Page 127 of Heimlock

“Trinte? Are you home?” It’s Fynn.

“Kyrielle?” That’s Orliana.

I examine the oversized T-shirt big enough to reach my knees. This will have to do. Trinte’s already walking to the front door, but I rush by him, fueled by indignation. Maybe it’s misplaced, but this man wept in my arms over what Fynn did. I don’t care that he claims it’s more complicated than it appears — you don’t electrocute your brother.

“What the—?” Trinte says as I step in front of him, turning the front door locks.

I shoot him a look, swinging the door open. Fynn, expecting Trinte, has to dip his head to look at me. His right eye is swollen shut. “Kyrielle?”

“Kyrielle!” Orliana rushes past him to give me a hug.

I glare at Fynn the whole time, barely feeling her hug. Around her arm, I snarl at him, “I want you to know that if you ever do that to him again, I will become your personal fucking nightmare.”

Orliana releases me with a stunned expression. Jabbing a finger at the Dragon, I say quietly, “I mean it, Fynn. Ever again, for any reason ever, and I won’t give a fuck that my best friend loves you.”

Fynn looks at Orliana, dangerously close to looking amused. “Is she serious?”

My fist curls, ready to punch him, because how dare he dismiss me!

When I go to take a step closer, to do just that, something jerks at the back of my shirt. “Easy, Firefly.” I narrow my eyes and cross my arms. Fynn watches me, bewildered. “You’re lucky — this time.”

Fynn looks over my head, finally properly disturbed. “So you two are friends now?”

I eye Fynn’s crotch and Trinte yanks me back, wrapping an arm around my chest in temperance. “It would be a mistake to discount her, brother. I recommend we go inside.”

“Or not,” I growl, ignoring the way Orliana watches me, jaw dropped and arms slack at her side. “Why are you here?”

Fynn does a double take, having the gall to look indignant. Orliana puts a hand on his arm as he shoots back, “I’m here to talk to my brother, Kyri.”

“He’s properly warned, Firefly.” There’s amusement in Trinte’s voice as he pulls me back.

I let him, because I’m nice like that, but I don’t stop glowering at the red Dragon as they step in.

“Go finish your pancakes before they go cold,” Trinte whispers in my ear, then kissing my temple.

“Fine,” I mutter. Shooting Fynn one last look, I stalk over to my chair. Dramatically grabbing my knife, I saw into the pancakes, giving Fynn a very pointed look. Orliana’s watching me like she’s never seen me before, but she doesn’t leave Fynn’s side. Right now, there’s a clear delineation between the four of us. Long-lasting relationships hanging by a worn thread.

Stabbing my pancakes, I chew angrily, watching Trinte walk back into the kitchen. “Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Water?”

“Bleach?” I mutter.

Trinte shoots me a warning look, and I inhale a steadying breath. Okay, maybe that comment was a little much.

“Erm,” Fynn looks at me, then his brother. “Maybe I should skip a beverage today.”

“She won’t be pouring it,” Trinte assures him. With a too-wide, disturbing smile, I take another bite of my pancakes.

“And how do I know you don’t want me dead either?” Fynn says cautiously. Orliana takes his hand, casting me a worried look.

“Because if I wanted you dead, you’d be dead,” Trinte says simply. Holding up the coffeepot, he asks, “Coffee?”

“Um, yes, please,” Orliana says nervously.

“Fine,” Fynn says, glancing at me with suspicious golden eyes.

“Have a seat.” Trinte waves at the table I’m sitting at. It gives me immense glee to see Fynn edge over to a chair like I’m a wild beast waiting to take a bite. He looks properly unnerved when I grin with a mouth full of pancakes.

Making men nervous is my purpose in life.