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My inner vampire actuallysnarledat the way Isabella used this opening to slide even closer to Archer. Her perfumewas definitely violating some sort of supernatural Geneva Convention.

“Oh yes,” Isabella purred, her smile sharp as broken glass. “Do tell us more about your father’s… business ventures. We’re alldyingto know more about your background.”

Before I could respond with something suitably cutting, Archer’s laugh rang out—rich and warm and entirely too amused.

“You know what?” he said, carefully extracting himself from Isabella’s grip again. “I think it’s time we cleared up a few things about Luca’sbackground. After all”—his grin pure mischief—”it would be terribly remiss of me not to properly introduce my brother.”

The silence that followed was absolute. I swear I could hear Isabella’s brain short-circuiting.

“Your… brother?” one of her friends squeaked.

“Brother?” Isabella’s voice cracked like expensive porcelain hitting marble.

“Did I stutter?” Archer’s smile was all teeth now. “Luca Valentine, prince of the Valentine Clan and member of the Whitlock family. Though I have to say”—he turned to me with that private sunburst smile—”watching you verbally eviscerate New Vale’s social climbers might be my new favorite entertainment.”

Isabella had gone pale beneath her perfect makeup. Her friends looked like they were contemplating throwing themselves into the nearest fountain.

“But… but he’s…” Isabella’s hand fluttered at her throat. “The Valentine Clan? From Dark Haven? That’s impossible. They’re?—”

“Careful.” Sylvie’s voice could have frosted hell. “I’d think very carefully about your next words, Isabella. Very carefully indeed.”

I took another sip of my latte, enjoying the way Isabella seemed to be having an existential crisis in designer wear. That possessive feeling in my chest was now doing a victory dance.

“I… I had no idea,” Isabella managed, her hand still stubbornly lingering on Archer’s arm despite her obvious panic. “I would never have presumed to?—”

“Really?” I couldn’t help myself, eyeing where she still clung to him. “Is it the way I wanted to rip your hands off my brother or just my natural charm?”

Archer choked on his coffee, but his eyes blazed with something that made my inner vampire do backflips. Isabella looked like she’d been slapped with a wet fish.

“I… you… that’s…” she spluttered, her composure completely shattered.

“Complete sentences are usually more effective,” I offered helpfully, wondering where this newfound snark was coming from. Maybe premium O negative was like liquid courage for vampires? Or maybe it was just the satisfaction of watching Isabella turn interesting shades of mortified.

“What Luca means,” Sylvie cut in with angelic sweetness, “is that he’s quite protective of family. Unlike some people who view relationships as corporate mergers.” She paused delicately. “Speaking of mergers, howisyour attempt to secure that Kingston alliance going? Still stuck at ‘distant affiliate’ status?”

One of Isabella’s friends actually whimpered. Another was frantically deleting something from her phone—probably all those snide social media posts about the ‘mysterious Valentine nobody.’

“I would never… I didn’t mean…” Isabella’s perfectly glossed lips trembled. “Alpha Archer, surely you understand I was only trying to?—”

“Climb the social ladder using my arm as a rope?” Archer suggested, his grin wicked. “Though I have to say, watching Lucaput you in your place was worth every awkward minute of your… what are we calling it? Territorial display?”

That possessive feeling in my chest practically purred at his words.Mine, it insisted again, which was still ridiculous but somehow felt less wrong than it had five minutes ago.

“I was merely being friendly,” Isabella protested weakly, though she’d finally removed her hand from Archer’s sleeve like it had burned her. “As befitting someone of my station?—”

“And what station would that be?” I asked innocently. “Third cousin twice removed from actual importance?”

Sylvie didn’t even try to hide her snort this time. Archer’s shoulders shook with silent laughter, and that possessive thing in my chest preened at his obvious enjoyment of my snark.

Isabella stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the marble floor. “Well, we should… that is… we have a previous engagement…”

“Oh? At the service entrance?” Sylvie inquired sweetly.

Isabella’s friends scattered like startled pigeons, gathering their designer bags and dignity—what little remained of either. Their queen bee managed one last attempt at saving face.

“Prince Luca.” She dipped into a curtsy that wobbled like her social status. “I do hope you’ll… forgive any misunderstanding.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I smiled, letting my fangs show just a bit. “I’m sure it must beexhausting, keeping track of who’s actually important in society. Especially from your… perspective.”