Possessing the same enigmatic aura as Cirrian, he stared at me for a moment. “Who are you?”
“You’re at my house. I should be asking you that question.”
“Cirrian, where is he?” He started past me, but his attention snagged on the baton in my hand. A smile replaced his frown. “May I?”
Before I could respond, he’d wrenched it from my hand and stormed past me. Cirrian managed to get out an exasperated “Brother” before the new arrival launched the baton at him like a javelin. Cirrian ducked in time to keep it from hitting him. It stabbed into my wall.
“I’ve been looking for you.” He landed a sharp jab on Cirrian’s right jaw, following up with a right hook that caught him on the other side of his face. Cirrian grabbed his hand. “Larkin, why are you here?”
“Why am I here? You killed Diehle and disengaged your seonso no one could find you. Reduced me to looking for you at your last locations.” His lips furled as he took another swing at his brother the moment Cirrian released his hand. Cirrian tossed him to the ground, landing several punches before Larkin rolledout of reach. Swiping Cirrian’s leg, he crashed to the ground. Larkin, in a flash of movement, dislodged the baton and turned to find Cirrian standing several feet away, glaring.
Larkin charged his brother with the baton a whirl of black as he attacked. The weapon smashed into Cirrian’s arm as he blocked Larkin from landing the blows on his face. I cringed, expecting the sound of bone snapping. Nothing. Their violent exchange was flashes of movement: leg swipes, dodging of the baton, strikes connecting with head, face, and stomach. Hip tosses and kicks that landed them several feet from each other. Larkin took the upper hand and reached for the baton Cirrian had wrangled from him, then tossed him across the room. Larkin quickly rolled into a stand, baton at the ready. They had magic but limited their exchange to brutal fighting. Violent contact seemed to be the only way they could rid themselves of their raw anger.
Tossing the baton aside, Larkin lunged at Cirrian, grabbing his shirt and delivering a hip toss that send Cirrian across the room, then charged at him just as he recovered and followed up with an exchange of kicks and strikes. I had front row seats for an MMA match.
Larkin stopped abruptly. His hand darted out, catching Cirrian’s hand that was about to connect with his cheek. With the violent exchange, I expected bruises, blood, and signs of the battle. Except for their disheveled clothing, there were no signs. Used to the fast healing of supernatural beings, I was still impressed by theirs.
The violence continued, and my screams for them to stop went ignored.
I chanced making my way to the kitchen, giving the battling deities a wide berth as I ran past them. Grabbing a large bowl, I filled it with water and moved to my fridge to pull out a few other necessities that I put in a reusable grocery bag. I returned to theliving room to find Larkin’s arms locked around Cirrian’s neck and his legs anchoring him in place. Cirrian had just broken the hold when I dumped the cold water on both of them. It wasn’t enough of a deterrent to cool their anger. They were locked in a hold, raining punches on each other.
Stepping out of reach, I grabbed some eggs from the bag and pelted them with them. Each one got three hurled at them.
Their heads snapped in my direction. I lobbed two more to make my point. Quickly pulling from each other, they stood, mouths gaping, glaring at me as I casually tossed and caught an egg in my hand.
There weren’t any physical similarities, but the looks of utter incredulity and indignation were identical. With one look at Cirrian, Larkin’s rage reignited. Before he could act, a bag of frozen corn careened toward him. He plucked it out of the air.
“No.” I pointed my finger at them. I didn’t think the whole dousing with water and assailing two deities with eggs situation would be the tension-reliever it was.
“Use your words,” I demanded.
“Kara!” Cirrian’s voice thundered. Taking in his stained shirt, he pulled the wet fabric from his body. Larkin still hadn’t found his words and seemed to be stuck between shock, revulsion, and rage. The room was charged with violence and magic. The aura of powerful energy wafting from him was a reminder that I was dealing with gods of death who were capable of great destruction. Regret slowly inched in. Standing taller, I held their gazes. Their tension-coiled postures and honed glares mirrored each other.
“You were destroying my house,” I defended. The audacity and censure from earlier revived and made its way into my tone.
“Then you stop the fight,” Cirrian said.
“With my body? Are you kidding? I wasn’t getting between you two while you were pummeling each other in a death match.”
“We would not have hurt you,” Larkin said with a confidence I didn’t share.
Pointing to the flipped table, hole in the wall, spilled dirt from the planter, and the broken leg of a chair that was now tilted at a pitiful angle, I said, “How could I have known that? Nothing about the exchange between you two made me confident about that. So, I did what I had to.” I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin to meet his eyes.
Larkin’s roar of laughter eased my rising apprehension. “I like her. She’s a lively one.” He studied his brother. “And obviously you do as well,” he said, tugging off his shirt. I averted my eyes from the shirtless deity in my living room to the other one. A flick of his fingers summoned a surge of magic that filled the room. Seconds later, a diaphanous shimmer of blue and gray flashed before solidifying into a solid navy polo shirt. I wasn’t confident it wasn’t a glamor and dismissed the urge to touch it to confirm. His effortless command of magic sent a surge of regret for the way I had handled their fight.
Cirrian looked down at his pants, which had been spared most of the damage, apart from some water that had splashed on them. Holding my gaze, he followed his brother’s actions, stripping away his shirt and giving me glimpses of striated muscles on his abdomen, broad defined pecs, and shoulders. A tapestry of beautiful body art covered his body, including the one that bonded us together. It flashed its appearance before disappearing. Emulating Larkin, he clothed himself in a midnight-blue button-down, sleeves folded back at the forearm. Larkin’s attention was fixed on the mark then swept to mine. I hadn’t sensed its presence, but it must have made an appearance, too, because it renewed Larkin’s anger.
“Why are you bound to her?” he growled.
Cirrian avoided looking at Larkin. “It’s a complicated situation.”
“Everything is a complicated situation with you. And we’re the ones left to make it simple enough to protect you. I’m growing tired of it, Cirrian.”
Larkin’s fingers curled inward, knuckles whitening as his jaw clenched. A thunderstorm of emotions swept over his face, taking several moments to manage. I considered stepping between them to prevent another of their explosive displays of brotherly love, but my self-preservation instinct flashed a warning.
I sucked in a breath when Larkin inched closer to Cirrian. “You killed Diehle.”
“He was an asshole who’d never been held accountable for his cruelty, broken oaths toward his debtors, or his innumerable transgressions. He had too much power and not enough accountability. It was only a matter of time before he met his fitting end.”
