“You expect me to sit while she is out there alone?” Drake demanded, pumping his fists.
“Dagger is with her.”
“Iam not with her.”
Maxen sighed, his arm curved protectively along the back of his wife’s chair. “You were lucky enough to only need a few stitches.”
“I agree.” Calliope’s gaze deepened in concern.
The two had reluctantly remained here by mutual refusal. Maxen would not risk his wife, and Calliope would not allow her husband to leave her behind. Drake understood. He hoveredon the verge of madness. Swaying, he grabbed the back of the nearest chair.
“Sit down or I’ll make you sit down,” Maxen commanded.
“Then bloody make me,” he growled back.
“Boys,” Calliope intervened. “Let him pace, Maxen. You wouldn’t have fared any better if it were me.”
Maxen grunted.
Reaper rolled his coin from finger to finger. “You know, for a man who owns half the bloody coast and can knock out half of England with one punch, you’re awfully squeamish about a little thing calledlove.”
“It’s not alittlething,” Drake growled, then cursed when he realized he’d stepped straight into his brother’s trap when he saw the fool knowingly grin.
This was no little damn thing. It was enormous. It was Violet, fire-tongued, fire-haired, fiercely clever Violet. Who looked at him and saw all the ragged edges he couldn’t hide and still didn’t shy away from them.
He loved her to death.
Drake scraped a hand down his face. “I need a bloody drink.”
“No,” came Maxen’s instant response. “You have a head wound. No drink. And no sleeping for the next few hours.”
“Maxen is right,frère, you should use this time to reflect on why you chased your little flame-haired flower away.”
He directed a vicious glare at Reaper.
“You chased Violet away?” Calliope asked, wide-eyed.
“No, of course not,” Drake denied, guilt bludgeoning him at the same tempo as the throb in his head. Could he honestly claim he hadn’t?
Reaper hummed. “Ah. Then my memory must be playing tricks on me.” He flicked his coin into the air and caught it again. “I could’ve sworn you told her she doesn’t belong—”
“Reaper,” Drake snarled. “She didn’t belong there.”
His brother lifted his hands in mock surrender. “If I only had a coin for all the times my name has been dripped with such afondtone.”
“Perhaps you should stop spouting nonsense.”
“I was merely pointing out that when you draw a line that firmly, you shouldn’t look so affected when someone stays on the other side of it. But good to know ‘doesn’t belong there’ turned to ‘didn’tbelong there,’frère.”
Drake wanted to throttle him. Bloody arse.
Calliope sighed, scratching the tip of her nose. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
Maxen enveloped her hand in response, sending them both glares.
Drake sighed, resigned to this restless fate. “Where is Deveraux?”
“Left with Serpent,” Reaper muttered. “Refused to go along with me.”
