“Don’t let me interrupt you brother,” Caleb said softly, closing the door behind him. “You know I don’t mind.”
Fear and shock shot through Arianna’s eyes, her gaze darted toward Caleb, but Braith held her still, keeping her sheltered from Caleb’s scrutiny. A scrutiny he knew would be cruel, speculative, and far more leering than Braith wanted her exposed to. He held her for a moment longer before sliding her feet slowly back to the ground. How had he missed Caleb’s approach? He usually sensed his brother the moment he hit the hallway. Caleb carried a wave of cruelty, anger, and depravity with him that was hard to miss.
“You need to go to my room,” he told Arianna softly.
“By all means continue,” Caleb drawled lightly. “I’ll wait. I’ll even enjoy watching.”
Horror bloomed in Arianna’s gaze, she tried again to look at Caleb, but Braith held the back of her skull, keeping her sheltered from Caleb’s gaze. “Arianna,” Braith growled. Her eyes came back to him, her lips, still swollen from his kiss, began to tremble. He could sense her fear, her revulsion. He wished that he could take this away from her, shelter her from this, but he could not. It was too late for that, Caleb was amongst them now. And Caleb was one of the nastiest sons of a bitches that Braith had ever met. He didn’t want him anywhere near Arianna. “Go.”
She hesitated for a moment before nodding swiftly. He released her, taking a step back as she squared her shoulders and locked her jaw. She turned away from him, keeping her chin raised as she strode across the room, not looking at Caleb as she moved. “Wait!” Braith bristled, stepping forward as Caleb barked out the harsh command. He didn’t want anyone ordering her around, least of all his little brother. Arianna stopped, her gaze turned slowly to Caleb. She did not waver, did not hesitate as she kept her shoulders proudly back and her jaw clenched tightly. Caleb lifted an eyebrow, amusement flitted over his face, but Braith saw the immorality in his brother’s gaze as it raked sharply over Arianna.
“She’s not really your type Braith, not that you can see that, but she’s really not. I, on the other hand, always liked a redhead. I really think you should give me a turn at her.”
Horror flashed across Arianna’s face, her gaze darted frantically toward Braith. He hated that she was being exposed to this, hated his brother for doing it to her, but he could not stop it, not without revealing too much, and then her life would be forfeit. “I don’t share.”
Caleb shrugged absently, folding his arms over his chest as his gaze slowly raked Arianna from head to toe again. “Anymore,” Caleb purred. “Things were different just a month ago.”
“Go!” Braith snarled at her, fighting the urge to punch his brother in the face. Amusement flickered over Caleb’s handsome features, but he did not try to stop Arianna again as she hurried from the room. Though she hid it well Braith could sense her confusion, fear, and horror. Braith kept his attention on his brother, struggling to keep his fury under control and his face impassive. He wasn’t sure he succeeded though, as Caleb was staring at him questioningly. A gaze he didn’t realize that Braith could now see.
“What are you doing here Caleb?” he inquired when he heard the soft click of the door closing behind Arianna. Though his vision darkened without her beside him, he was still able to dimly make out his brother. Caleb shrugged as he moved into the room, settling himself leisurely upon one of the sofas. Braith bristled, but didn’t show a reaction to his brother’s cavalier attitude.
“Father is holding a banquet tonight.”
“Why?”
Caleb picked at the back of the couch as he stretched his long legs before him. “Jericho has returned.” Braith stiffened, Keegan padded over to him, brushing up against his legs. “And you know what it means if little brother has returned?”
“The war will resume,” Braith answered softly, his gaze darting toward the closed door. He didn’t want Arianna to know about this, not yet anyway.
“Yes,” Caleb agreed. “I wonder what he has learned.”
Braith didn’t respond; there was no use in trying to guess at what Jericho had learned during his time away, until Jericho informed them what it was. He had not agreed with Jericho being sent out to try and assimilate with the rebels in the first place. Jericho was young, reckless, and it was dangerous to send a prince into enemy territory. But he had insisted upon going, wanting to do something for their cause, wanting to prove that he was something more than the youngest son. And their father had been all too happy to send him, eager to see what Jericho might learn about the rebel faction, and not really caring if he lost his youngest. He had two other sons after all.
But Jericho was the only member of their family that Braith had ever remotely been close to, and he had not wanted to take the risk of losing his brother. His protests that if Jericho was captured he could be used as a weapon against them had fallen on the deaf ears of his brother and father. His father would not rescue Jericho if something went wrong, a point that he had made very clear.
And now Jericho was back, and if he was back that meant he had discovered a way to bring down the rebel faction. He had discovered a way to destroy their enemies. Braith wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to hear what it was though.
***
Braith stood in his father’s chambers, his hand folded over the head of his cane. Keegan sat silently beside him. It had been a long time since Braith had been in his father’s private living area. He could not see them now, but he knew over the years that his father had acquired more things, amassing his fortune within these private walls. He could sense things about him, hear the extra padding in the dull echo that rang through the enclosing walls.
“Your brother has returned.”
“So I’ve been told.”
Braith didn’t have to see his father to know that he was large, imposing, and dark. He was also sadistic. It was how he had managed to keep control of their race for over four hundred years, when many rulers had failed to keep it for more than a hundred at a time. His father ruled with an iron fist, no one stepped out of line, anyone that disobeyed was killed. They were not merely killed though, but tortured and destroyed in the most brutal and horrendous ways possible as a way to deter others who might try to bring the king down. He ruled by fear, he had won the war, and the vampires respected and obeyed him because of that.
Braith felt he should respect him too, he was his father, and he had succeeded where many had failed, but Braith felt nothing for the man except an intense dislike. His father had been cruel to the world outside of this palace, but he had been even crueler to the world inside of it. Beatings had been a mandatory rule upon growing up, being the first born Braith had received the blunt force of them, and being the youngest boy Jericho had also been heavily focused upon. Caleb had mainly managed to slip through untouched. Caleb also had a cruel way about him that his father recognized, and admired.