Page 1 of Live Love Lasso

Lemon

“Of course, Varitius, that won’t be a problem.” My father narrows his crimson eyes at me over a desk littered with potion bottles and half-finished ingredient lists. “I’ll see to it personally.”

I grimace through the life-sized hologram rising from a round disk situated between us on the desk. Varitius Nerazar, vampire head of House Nerazar, nods briefly and then disappears from view. I’d utter a sigh of relief, but what’s next is going to be just as unpleasant as my father’s convo with my first and only solo potions customer.

Father pinches the bridge of his nose and sits back in his chair, releasing a sigh that sounds as if it carries the weight of the world.

I say nothing because I learned a long time ago that explaining what happened will just be seen as an excuse. Next to me, my older brother, Hunter, crosses a long leg over his knee, running one hand through blond waves that match mine. I don’t risk a glance over at him. He was my assistant for that potion, and it was his mistake with an ingredient that ultimately caused the potion to fail.

That failure produced a truly unfortunate response in our customer’s daughter, Serafina, who broke out in hives this week, of all weeks. I’d laugh if it wasn’t so fucking bad for me that this happened.

“Your potion was a failure, Lemon,” my father states, sitting forward as he refocuses on me. “You ruined Serafina’s Introduction Ceremony, and now Varitius and his mates are scrambling to figure out if they can move it out several weeks until the hives go down.”

It’s no use to remind my father that I’ve been successfully brewing potions for our shop for twenty years without a single mar on my record. I achieved master’s level two decades ago, and I’ve been working behind the scenes ever since.

That’s why he trusted me to finally handle an order on my own. Hunter was just backup for the ingredient prep. Something he offered to do, by the way. I should have checked behind him, of course, so it’s on me, really.

“Father, I⁠—”

He lifts a hand to cut me off as he stares out the window. “I’ve spent most of this morning on calls cleaning up your mess. We have a reputation of excellence to uphold. Not to mention, Rookwood Potions is gobbling up every smaller potions house they can, and they are breathing down my godsdamned neck. They’d love nothing better than to see us stumble so we have a reason to sell.” He stares off into the distance, rubbing a hand over his face. “I should reach out to headquarters about that. The human world doesn’t allow monopolies like Rookwood. Perhaps it’s a policy the haven system should adopt.”

He looks back at me, eyes narrowing to a full-on glare as he runs a hand through elegant salt-and-pepper waves. The swirling red vampire familial tattoos of our house run down the backs of his hands, down his neck and into his crisp white shirt. It’s almost like every one of our ancestors are mocking me and my singular failure.

I could scream, but it won’t help. None of it will help. And the fact that Hunter hasn’t uttered a single word is not lost on me. If he wasn’t Father’s favorite child, I’d throw him under the bus right now.

“I’m sending you away,” Father says curtly, sucking at his fangs. “Somewhere you can learn from someone who isn’t me. Because, at this point, I’m not sure I can teach you anything I haven’t already attempted to impart.”

Rapid-fire blinking is the only response I can summon as I process what he said.

The breath constricts in my lungs. My own Introduction Ceremony is next month. It’s the single biggest social event in a vampire’s life. It’s my formal introduction into society! We’ve been planning the party for the better part of a year. Surely he doesn’t mean…

“We’ll cancel your ceremony for now.” Father’s tone has gone bored and dry, a sign he considers this conversation over. “We obviously cannot celebrate you when you’ve just ruined the same event for one of your peers.” He stands. “Imagine if we threw a ball in your honor right now? The optics are beyond unfortunate. I’ll send you to the Glimmer Potions House in Pine Gulch. The proprietress has already agreed to take y⁠—”

I shoot up out of my seat with a growl that escapes me before I can withhold it. “Montana? The country? Are you serious? I’ve never made a single mistake, and at the first one, you’re sending me to the middle of nowhere?”

Father leans to tower over me, his second eyelid flashing protectively over crimson irises. It’s a clear sign of his anger.

“You’ve never sent Hunter away for any of his mistakes,” I point out, finally willing to toss my brother to the wolves. Of the two of us, I’m a far better potions maker, even though he’s been at it for longer.

One of Father’s blond brows lifts. “The situations couldn’t possibly be more different, Lemon. Hunter never fucked up a potion for Varitius Nerazar’s godsdamned socialite daughter! You’ll pack today. I’m sending you tomorrow.” His expression returns to neutral. “Letitia is a brilliant potions maker, and she built Glimmer from nothing, much like I built our potions house. Learn from her. When things settle down here, I’ll bring you back.”

The neutral mask disappears, and irritation replaces it. “You may go.”

That’s all he says as he jerks his head toward the door.

Father’s communication watch rings, and he glances down at it with a frown. Rising, he stalks to the window and answers quietly, looking out at the city’s high-rises.

I glance at Hunter to find my brother—a younger mirror image of our father—with a carefully flat expression. “How could you?” I spit, rage finally overtaking me. Rage that Hunter fucked up such an important potion and rage that I didn’t check behind him.

“So easy to mix up chokecherry and blackcurrant extract,” he says with a dismissive look. “It’s obviously unfortunate we couldn’t tell the difference until Serafina Nerazar drank it and broke out in hives. You’ll be fine, Lemon. Montana’s nice, I’m sure.”

“Fine?” I nearly screech. Montana’s all fields and cows and fucking trees. No shopping or social life to speak of. I don’t belong anywhere near Montana. It takes everything in me to summon a second of peace so I don’t start yelling while Father’s taking a call at the window.

“You’ll be back before you know it,” he says with a fake smile. “And Father and I will hold down the fort while you’re gone.”

I’m not going to get anywhere with him and this conversation. He’ll never apologize, and he’ll never change. Really, I have myself to blame. He’s an excellent potioneer, but he’s flubbed enough random things over the years that I should have known better.

Scowling at him, I push away from the chair and stalk across the plush crimson carpet to the office door. I yank it open with all the force I have and disappear down the dark hallway toward my room.