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She still wore her dress. And she was utterly adorable. A pair of tiny horns resembled cat ears. Patches of red-orange fur made her appear both soft and scaled. Crimson eyes glowed, her pupils nothing but thin slits. Fangs extended over her bottom lip.
Why did she shift like this? Other demon-hosting immortals did not.
Focus. With her murder mittens bared, she flew closer. McCadden and Farrow geared to defend. Brochan flared his wings, knocking the pair backward and catching Viola against his chest.
“No one touches her!” he grated as he struggled to contain her.
They grappled for supremacy. She was a bundle of fury, and she showed no mercy, attacking to maim. Or worse. Anger sparked, but it was dulled by incredulity. All this because he left her safely on a balcony?
He landed no blows. Even now, he couldn’t bring himself to injure her. Twice he caught his brother’s shocked gaze.
“Stop this, kitten. Before you injure yourself.” Brochan’s gentle tone surprised even him.
“You do not hurt my baby!” she screeched.
His gaze zoomed back to his brother, whose jaw dropped.
The goddess fought for the devil-dog? He glared as he dodged a particularly nasty blow to his testicles. Viola took advantage of the opportunity and shredded his upper body. Blood poured.
“I haven’t hurt your baby,” he grated. Yet.
“That’s right, and you won’t!” Slashing and biting, too wily to contain, she attacked with more fervor. Until she tired herself out, her movements slowing. When she noticed their audience, she finally halted. “McCadden. Strange woman I’ve never met. You’re not Fluffy.”
In a blink, Viola shifted back to her usual form and smoothed the fabric of her gown. "You must be parched,” she said oh, so casually. “Shall I send Brochan to fetch us drinks?”
McCadden glowered at her, the teardrops tattooed on his face starker than usual. His pink hair shagged. The silver piercings that lined one of his eyebrows glinted in the light. His inked hands curled into hard balls of rage as he stepped toward the goddess.
Brochan enfolded Viola in his wings and drew her against his chest. Hands flat on his pectorals, she blinked up at him, panting.
“Do you want to explain what just happened?” Though he’d already guessed the answer. She’d expected her pet to be here. Likely the reason for her earlier burst of joy.
“No, thank you,” she said, turning to face their audience. “In case you didn’t notice, we have guests.”
He slung an arm around her waist, locking her in place lest she dart off. But she didn’t attempt to run or fight. No, she pressed against him. Without thought, he zoomed his gaze to his brother once more. Still glowering. Heat suffused Brochan’s cheeks, a slight tinge of guilt flaring, but he did not adjust his stance.
“Hello, and welcome to our starter palace,” Viola said, suddenly full of cheer. “Please ignore the construction we haven’t started. A good goldsmith with reasonable rates is so hard to find these days, wouldn’t you agree? Oh, that reminds me. Brochan, I meant to tell you I’ve decided to redecorate the entire realm. Picture it. The best kingdom anyone anywhere has ever ruled.” As she spoke, she spread her arms to encompass the room, as if she were describing every minute change in elaborate detail.
Had there ever been a more fascinating creature? “How did you find me?” he inquired of Farrow. He and Viola would chat later. He would insist on it.
“Your tattoo,” the Forsaken said, pointing to his arm. “I saw the coordinates before you flashed.”
She’d used his own tracker against him? Why? Never mind. As if he didn’t know. A possible key to Nevaeh could turn friends into enemies. “Why did you bring McCadden?”
“I was worried about you,” his brother snapped. “Rightly so. The goddess clearly seeks to doom you.”
Viola flinched ever so slightly. “I’m Brochan’s partner. Granted, I’ve done the brunt of the work so far, coming up with the plan and tidying up headquarters, but I have high hopes he’ll come through for us in the end.”
That flinch… Brochan grazed his claws up and down her belly as if to soothe a hurt. Thankfully, his wings hid the action.
Farrow tilted her head, her attention laser-focused on Viola. “You are the one causing so much trouble among the Forsaken?” Her mouth curled with disdain. Death flickered in her irises, whirling, attempting to hypnotize the goddess. “Give me what I want, or I will—”
“I said no one touches her,” Brochan roared, clasping his prize tighter.
The other Forsaken blinked, her brow furrowing with confusion. “You guard the hider of a key?”
“He does. Savagely.” Viola evinced all kinds of smugness.
A corner of his mouth twitched. He did like her confidence.
McCadden moved his gaze between Brochan and Viola, his countenance darkening.
Just like that, Brochan’s amusement dissolved. Guilt became an acid rain inside him. Though his feelings toward the goddess had softened, his plans for her unclear, he knew he had no right to enjoy the female his brother had loved.
