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He grinned. “I don’t think my familial ancestry is nearly as interesting as yours.”

I shot him an arch look as I stopped to pick up the sheathed dagger and strap it to my thigh.

Casteel waited at the door, his eyes a heated gold as he watched me. Slowly, his gaze lifted to mine. “I still find that dagger sheathed to your thigh wildly arousing.”

I smiled, joining him. “I still find that to be slightly disturbing.”

“Only slightly? I see my dysfunction is rubbing off on you.”

“That’s because you’re a bad influence.”

“Told you once before, my Queen.” He touched his thumb to my chin and then moved the hand to my lower back as he opened the door, causing my heart to flutter about. Gods, how I’d missed these little touches. “Only the already enticingly wicked can be influenced.”

I laughed as I stepped out into a coffee-scented hall and immediately came face-to-face with Kieran.

He’d been leaning against the wall and straightened upon seeing us. “I haven’t been out here long,” he said, his pale gaze flickering over both of us. “I was just coming to tell you guys that you needed to stop making out for five seconds.”

“Liar,” Casteel murmured with a grin. “You’ve probably been out here the whole time.”

Kieran didn’t respond, and Casteel went to him as my senses opened, stretching out to the wolven. The heaviness of worry had replaced the teasing amusement from when I had fed from him. He was still concerned about Casteel, but I didn’t think that was the only reason he’d lingered outside the chamber. I thought that perhaps he just needed to be near Casteel.

And I also thought that Casteel possibly sensed that somehow because when he went to Kieran, he pulled him into a tight embrace.

Seeing the two of them together, holding each other so tightly, brought a wealth of warmth to me. There was no bond between Casteel and Kieran—I’d broken that when I Ascended into my godhood. But the love they felt for each other went beyond any type of bond. Still, there was also a bit of sorrow because I doubted that Casteel had shared any of those gestures with his brother.

Nothing was said, but as always, there seemed to be some kind of silent communication between them, one that must’ve come from knowing one another for so long.

Casteel extended his arm to me. I came forward, placing my hand in his. He tugged me into his side, and a heartbeat later, Kieran’s other hand fisted in my hair. The air shuddered from me as I squeezed my eyes tight against the rush of tears—the rush of…sweet emotion. The simple gesture was a powerful reminder that this moment wasn’t just about them. It was about us.

I breathed deeply, feeling as if it were the first real breath I’d taken in weeks. My eyes closed as Casteel’s and Kieran’s warmth surrounded me and reached inside. To the cold place in the center of my being that I forced myself not to think about. It had heated in those moments when it was just Casteel and me and nothing between our bodies. Nothing in my mind but the feel of his skin against mine. The chilly emptiness had returned while I bathed him, though. Abated for only a little bit when I fed and what had come after. But it had returned as I’d dressed.

But now there was only warmth as I stood between them.

Kieran shifted, pressing his forehead to mine. “Not feeling tired or anything?” he asked, his voice low. “You think you got enough blood?”

I nodded, stepping back, but I didn’t make it very far. Casteel’s arm had tightened around my waist. “I need to speak with Malik.”

Casteel glanced down at me. “I told Kieran while you were sleeping.”

“Do you believe it?” I asked him.

“I didn’t at first, but I don’t see why she’d lie or how she could look so much like you.” Kieran turned. “Malik’s in the kitchen.”

“Still surprised he’s here,” Casteel said, and I tensed at the wariness in his tone.

Kieran nodded. “I can understand that.”

Casteel’s hand returned to the center of my back and remained there as we followed Kieran down the hall to the area of the kitchen. I’d only taken a few steps before one word entered my thoughts.

Sister.

I exhaled roughly as we passed through a rounded opening. The chamber was well lit, but the shades had been drawn on the windows lining the wall, blocking out the morning sun. Blaz and Clariza were at a well-worn table, the surface dull and full of many nicks of various sizes. Marks that must have come from the various daggers and blades laid out upon it.

Malik sat with them, staring at the cup of coffee between his hands. He didn’t look up as we entered, but his shoulders tensed in the same way Casteel’s did beside me. There was no warm, long-overdue embrace. There was no acknowledgment.