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“I do not know.” Victor sounded troubled, which definitely meant we should be concerned.

“Ah-ha! His Lordship doesn’t know everything,” Zee smirked, folding his arms and propping his shoulder against the wall.

“I have never claimed to be all-knowing.”

“You just fuckin’ act like it.”

Victor’s eyebrow hitched. “I know precisely enough for someone of my age and experience.”

“So fuckin’ old.” Zee rolled his eyes. “Imma get more wine and a whole plate of tiny quiches, which is a totally normal thing for me to do.”

“Do not go far,” Victor warned.

“Okay Daddy.” Zee winked and dove back into the bar.

“If there’s trouble, I have no doubt he will find it.”

As we waited for Zee to return, guests filed back and forth having a great time at their LARP evening. Nobody seemed aware that two people had died, and as the minutes ticked by, no police showed up, no Special Supernatural Division agents . . . nobody.

“Maybe we should call Agent Leomaris?” I wondered aloud. “Actually, never mind . . .” I did not want Leomaris asking why the Heroes of San Francisco were in frosty Minnesota.

Zee walked backward out the bar doors, carrying a plate stacked with every bite-sized morsel he’d been able to lay his hands on. I took a tiny pie, suddenly hungry. Zee ate one in a single bite, and Victor glared at his.

“Alright, we’ve waited long enough. Back to the hotel room for kinky mirror sex and nibbles,” Zee declared. “Also very normal for us. See, we can do normal.”

I glanced at Victor, who seemed to be considering the idea.

“We did our bit by finding the dead guys,” Zee said. “C’mon, look at all this food that I definitely cannot take back to the bar without someone noticing I stole it.”

“Very well, we shall retire for the evening,” Victor agreed. “But we must prepare for a call once the police arrive. Any intimate intentions should be reserved for later.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Zee strode ahead, leading the way up the stairs and back to our room. Once inside, he placed his tower of tiny pies on the table, and we got comfy in the chairs, eager to tuck in. After eating my fill, I raided the minibar, and it wasn’t long before we were content, and maybe a little tipsy—except Victor, who didn’t get drunk unless Tom Collins was serving.

Crawling into Zee’s lap, I lay back in his arms, more comfortable and relaxed than I’d been for the past week on the road. We’d been on the move since leaving Whiteacre Falls and its werewolf pack . . . and my brother, who’d sprung a surprise visit on us.

His attack had been a valuable lesson in why we didn’t stand a chance against him.

I knew what had to be done, but as I snuggled deeper into Zee’s arms and listened to his voice rumble as he told Victor about the time he’d been performing a private one-on-one and accidentally given the unprepared client a heart attack, I really did not want to face the truth of our future.

My brother would crush Zee as though he were nothing more than an irritating bug. Victor too. They were both powerful among their own kind, but it wouldn’t be enough against a dragon.

Someday soon I’d have to fight my brother, like I’d tried to before, but this time I couldn’t mess up. Dragons healed from almost anything, but if I could get to his heart—if I could eat that—then he wasn’t ever coming back, and I really would be the last dragon.

That was the plan I’d come up with.

But neither Zee nor Victor would let me face him alone.

Together. Never apart. Always.

They’d die for me . . . but not if I had my way.

Zee’s arm tightened around my waist, his keen empathic senses picking up on my melancholy.

“More whiskey, Kitten?” he asked, voice low in my ear.

“Not advisable,” Victor warned. “We’ll need clear heads for the authorities.”

“Yeah, but shouldn’t they be here by now?” Zee scooped his glass up with his free hand and sipped his wine, which we’d gotten from the minibar.