Page 118 of Made in Love and Blood

Oh, that hit close to home. Nico’s molars crunched audibly. “Does Dad know you still let Anthony get that ass?”

His shot hit its mark perfectly. Marco’s tattooed jaw tightened and flexed. “I see being taken on as Salvatore’s pet project has been working out for you, little brother.”

Nico stared Marco down, refusing to bite onto a chain he couldn’t properly deal with now. Actions had consequences, after all.

“Guests aren’t allowed past the ropes, Marco.”

“Oh, I know. And like the pets, I bet you get to go anywhere you want, right?”

His own jaw ached from clenching.

Marco flashed his white teeth in a sharp smile. “Her bedroom is cute.”

Nico jerked forward. His brother didn’t flinch.

“Shit, you got it that bad, Nicky? Anthony was really onto something when he said someone must have had you caught up, if you answered the door looking like you did. He heard her, too, you know.”

Nico wouldn’t bite onto any of that, either.

Marco just liked games.

“What the fuck do you want?” Nico demanded.

Marco wet his lips, rolling his eyes while he tilted his head sideways, toward the sound of the party. “Dad’s leaving. He wants to see you.”

“I’m sure he didn’t fucking send you to find me, either, did he?”

“No, I just had the time. Bored, and all. Happened to hear, and then just be in the neighborhood. Now, I’m passing along the message.”

“Watching me all fucking night, I bet. Just like the first time they found us in a bathroom, right?”

Marco looked so satisfied with himself that it made Nico sick to his stomach. That on top of knowing his brother had been outside the bathroom for God knew how long made him want to puke on the goddamn spot.

Or shove his fist down Marco’s throat. One or the other. He wasn’t picky.

“You gotta keep an eye on your problems,” Marco eventually replied, “or they tend to get away from you. Think about it.”

“I’m looking at my biggest one,” Nico returned.

“Same. So, Dad?”

At that, Marco looked straight ahead into the bathroom. That fox-like smile of his curved dangerously at his mouth again.

“After you clean up, I mean,” Marco added.

It didn’t matter that his brother had three or so inches of height and an added fifty pounds of muscle to broader shoulders than Nico’s—genetics the asshole took from their father—because he’d never been afraid to step up to him. Not after the first time he finally hit his brother back and learned why Marco did it to him at the same time.

That shit felt good.

Nico stepped up to him then, too, driving two fingers into Marco’s chest like the fucking gun he didn’t have on him. Probably a good thing, given his suddenly murderous mood. It didn’t matter. Those fists of his could still feel like fucking bullets if he wanted them to.

Marco hated that smoke.

“Do it,” Marco taunted.

He breathed deep, his mind racing.

“Do. It.”