Page 238

Tanner leaned between the front seats and murmured, “No way.”

Darien was grinding his teeth so hard, he swore they’d crumble to dust.

Blaine and Larina Barlowe got out of the vehicle, the latter turning to give him a little wave.

“Who are they?” Loren’s question was breathy and strained.

Darien shook his head, glaring at the back of Larina’s as she ascended the front steps with a haughty little bounce in her gait. “Motherfucker.”

Darien kept close to Loren as he entered the house through the garage, Tanner following closely behind her. There was no way of hiding her, no way of avoiding this shit—their only chance of that was Shay Cousens, who was nowhere to be seen.

Roman had likely insisted she hide the moment the jeep pulled up on the street. It was bad enough that Roman was keeping this house a secret from Donovan; if he found out his son was also involved with a Darkslayer from another circle…Darien loathed to think what the prick might do.

The moment Darien entered the living room, where the others were gathered—all except Shay—the group fell silent. Larina’s eyes immediately landed on Loren, her open expression shifting into something icy and sharp—exactly like he’d suspected.

He’d seen this shit happen a lot—had been involved with enough women throughout the years to spot jealousy whenever it reared its ugly head. But never had he cared enough about anyone to take sides.

Now, though? Now, he cared enough that it could get him into serious fucking trouble.

Larina cocked her head and gave Darien a tight smile. “Wow, Darien,” she crooned. “You weren’t exaggerating.” She pinned Loren with her venomous smile. “She looks just like me.” Of course she’d put different words in his goddamn mouth, the bitch.

Ivy launched into introductions before Darien could start decapitating people. “Larina, Blaine, this is Loren. Loren, this is Blaine and Larina Barlowe. They work for the House of Black.”

Loren didn’t cower as she stepped forward and shook hands with them—Blaine first, and then Larina, who held onto Loren’s hand way longer than Darien liked. Black flickered at the edges of his vision, the beast in his soul foaming at the mouth.

Larina’s smile was pure poison, her grip visibly tightening on Loren’s hand. “You are beautiful,” she fake-gushed. She dropped her volume and added, “For a human, I mean.”

Loren was unfazed; she might not be able to remember much from the past six months, but her spine was still reinforced with steel. “Thank you, you’re far too kind.” She slid her hand free of Larina’s and returned to Darien’s side.

Roman stepped into the center of the group, walking directly through Larina’s sharp gaze that was still fixed on Loren. “I’ll show you around,” he said, his voice level and cool. Roman was gifted in not giving away his true thoughts and feelings; you had to know him really well to see through his facade, and he didn’t give many people the pleasure of knowing him.

Blaine and Larina stayed for over an hour—a painfully long amount of time, the tension in the house thick enough to cut.

Roman was—rightfully—pissed; as buried as his emotions were, Darien could see the hatred simmering in his cousin’s eyes. And beneath that layer of pissed-the-fuck-off was a glimmer of fear. Fear that this little visit would prompt the two Shadowmasters to finally tell Don about the house Roman was keeping from him.

They were in the shooting range, deep in the basement, their group attempting to keep the visit civil. But Darien was a ticking time bomb; if they didn’t get the hell out of here soon, he was going to blow, and it wouldn’t be pretty.

Blaine and Larina had taken several shots of hard liquor, insisting the others do the same. Darien didn’t down a drop; the last thing he wanted was his senses muddled while these two were around, especially since they were firing bullets while under the influence. Ivy was strategic in disposing of her own liquor; she was sober, but she had a very convincing way of pretending not to be.

Loren had joined Shay in the attic—both of them hidden with the spells Itzel put in place. Darien checked on those spells every few minutes; had Morty been here, he wouldn’t have felt the need to. But Darien had no idea how reliable Itzel’s spells were, so he refused to take chances.

The unsolicited visit was going well, all things considered.

Until Blaine said something he shouldn’t say.

“Why don’t you come sit down?” Shay suggested. She sat on the couch in Roman’s attic, stroking Nugget’s velvety fur for comfort.

Loren had been standing by the door since they’d come up here. She was stiff as a board, her slender arms wrapped around her middle. She wore an Avertera talisman, so Shay couldn’t read her aura, but the worry on her face gave away her thoughts.

Loren sighed. “I wish they’d leave.”

“You don’t like Larina, do you?” Shay ventured. She’d seen the way the female Shadowmaster looked at Darien—with a level of lust that was borderline predatory. Had she given anyone other than Darien—anyone who couldn’t handle themselves—that look, Shay might’ve considered calling the cops on her. That girl was big trouble.

Loren fidgeted. “I don’t like either of them, but if I had to choose, I’d pick her brother over her.” With another sigh, she uncrossed her arms and came to sit beside Shay.

“How’d your treatment go?” Shay asked, attempting to distract her.

“It was fine. How did you do that, anyway?” She squinted her big blue eyes. “What kind of magic do you have?”