kept? Do you really think me so helpless?”

“Then why didn’t you escape?”

“Because I wanted to stay.” Her chin tilted. “Uncle Theo took me from the bayou, from that pigsty we called a home. He bought me nice clothes. Made sure I got a proper education.”

“He experimented on me and the others. Kept you hostage. He told the world our secret.”

A sneer pulled his sister’s lips. “A secret that was leaking all over the place anyhow, or are you so out of touch with the modern world that you never watched any of the YouTube videos? He just confirmed what many in the world already knew.”

“And what about what he did to me? To the others?”

“He made some mistakes, but what he was doing, and still continues to do with the Bittech research, is for the greater good. He wants to make shifters great.”

“He made me into a monster,” he growled. “He took away my freedom and made me do things I would have never done.”

“He took a chance and, as many have on the path to greatness, suffered setbacks.”

Hearing his sister defend the man he’d hated for so long was worse than any bullet or slap. The fact that she justified the things done to Brandon hurt, but what hurt worse was the realization that he couldn’t change Sue-Ellen’s mind. She truly believed Theo had committed no crimes. His own sister didn’t care what happened to him.

I’m such a fucking idiot. Worse than an idiot. He felt betrayed.

“I hope to God you remember this conversation when he turns on you one day,” was his bitter reply as he spun away from his sister.

“Where are you going?” his sister asked. “I know he’ll want to talk to you. He’s been looking for you.”

“Tell him to go to Hell.”

He was done here. I should have never come. Time to find Aimi and go.