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There had been no time for discussion and significant strategy planning. Winter was instructed to simply follow Aiden’s lead and watch his back. That Winter could do easily enough. He certainly wasn’t prone to outbursts and bouts of temper like Rafe. Even Marcus was becoming a bit touchy, but his older brother was also extremely protective of Ethan. That just made him a little growly.
To his own frustration, Winter’s mind kept slipping back to worry over Fox. He’d hated leaving him at the loft alone, but the witch had been confident he wouldn’t be in any danger, thanks to Winter’s top-notch security system and the simple fact that no one knew where Winter lived. Unfortunately, he’d not gotten the chance to show Fox where the secret escape route was if he needed to leave the loft quickly.
But Fox would be fine. This meeting would take only an hour at most, and then he could return home. Maybe he could pick up Fox and they’d go to Marcus’s house. He needed to have a long discussion with his family about his own gift as well as inform them that Fox was now a permanent part of his life.
“You looked worried,” Aiden said in a low voice, jerking Winter from his thoughts. “Has someone whispered bad news into your ear?”
Winter blinked at him in wonder. It hadn’t even occurred to him to check with the ghosts. Spending all his time with Fox recently had accustomed him to not dealing with the ghosts, but now miles separated them. The only thing holding them back was the ring Zelda had given him holding Fox’s blood.
“No, I…I was just lost in thought. I’ll check now,” he murmured.
He grabbed the ring with his right hand but hesitated. He didn’t want to take it off. Not so much because he didn’t want to deal with the ghosts, but he simply didn’t want to lose that connection to Fox. Wearing the ring meant his witch was always with him. Biting the inside of his mouth, he slid it off and carefully placed it into the front pocket of his jeans. Just a quick look and he could put the ring on again.
“That’s new,” Aiden pointed out with a look that clearly said he was eager to hear all the details.
“A very good development, but it will have to wait until after this meeting,” Winter said.
“I hope it’s the first of many.”
Winter smiled at his father before directing his gaze around the rest of the open art gallery. The walls were pristine white while the floor changed from marble to dark hardwood in a variety of places depending on the art displayed. Rafe had bitched about The Gallery on more than one occasion, calling the art boring and uninspired. But his brother preferred things to be incendiary and controversial.
With the ring off, the ghosts within The Gallery slowly came into view. There weren’t many. Most of the dead seemed to linger close to places that were either important to them or the place where they died. It was unlikely that the art gallery was that to anyone. It was simply a meeting place for vampires, but there were a few who floated through. None appeared to take notice of Winter or Aiden as they crossed the main floor, heading toward the back private galleries. There were no doors within the gallery, but the arrangement of walls could at least create the illusion of privacy.
“It’s quiet,” Winter murmured.
“Not surprised, but it doesn’t hurt to check.” Aiden flashed him a reassuring smile, but there were some lines of tension around his eyes that he couldn’t quite shed. His father was a master at appearing relaxed and in control no matter the situation. Yet, over the years, Winter had gotten quite good at reading him. Aiden was worried even if he wouldn’t admit to it.
“Have you spoken to Zelda?”
Aiden huffed a laugh. “Now that you’ve spoken to her and straightened things out, I’m the one avoiding her. I feel she’s got another tirade to dump on my head, and I’m not in the mood to hear it just yet.” He paused and sighed. “But she is probably right.”
“I’m getting the impression she usually is.”
“Hush. We can’t ever let her hear that. It only encourages her.”
Winter chuckled and he could feel a few eyes dart over to him. This was a serious place for serious business. Vampires didn’t laugh in The Gallery. Winter was suddenly filled with the urge to flip them all off while laughing maniacally. Rafe was a bad influence. But then, Winter had a feeling he had more in common with his troublemaker brother than he cared to admit. He’d always tried to model himself after Marcus, admiring his oldest brother’s calm, collected manner.
He had to admit it. The same mischief ran in his veins, just like Rafe’s. Probably why they were always digging and sniping at each other. Too similar.
