fingers wide, eyes wider. She took a step backward, staring at him with something close to horror on her face. “Oh wow…”
Her stunned murmur faded away.
Ven gaped up at her, his heart hammering, his mouth dry. “What? What did you feel?”
“What’s going on, Fred?” Patrick appeared at her side, and a detached part of Ven’s mind, the part not freaking out at Death’s strange behavior, noticed his brother seemed to move and speak with a confidence he’d never possessed before. It seemed Ven wasn’t the only one who’d undergone a change today. But what did it all mean? And was it for the good?
Death flicked Patrick a quick look, her forehead furrowing. “I need to test something. I think…” She turned back to Ven, regarding him with an expression he could only call guarded. “I need to take you both somewhere. Now.”
“Where?” Patrick asked, and again Ven was struck by the poise and self-assurance in his brother’s voice and demeanor.
She looked at him, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. A tiny jolt of something that may have once been desire worked its way through Ven’s chest at the sight, but he ignored it. Whatever he was now, Death sensed it and was confused by it. Confused and apprehensive.
That wasn’t good.
He stood up, brushing past her and his brother. “I’m not going anywhere until I’ve had a feed,” he threw over his shoulder on his way to the front door. “I’m starving, I’m tired, and I smell like fish piss. After I’ve had a bite, a sleep, and a shower, probably in that order, then you can start drawing up travel plans. Until then…” He stopped at the door and turned around, tipping a sarcastic wave their way.
Death looked at him from across the room, eyes white. Glowing. “Sorry, Steven.” Her voice rumbled through him like thunder. “But I’m not asking.”
Apprehension flooded through Fred. She stared at Steven, even as she felt Patrick step up behind her and smooth his hands over her hips, as if he knew what she was about to do. That he may very well be able to do such a thing should have scared the metaphysical shit out of her and had her tailbone itching like an insane demon, but it didn’t. Not anymore. Nothing about Patrick Watkins scared her anymore.
His brother on the other hand…
She braced herself, knowing she was about to break one of the highest rules of the Realm, but unwilling to risk any other course of action. Not yet. Not until she had her answers. She needed those answers. The human race needed those answers.
Reaching out for the brothers with her mind, she folded them into her existential vortex and pictured her next location.
And transubstantiated them all to the Realm.
Patrick stared at Fred, unable to take his eyes from her. They were somewhere dark, somewhere warm, but he’d yet to take in his surroundings. Where he was didn’t matter at that very moment. At that very moment what mattered was how Fred was behaving.
Like she expected to be attacked.
She stood frozen, long, dark hair blacker than pitch, pale skin even paler in the soft, muted light. The infamous Grim Reaper’s robe she’d worn in his living room was replaced by black denim jeans, black biker boots, and a black silk hoodie, but the casual items of clothing did nothing to hide the tension in her body, the sublime coiling of every muscle, ready to…what? Attack? Defend?
Moving his stare to her face, Patrick hissed in a quick breath. Her eyes smoldered with white, burning light, like the infinite fires of some eternal energy force. There was power in those eyes he’d never witnessed before. Power and pain and menace. For the first time since seeing her, he saw her for what she truly was—an inhuman entity of sheer and absolute force. It sent a shiver through his body. It made his cock pulse.
Bloody hell, Patrick. Now is not the time.
He rolled his eyes and let out a harsh sigh, shaking his head in disgust.
“Well.” The tension suddenly flowed from Fred’s body and she smiled. “That clears up one thing.”
“Clears up what?” Ven snapped, and it took a second for Patrick to realize his brother stood to his left. In full vamp mode. “Where the hell are we?”
“Not hell, Steven,” Fred replied, turning to Ven. “Home.”
Patrick watched her give his brother a wide, cheeky grin and a shard of something dark and wrong stabbed into his chest. Something a lot like jealousy. He ground