Kaden didn’t shrink from him. “Yeah, well, I don’t take orders from you.”
Declan bent down until he was close enough to count the fuzz patch sprouting along the teen’s jaw. The anger inside him was dark. “I don’t negotiate with children.”
“Declan, stop. He did what I asked.” She yanked on his arm and he turned away. She glanced up at him and his breath caught at the look in her eyes. They smoldered with heat, promises, yet he saw sadness as well.
“Anyone hear from Bill?” she asked.
Nico shook his head. “There’s been nothing. Cale was by this morning. He’s heard nada.”
Ana turned to the gathered group. “Let’s call it a night and get some rest. We’ll regroup, catch up, and figure out our next move in the morning.”
She started for the stairs and didn’t bother to look back. “Alex, you’re with Francesca. Daniel, there’s a room beside Kaden’s, he’ll show you.” She paused, hand on the railing. “Ransome, if you’re staying, the sofa in the parlor is all I’ve got left.”
Declan watched as her small form disappeared at the top of the landing. He turned, catching the look in Ransome’s eyes. “Spit it out, LaPierre.”
The tall shifter’s eyes were narrowed. “Just never thought I’d see the day, is all . . .”
Declan shook his head. “I’m not in the mood for riddles. Say what the hell you mean.”
The teens slipped by, with Francesca leading the way up the stairs. Ransome’s eyes lingered a little too long on the necromancer in Declan’s opinion.
“She’s slave to Samael.”
Ransome snorted. “Don’t worry ’bout me. I’m not the one with a problem.” Ransome smiled widely and cupped his crotch. “Ana’s got you by the balls.” He laughed softly. “Vampire, sorcerer . . . that’s some fucked-up shit. Are you officially a hybrid?”
“You’re an asshole.”
“Yeah, but I’m ball and chainless.”
“Fuck you.” Declan started for the stairs.
“I’ve got business at the club, but my men will patrol for the remainder of the night. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Declan grunted an answer. He was nervous. They were out of Hell and back in the real world. It was still the same twisted reality he’d left behind, but his personal situation had done a 360.
He belonged to someone.
He reached Ana’s bedroom and slipped inside. The lamp near her bed glowed softly, casting an arc of light that cut through the dark. His breath caught in his throat when he spied her. She was naked, her pale form glowing eerily as she stood beside several large canvases along the wall.
“I paint,” she murmured, affording him a side profile as she turned slightly. “My father taught Jean-Charles and me.” A long, shuddering breath escaped her. “So long ago.”
Declan could not take his eyes from her.
“He was . . .”
He felt her pain. It punched him in the gut and yet he found himself baring his teeth, jealous at the thought of the mysterious Jean-Charles. “Who was he?” The question slipped from his lips before he could stop himself, and he grimaced. Christ, Ransome was right. The woman had him in knots.
A soft smile tugged at her mouth and she turned fully. Her face was half hidden in shadow, but the red of her lips burned through the gloom and he focused on them as she ran her tongue along the bottom.
“He was my twin brother.” She took a step forward, her eyes shimmering like liquid glass. “My best friend, and for nearly two hundred and fifty years my constant companion.”
Declan unclenched his hands and strode forward until he was able touch the softness of her cheek.
“Where is he?” He thought of the crypt with Jean-Charles’s name inscribed and felt like an ass for asking the question.
Ana leaned into him, her head resting against his chest, and his arms slipped around her to hold her tight. She whispered so lightly he barely heard her reply. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him in nearly sixty years.”
Declan was torn. He figured something pretty bad had happened to separate her from a brother she clearly loved. Should he pursue it or leave well enough alone?