The two families had a long-standing feud that spanned decades, if not centuries. I knew that. But I’d expected better behavior than this.
Or maybe I was being naïve.
“I was just showing her my knife,” Cassian said, his face now the picture of pure innocence.
I wanted to slap that expression right off his face. Preferably with a chair.
Lucien glowered at Cassian, his rage barely held in check. He took a single step forward. Cassian matched it, as casual as ever, fingers flexing around his blade’s hilt.
“You sure you want to do this, St. Germain?” Cassian taunted in a tone that suggested he very much hoped the answer was yes. “I’d hate to ruin that fancy coat of yours.”
Lucien didn’t answer. He just kept moving forward in that deliberate manner of his, with a kind of quiet that suggested he wasn’t just considering violence but planning for it.
Cassian, by contrast, looked delighted. This was clearly foreplay to him. A little family rivalry to explore. And possibly a little…who’s got the bigger, ahem, alpha energy.
It wasn’t a game to Lucien, though. He looked like he wanted to skin each of the brothers alive and use their pelts to reupholster his lounge.
I couldn’t allow that. For one, no way Lucien could take on all three brothers at once. For another, Thorne would never speak to me again if Lucien so much as nicked one of them. Nor would the two families ever overcome this ridiculous feud of theirs if one of them died.
Perhaps it was time for someone to intervene before this turned into a full-blown duel to defend one’s honor.
And by someone, I—of course—meant me.
After all, I had no skin in this game.
Cassian moved first. It was little more than a shift of weight, but just enough to tip the scale.
Lucien surged forward in response, and for one blood-chilling moment, I believed we were about to witness this showdown happen before I could stop it.
I sucked in a breath, about to intervene, when Thorne threw herself between them, hands outstretched, and shrieked, “Absolutely not!”
Cassian halted at the sound of his sister’s piercing voice, blade frozen mid-arc. Lucien, however, didn’t stop. Not until I moved.
I slipped in front of Thorne and pressed both hands against his chest. He came to a stop the second I touched him.
“No, Lucien,” I said quietly, firmly.
His gaze dropped to mine. They burned with heat and rage. But he didn’t push me away. Nor did he speak. Instead, he lifted his gaze—over Thorne’s and my heads—to glare at Cassian.
“Are you both out of your frigging minds?” Thorne demanded, hands planted on her hips like she was reprimanding two toddlers.
“He was threatening her,” Lucien growled. Was it me, or did that sound incredibly close to “he started it?”
“I was demonstrating,” Cassian corrected. “Showing her that we don’t go anywhere unarmed. You were the one that came charging in like some vigilante.”
“You had a blade near her throat,” Lucien growled, taking a half-step forward before I pressed firmer against him. He stopped.
“And you taunted him,” I added smoothly, glancing back at Cassian.
Cassian’s sigh was theatrical. Thorne rolled her eyes. The brothers behind us chuckled like this was any old Tuesday.
“Listen,” I continued, hoping to dial the situation down to about a three. Considering their history together, that seemed more plausible than getting them down to a zero. Managing expectations and all that. “Why don’t we all take a breath, sheath the phallic weaponry, and perhaps have a drink?”
Ricky barked a laugh. “A drink? With a St. Germain? Are we under a compulsion spell?”
“I’d rather swallow holy water,” Felix muttered.
Thorne whirled on them. “You two can either sit your overgrown asses down and act like civilized wolves, or I will call Mom and tell her what you did to her damn garden gnomes.”
