It ought to have turned his stomach, but deep down, Gabriel couldn’t have been happier for his brother.
Not that he’d ever show it.
“This calls for a toast.” Colin, who’d finally pulled himself away from his new medical practice long enough to share a few drinks tonight, raised a glass of warm blood, his dimples flashing. “To our little brother. Not only was he finally right about something, but he’s managed to survive for hours in an actual suit, trapped in a room full of drunk supernaturals, and he hasn’t committed a single murder yet.”
At this, Gabriel cracked a smile. “The night is still young, Dr. Redthorne.”
“To wonders never ceasing,” Dorian said with a broad grin. Then, with a note of true pride in his voice, “To Gabriel. To Obsidian. To fresh starts. Congratulations, brother.”
“Here, here,” Colin said, and all of them clinked glasses—Gabriel, his brothers and Aiden, Charlotte and her sister Sasha, Cole. Even Isabelle had turned up, everyone gathered to celebrate tonight’s grand opening, to show the supernatural world that in the wake of Augustus Redthorne’s death and the end of his terrible reign, the Redthorne royal family reallywaseager to welcome a new era of peace.
Dorian with his newly formed council and strategic alliances.
Gabriel with his club where all were welcome… until they weren’t.
On the surface, it seemed the evening had been a smashing success, both for the larger community as well as Gabriel’s family. Everywhere he looked, his patrons were enjoying themselves immensely, drinking too much and dancing just enough, laughing, forging new friendships and one-night affairs.
Here at the Redthorne’s table of honor, genuine affection and happiness flowed among his brothers as freely as the booze.
It was almost too good to be true. Too good to trust.
The empty place at the far end of the table, set with an untouched glass of blood and a white rose, was an ever-present reminder of just how fragile everything really was.
In the weeks since Malcolm’s betrayal and death, none of them had ventured to talk about it, but Gabriel knew their fallen brother was never far from anyone’s thoughts. Gabriel dreamed about him still, and sometimes, when Colin laughed a certain way, or Dorian gestured with his left hand instead of his right, or Gabriel caught his own gaze in the mirror at an odd angle, it felt as if Malcolm had returned to him, just for the briefest moment.
A hello? A goodbye? A warning? A figment of his imagination?
Perhaps a bit of everything.
Shaking off the morbid thoughts, Gabriel turned away from the empty space and looked around the club. In addition to Jacinda, he’d hired dozens of other servers. Most of them had transferred here from his former properties in Vegas, still owing him one favor or another. All of them had been chosen for their professionalism and discretion.
Yet his witch—who was neither professional nor discreet—had proved to be the most popular by far. With so many patrons waiting for her attention, it was as if the other bartenders and staff didn’t even exist.
Not that Gabriel could blame them.
Every time she leaned over the bar to hear another request, the straps of her top shifted, revealing another inch of creamy skin, another unexplored curve he wanted to map with his hands and mouth.
“Problem, Gabriel?” Dorian asked, grinning as if he knew something Gabriel did not.
“I’m not paying that devious little witch to flirt with the seedy supernatural underbelly of this city.”
“As a bonafide member of that seedy underbelly, I resemble that remark.” Cole, who’d surprised them all by washing the wolf stink from his hair for tonight’s celebration and donning a suit that wasn’t made of flannel, grinned. “Tell you what, Little Red. I’ll flirt with her for free if it’ll help get your princely panties out of a bunch.”
“Try it and you’ll bechokingon my princely panties.” Gabriel tore his gaze from the bar and hissed into his bourbon. “She’s got them all under some sort of spell, no doubt.”
“Seems your patrons aren’t the only ones the witch has entranced,” Dorian said.
In the long silence that followed, Gabriel looked up to find all of them watching, some smirking, some outright laughing, all of them one more comment away from getting banned from Obsidian for life.
“Brilliant observation, King Shitehead.” Gabriel grabbed an ice cube from the champaign bucket and chucked it at his eldest brother’s smug face. “You do recall she’s the same witch who tried to murder you? Am I the only one who remembers?”
“And forcing her behind the bar is your idea of vengeance, then?” Dorian laughed. “I’m honored, brother. Truly. Remind me not to die in battle, lest you put the enemy troops to work mending your clothes and shining your floors.”
“That’ll teach ‘em to mess with you Redthornes,” Cole said, and they all cracked up.
“Forgive me, Gabriel.” Aiden rubbed his stubbled jaw as if he were deep in thought. “I’m a bit behind in royal politicking, not being a prince myself, but is it typical to provide one’s prisoners with a furnished apartment, a clothing allowance, and a paying job?”
“And tips,” Gabriel admitted, gritting his teeth. “What? It’s only fair. Bartending is grueling work.”
