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Jasper’s chest presses against my back and Zyran guards my front.
Kornelius is silent by my side, but his hand slips out to take mine. I let him, confused and admittedly frightened now that I know I’m in the viper’s nest.
His thumb runs across my knuckles as if to reassure me that he’s not going to let anything happen to me.
And then we’re at the top. The doors open, revealing the most beautiful penthouse suite I’ve ever seen in my life.
Right in the middle, though, is a pedestal that reeks of death magic—where I expect the place the death stone should be sitting.
It’s empty, but the living area is filled with artifacts worth a small fortune. I recognize a few from some historical texts referring to a mythical goddess of death.
I know better than to assume myths aren’t real. In my world, monsters exist.
And I’m trapped between three of them as they collectively lead me into the room.
Spirits. What have I gotten myself into now?
Chapter17
Jasper
Well, my brothers certainly have been living it up while playing dead.
I’m very much not amused by the extravagance of the penthouse suite where my brothers have been supposedly held captive. Nor am I comforted by the decorative array of weapons on the wall.
“Home sweet home,” Zyran mutters as he immediately heads to the bar. He leans his bloodied sword against the side, not seeming to care that it paints the floor and sleek maple cabinets red.
Kornelius gestures inside. “Please, make yourself comfortable. Would either of you like a drink?”
Issy’s shoulders remain tense under my touch, and I’m in no mood for pleasantries, either.
“I can’t be too comfortable with a damn noose around my neck,” she snaps. There’s definitely less of an edge to her words without her magic, though.
Kor gives her an apologetic smirk. “Sorry. It was just for show. I can take it off.” He approaches her, but she flinches. “May I?”
She blinks at him a few times, then nods.
He slips his fingers around her neck and even I can see the sexual tension between them. But he doesn’t act on it and simply removes the collar as promised. I saw Issy try to remove it multiple times, so it’s apparent only he can take it off—maybe Zyran, too.
Issy visibly relaxes as Kor stuffs it into his pocket. “Better? Now do you want that drink?”
“Assuming this place isn’t bugged, how about ‘answers’ on ice?” I suggest. “With a twist of ‘what the fuck is going on here?’”
Zyran smirks over his whiskey glass, already indulging in a few healthy sips. “No bugs, at least none that we know of. With some of the shit we’ve said in here, Daithi definitely would have beheaded me a few times.”
“And castrated you,” Kornelius says with a chuckle.
No bugs, then. Good enough for me.
Kornelius sobers after a moment, but his mask has slipped now that we don’t have an audience. He looks like he wants to take Issy’s hand again, but after seeing this place, she’d probably slap it away.
We’re not getting the full truth here, considering that my brother killed five hundred people just to bring us to New York, so I’m going to maintain some reservations about Issy’s safety.
As well as my own.
“Ishara,” Kor says. “Would you mind if I spoke with my brother alone?”
She straightens, and even though I’m bracing myself for the effects of her verbal magic, it still hits me like a truck. “Yes, I mind.”
