Deveraux grinned at them. “That is, if you’re not offended by our methods to extract information from our foes.”
“Deveraux,” Reaper growled from beside her.
“What, little brother? Her life was placed in harm’s way, too. Doesn’t she deserve to know?”
“Do you want to be shipped off in a crate to some godforsaken country?”
Deveraux shrugged. “If I’m weak enough to be tossed in a crate by you lot, then ship me across the ocean right now.”
Reaper rose to his feet slowly. “Didn’t you lose to us once already?”
“I recall you on the losing end, and me on the offering-an-olive-branch end.”
“Olive branch, my arse.”
Violet sighed. “Please don’t fight on account of me. As for your offer...”Don’t do it, Vi.You’ve already learned your lesson once. “Yes. I believe I would like to see for myself.”
Reaper cursed.
If her brother’s identity were to be exposed this day, she wanted to know. Plus, what if she’d been mistaken? A smidgeon of hope remained, didn’t it? What if the man wasn’t who she recognized in her mind? What if they simply looked similar?
There was only one way to find out.
*
Drake’s fist struckthe cockchafer’s face. Bone met bone with a satisfying crack, snapping the man’s head to the side. The ironring set into the wall chimed softly at the impact, answering the violence like an old accomplice. Blood sprayed, dark against the stone floor, and still Drake did not relent. The pressure inside him demanded an outlet, and his fists knew exactly where to find one. He’d also barred his brothers from the dungeon, in no mood for their scrutiny. And they would read him too easily right now.
He had never known such annoyance with himself before. Never known desperation like this. Who’d ever have thought regret tasted this bloody bitter?
His fist connected once again.
What do you believe a lover to be?
The words echoed far louder in his head than the crack of bone. He shouldn’t have asked her that. Could he even answer it himself? He’d never had a lover before. Only encounters that ended after a few hours. No expectations. That had always been sufficient. No entanglements. He had constructed his life with considerable care around the absence of exactly this kind of complication.
He’d never had a woman in his own bed either.
Never slept side by side with one.
He should have agreed. Should have said yes without hesitation. What use were definitions if refusing them cost him more nights with her?
He seized the fellow by the collar, hauled him upright, and drove him back into the wall hard enough to rattle teeth. “I won’t say this again. Talk,” Drake growled. “Now.”
The blackguard smiled.
“Who sent you?” Drake demanded. He held him there, close enough that the man had nowhere to look but at him.
The man spat blood at his boots.
Drake tightened his grip, knuckles white, forcing himself not to snap the man’s neck. They did not kill. That was theirone cardinal rule. The rest—well, the rest was up for debate. Drake shoved him back with a snarl and stepped back. The man collapsed onto his knees, chains around his wrists scraping against the wall.
“Rook already told me who you are.” A blatant bluff.
The arse’s face instantly contorted.
Heh. That was answer enough. “Quite the chirpy fellow, that Rook. Understands the value of life.”
“I know no Rook,” the man spat.
