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One of Isabella’s friends gasped. Another ducked behind her phone.

“I merely meant—” Isabella started, but I’d had enough. The combination of chocolate-eclair envy and watching her paw at Archer had shortened my already limited patience.

“You merely meant to establish dominance through social humiliation,” I said, letting ice creep into my tone. “Which might have worked better if you weren’t so obvious about it. Really, the hand-on-arm thing? That’s like, page one of How to Climb the Social Ladder for Dummies .”

“At least I understand my place in society,” Isabella snapped, her perfect mask finally cracking. “Unlike some who think a few shopping bags and borrowed status?—”

“Borrowed?” Something inside me shifted, a predator uncurling that had nothing to do with my vampire nature. The word struck too close to my deepest fears about not belonging. “The only thing borrowed here is your confidence, Isabella.”

Archer’s eyes widened at my tone, and that strange possessive feeling surged again when Isabella’s hand tightened on his arm. She shouldn’t be touching him . The thought came unbidden, fierce and primal.

“I don’t know who you think you are—” Isabella began, but Sylvie cut her off with a laugh that could freeze champagne.

“That’s becoming embarrassingly obvious,” Sylvie said, dabbing her lips with a napkin. “Though I’m enjoying watching you dig yourself deeper. Please, continue. I’m sure there’s still some social capital you haven’t completely burned.”

Isabella’s friends had gone from tweeting birds to statues, their phones forgotten as they watched their queen bee’s perfect facade crumble.

“Alpha Archer,” Isabella tried again, pressing closer to him in a way that made my fangs throb. “Surely you don’t approve of such… disrespect from a mere business associate’s son?”

The urge to separate her perfectly manicured hand from Archer’s arm—possibly along with the rest of her arm—was becoming dangerously strong. What was wrong with me? Since when did I care who Archer let cling to him like a designer leech?

Archer’s eyes met mine, dancing with something that looked suspiciously like understanding. And was that a challenge in his smile?

“Actually,” Archer drawled, “I find Luca’s… perspective quite refreshing.” His gaze locked with mine, and something electric sparked between us. “It’s not every day someone calls out social climbers with such precision .”

That strange possessive feeling purred at his praise, even as I tried to squash it down. What was happening to me? Why did every brush of Isabella’s fingers against his sleeve make me want to commit acts of violence that would definitely violate New Vale’s peace treaties?

“Social climbers?” Isabella’s voice hit a pitch that probably had wolves howling three districts away. “I am a Kingston affiliate! My second cousin twice removed is?—”

“Desperately trying to get Blood Moon featured in New Vale Society Weekly ,” Sylvie finished for her. “We know. The whole city knows. It’s like watching a train wreck in slow motion, but with worse music.”

“Speaking of music,” one of Isabella’s braver friends attempted to salvage the situation, “I heard Whitlock Enterprise is launching a new entertainment venture. Perhaps Luca’s father’s company is involved?”

My inner vampire actually snarled at the way Isabella used this opening to slide even closer to Archer. Her perfume was 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 all dying to 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’s background . 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, how is your 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 Luca put 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 be exhausting , keeping track of who’s actually important in society. Especially from your… perspective.”

They fled like the café was on fire, nearly bowling over a waiter in their haste to escape.

The moment they were gone, Hunter finally rolled over from where he’d been sprawled in the next booth, his noise-canceling headphones askew and a thick smear of chocolate on his chin. “Did I miss something?”

“Only Luca completely destroying Isabella’s social life.” Sylvie grinned, pushing her half-eaten eclair toward her brother as he flopped into a chair at our table. “While simultaneously marking his territory.”

“I was not marking territory!” I protested, even as that possessive feeling purred in satisfaction at Isabella’s retreat. “I was just… expressing concerns about her personal space management.”

“Is that what we’re calling wanting to rip her hands off me?” Archer’s eyes danced with mischief and something else that made my inner vampire stand at attention.

Hunter looked between us, shrugged, and went back to his game. “Cool. As long as I don’t have to attend another clan council meeting about ‘proper social conduct’ like after Sylvie’s last throwdown with the Kingston crew.”

“I still maintain that was justified,” Sylvie sniffed. “Nobody insults my anime collection and lives to tell about it.”

“Speaking of justified.” Archer’s grin turned wicked as he leaned closer to me. “Want to explain that ‘rip her hands off’ comment? Not that I’m complaining about being defended so… passionately.”

His citrus and sunshine scent wrapped around me, making my fangs tingle. That possessive feeling stretched like a cat in sunlight, and I had to physically stop myself from actually growling at the memory of Isabella’s hands on him.

“I just… I mean…” I stuttered, suddenly very interested in my empty latte cup. “She was being presumptuous?”

“Mm-hmm,” Sylvie’s knowing smile should have been illegal. “Nothing to do with territorial vampire prince instincts at all, right?”

“I’m not territorial!” But even as I said it, I knew I was lying. Something about watching Isabella fawn over Archer had triggered a response that felt deeper than simple sibling protection. Which was… concerning. Very concerning.

“Sure, you’re not,” Hunter mumbled around a mouthful of eclair, eyes still glued to his game. “Just like Sylvie’s not obsessed with that K-pop idol from the Park Clan.”

“That’s different!” Sylvie protested, her cheeks pink. “Jin-ho is an artist!”

“And Isabella’s hands weren’t art on my arm?” Archer teased, but his eyes when they met mine held a heat that made my breath catch.

“Can we go home now?” I pleaded, desperate to escape this conversation and these confusing feelings. “Before I actually have to examine why I wanted to commit socially acceptable murder over hand placement?”

Archer’s laugh was warm honey and dangerous promises. “Whatever you say, Prince. Though I have to admit,” he added as we gathered our shopping bags, “watching you bare your fangs at New Vale’s social climbers might be my new favorite thing.”

That possessive feeling practically glowed with pride, and I decided right then that some things—like why I suddenly wanted to maim anyone who touched my not really brother —were better left unexamined. At least for now.

Besides, I had bigger problems. Like figuring out why Archer’s scent was becoming more intoxicating by the minute, and why part of me was already craving another taste of brother-flavored blood.