Kayden glances down lazily, then shrugs. "Huh. Guess it is."
"Did you kill someone?" Astrid demands, already sounding tired of him.
"Hard to say." He grabs a glass and pours himself a drink with theatrical flair. "Could've been a raccoon. Or something bigger. Who really knows?"
And then he looks directly at me. The heat in his gaze lands like a punch.
Astrid turns toward Asher. "Really?"
Asher's jaw clenches. "Kayden," he says, his voice sharp, warning.
Kayden lifts both hands. "What? Am I ruining your prayer group? Sorry, I forgot to bring the candles."
"Just get your drink and sit down," Asher says coldly. "Or leave. We're here to help Sage."
Kayden zips his lips in mock solemnity and tiptoes exaggeratedly toward an empty armchair, throwing himself into it like a lounging cat with blood on its claws.
"You know," Donna says gently, her voice soothing, "you really should give your brother's program a shot. It rebalances you. Centers you. Helps with… the urges that can get a little overwhelming."
Kayden lifts his brows, mock sincerity dripping from every syllable. "Oh, now that you say that, of course. I should totallygive it a whirl. Light some incense, align my chakras, and suck all the fun out of my immortal existence."
Donna winces. "It's not about sucking the fun out, it's about—"
"Still wouldn't fix the fact that he's a giant pain in the ass," Astrid mutters, cracking open another beer and glaring like she's considering using the bottle as a weapon.
Kayden salutes her with his drink. "Aw, youdothink about me in your spare time, valkyrie."
The tension hums louder. He's getting under their skin. Maybe that's the point.
I glance around the room again, more deliberately this time. Trying to understand what Asher has built, and how fragile or fierce the foundation really is.
Astrid, the valkyrie, is all sharp steel and cold judgment. She doesn't bother with masks. She hates Kayden, that much is clear. But I wonder what made her respect Asher enough to stay.
Donna's as advertised—sunshine in combat boots. A cinnamon roll with fangs. She's adapting to vampirehood with a kind of radiant defiance, but I can't help but wonder who turned the mayor's daughter? And what did it cost her?
Tomas stands near Asher like a soldier in a quiet formation, watchful and patient. Not relaxed. I don't know his full story yet.
Jace hasn't said a word since he walked in. He won't look at me, but I don't know if it's residual wallet resentment or something deeper. He wears the sharp lines of the city like armor, and yet he's here. In this tucked-away town that clearly wasn't his first choice.
Then there's dreamy-eyed Eira, the most unreadable of them all. I felt it when she touched me—she knows what I am. She hasn't outed me yet, which says something. Though, I don't know what.
"Asher," I murmur quietly.
His voice cuts clean across the room. "Let's get back to the task at hand."
No shouting, but his tone slices through the chatter effectively. Kayden stops baiting. Even Astrid quiets.
"The floor is yours, Sage."
I take a slow breath. My heart's not racing, but it's definitely aware.
"My name is Sage Quinn," I begin, stepping forward. "And I'm a nymph."
It feels like standing naked in a spotlight. Like I'm holding up a sign that sayshunt me.
"Sorry if that sounded like the start of a support group," I add, trying for a small smile.
No one laughs. Donna offers me a soft nod. I go on.
