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This time, my twin has no sarcasm or growled advice. “I won’t ask if she was unattractive. No woman has ever been that ugly, especially if she was willing.”
“She was perfectly acceptable and amenable. But one kiss and…” I shudder.
Raiden pauses. “So you’re going to abandon me to troll our usual haunts alone? Though we’ve shared the same curse and taken the same path for decades?”
I tense. This question will probably drive a permanent wedge between us. “I’m sorry.”
With a primal scream, Raiden whirls and punches the wall. “You’d rather sink into your fucking fairy tale where love and happily-ever-after can happen for a Wolvsey? What you want is impossible.”
Perhaps, but everything inside me aches to make Kari my mate, to see her grow round with my children, to love her for the next nine hundred years.
None of that will ever come to pass.
“If it makes you happier, knowing that I’ve lost Kari and will likely lose you as well is killing me.”
Raiden stares at me as if I’m a complete stranger. “Did you ever think that, perhaps, I have feelings for someone, too?”
I blink at my twin, stunned. “You never shag anyone more than once.”
He glances away with a guilty flush. “Tabitha carries my child now. It takes every bit of my will to stay away from her, to ensure her safety. It’s best for her and the baby.”
But his face tells me he’s in love with her. How did I miss that?
I know my brother can only stand to share a bed with random women while he has another in his heart because he closes his eyes and pretends. I used to do it all the time.
That’s impossible now.
I rake a hand through my hair, feeling defeated. I’ve failed everyone—my brother, my ancestors, my beloved, even myself. What the fuck do I do?
With a sigh and a shake of his head, Raiden turns away. “Let me know when you’ve come to your senses. Otherwise, stay the fuck away.”
Chapter Eight
At the Witch’s Brew, I sit in a shadowy corner, watching Kari’s every move. I’ve barely left her sight in days.
The pub is busy for a Thursday night. Humans mingle with magickind, never knowing they’re flirting with someone not quite their own species. Music blares, drinks flow, and people laugh.
And I’ve never been more miserable.
Kari refuses to speak to me. The first night I occupied this spot, she never once acknowledged me. By the following evening, she hired a waiter—a large one—with a shaved head, sporting a skull-and-crossbones tattoo on one forearm, and a fire-breathing dragon on the other. Human, so not much of a threat to me, but I hear her message loud and clear.
Fuck off.
Nursing a scotch, I watch the ebb and flow of the patrons for the twelfth straight night. Kari may never speak to me again, but I’ll do whatever I must to ensure she stays safe, regardless of my waning energy. The one bright spot? The rest of the Doomsday Brethren have been too busy training to put in an appearance. Small favor, that. But one keeping her safer.
Not for the first time, I suspect Kari would be better protected if I learned to fight evil beside them, rather than merely waiting for it to strike. Just like I finally realize, now that I’m no longer banging a different female every night, that I’ve given too little thought to the future. What the hell am I going to do?
I have no answers, but regardless of what Kari says or believes, in my heart, she’s my mate.
Wind gusts through the pub as the door opens. Shock Denzell strolls in, his gaze hidden behind dark sunglasses as he scans the room. Damn, I really hoped the prick would steer clear.
I leap from my stool and position myself between him and Kari. “Get out.”
Shock scowls at me as if I’m a gnat. “Who the fuck are you? Not the pub’s owner.”
“Her mate. I don’t need you bringing more trouble.”
Shock eyes my magical signature with disdain. “Not her mate.”
