Faith.

Brundar had lost his so long ago, he couldn’t remember ever believing that there was any good in people.

Betrayal by someone you considered a brother, someone you loved and trusted with not only your heart but your very life, would do that to a guy.

He’d learned his lesson the hard way.

He trusted no one, depended on no one, except himself and his sword arm and his aim.

Deadly.

It was more than a description, it was his essence.

He was the Grim Reaper.

Or at least he had been until Calypso had turned his world upside down. The sense of vertigo was disturbing, destructive, dangerous to a warrior who depended on a quiet mind to maintain the focus crucial to his survival.

The only antidote was distance.

Not his resolve because his was worth shit, and not his logical mind because it barely functioned in Calypso’s presence.

The further away from her he got, the more time that passed since he’d been with her, the clearer his thoughts became.

One would think that he would utilize the one remedy available to him and stay the hell away from her. But no, apparently he was a glutton for the fucking vertigo because time and again he returned for more.

If Brundar had had any faith left in him, he would have prayed to the Fates for guidance. But the bitches were a myth, existing only in the minds of fools. As to those made of flesh and blood, he had no friends, and the only one even remotely close to him was his brother, who was the equivalent of an old yenta and the last person Brundar wanted to confide in or ask for help. Anandur would do anything for him, he never doubted it, but he would exact a payment in the form of information to feed his insatiable hunger for fresh gossip he could spread around.

With a sigh, Brundar filled the carafe with water from the filter and poured it into the coffeemaker.

“What’s that grim face for?” Anandur asked as he entered the kitchen.

Brundar ignored him.

But naturally, Anandur wouldn’t let it go. “You seem gloomier than usual. What’s the matter, no food?” He pulled the fridge door open. “Do not despair, bro. We have leftover Italian.” He took out the container.

Brundar regarded his brother with a grimace. “Only you can eat pasta for breakfast.”

“You’re welcome to cook. I would like an omelet with a side of hash and four pieces of toast,” Anandur teased. “But since you won’t…” he shrugged. Forking a swirl of cold macaroni straight from the container, he stuffed it into his mouth.

The guy could eat anything, including a week-old moldy pizza and food leftovers on other people’s plates.

Charming and easygoing, Anandur had the capacity to feel for his partners and yet never get attached or possessive. No woman ever harbored ill feelings toward him, and not because he made sure they didn’t remember him. The guy’s thrall was so pathetically weak, he could barely erase the memory of his bite.

How the hell did he manage to keep his heart open while protecting it from emotional attachment?

“Let me ask you something?” Brundar poured himself coffee.

“Ask,” Anandur said with a mouthful of pasta.

“You were fond of that Russian you pumped for information, right?”

Out of all the Guardians, Anandur was the only one who would take on a mission like that. He had no qualms about pretending to be a lowly deck boy or seducing one of Alex’s all-female Russian yacht crew.

Acting the bum was one thing. Anandur probably had fun with that. But agreeing to whore himself out was another.

Thankfully, Kian had never asked Brundar to do anything even remotely of that nature. He was a lousy actor, and using sex as a tool was abhorrent to him. Give him a weapon, point out an enemy to kill, and he’d deal with it.

Even if he hadn’t had issues with the morality of such underhanded acts, he was too rigid for subterfuge.

“Yeah, she was a fine piece of ass. Not the sharpest brain, but the shapeliest legs. Beautiful and strong.” Anandur flexed his biceps. “I mean muscle strong. When she wrapped those around me and squeezed, believe me, I felt it.” Anandur shifted himself in his pants.

Evidently, he remembered Lana quite fondly.

“But even though you liked her and spent a few weeks with her, you had no problem saying goodbye.”

Anandur grabbed a mug and filled it from the carafe. “Not entirely true. I was worried about how she would take it. But Lana is a tough cookie and life-smart. She said she didn’t feel it either. It wasn’t love. We parted as good friends.” He took a sip of coffee.

“What would you have done if she’d clung to you?”

“Then it would have been a bitch. I don’t like hurting people. Not unless they earned it, that is. Alex, for example, I had no problem hurting. The scumbag got off easy with entombment. I would have flayed his skin off first.”

“I would have helped.”

They nodded to each other in agreement.

It warmed Brundar’s cold heart that his brother wasn’t all that different from him. On the outside, the guy might have appeared the charming and good-natured one; on the inside, though, he was just as bloodthirsty and cruel as Brundar.

But unlike those they hunted, he and his brother reserved their wrath for those who’d earned it. Alex and other scum like him who kidnapped people and sold them into slavery didn’t deserve mercy. They deserved eternal damnation in the deepest, most fiery pits of hell, in the company of other soulless creatures who preyed on the weak.

Anandur put the mug on the counter and lifted the box of leftovers, taking another forkful. “Why all the questions? Do you need advice on how to dump someone?”

“No.”

Anandur’s smile turned into a frown. “When you actually want to talk, come find me.” He stood up and threw the empty container in the trash.

If Brundar wanted advice, he needed to keep talking. “Did you ever feel like you wanted to keep one of the human women you hooked up with?”

Anandur shook his head. “No. Do you want to keep yours?”

Brundar should have known better than to turn to his brother. He needed answers, not more questions. Anandur was as blunt as ever, but not helpful in the least.

“As what? A pet? Keep her locked up until she gets old and dies?”

With a sigh, Anandur patted his shoulder. “It’s tough to have feelings for a human. I can’t believe I’m saying that to you, not when I’ve been waiting for centuries to hear your heart beating again, but you need to get rid of the girl sooner rather than later. It’s a shame because I’m glad to see you finally thawing, but the longer you wait, the harder it’s going to be. I don’t want to see you break.”

Regrettably, Anandur had no magical solution. His words echoed Brundar’s to the letter.

“Can I trust you not to breathe a word of this to anyone?”

“All you have to do is ask, and it’s done. Did you ever know me to reveal a secret I was asked to keep?”

Brundar thought back to Anandur’s many years of gossiping, and the truth was that he’d never betrayed the confidence of anyone who’d asked him to keep a secret.

He dipped his head in a slight bow. “My apologies for insinuating a flaw of character. The insult was unwarranted.”

Anandur rolled his eyes. “Sheesh, so formal. Apology accepted.” He clapped Brundar on the shoulder. “Good luck with your lady friend. Whatever you decide to do, you can count on me to back you up.”

“I know.”

“Good. Sometimes I’m not sure you remember that.”