Bitter Vows (Crimson Falls 1)

A gasp of surprise expels from my lungs at his salacious taunt, but I can’t deny it, so instead of answering, I sip my drink. With our glasses in hand, we greet a few guests. Some I recognize as celebrities or famous politicians. Others are strangers to me. But it seems Lycan knows a lot more people here than I thought he would.

When the dinner bell rings, we move to the long table that’s been set with the most expensive china and the shiniest cutlery. I slip into a seat near the far end of the table from where my grandmother sits, and Lycan settles in beside me.

The staff brings out plates of steaming food, but I can’t concentrate when a looming figure slips into the chair to my right. Beside me, Lycan stills, his body turning rigid, and his knuckles turn white as he grips his knife so tight I’m half expecting it to shatter.

“What are you doing here?” His voice is laced with poison as if his words could kill the man beside me. When I turn my head, glancing up at the intruder, I’m shocked to see hazel eyes looking back at me.

“Brother,” the man says, and that’s when it hits me. This is Lycan’s brother. The man who chased me through the woods, scaring me into his brother’s arms, sealing my fate without knowing it. “I don’t think you want to cause a scene,” he says, glancing past me toward Lycan. “But I wanted to say hello to your pretty new fiancée.”

“It’s best that you walk out before I kill you.”

“Always with the theatrics.” A chuckle vibrates in his throat. With everyone’s focus on dinner, nobody has noticed the interaction at this end of the table. But when I glance to my left, I find my grandmother watching intently, her knife and fork poised, waiting for a war I’m sure will soon be here.

“Darius.” The name is a warning, causing my gaze to land back on Lycan. “If you even dare touch her, I will end you.” There is no humor in his tone, and I don’t doubt he’s capable of killing someone. Something about his demeanor tells me he’s done it before. And that sends an icy shrill of dread racing through me.

“Let’s enjoy dinner,” Darius says. “I’ll be leaving shortly after. Also, I wanted to tell you face-to-face, call your bloodhounds off me, or I will end them one by one.”

I feel like I’m watching a tennis match. Left to right, the threats are thrown, and I wonder who will give in first. I doubt it will be Lycan. He’s a man who gets what he wants, and no doubt he will spill blood to do it.

“If I weren’t convinced you are a threat, I would,” Lycan responds before gulping down his drink and signaling for another. I take my own glass and swallow back the wine. I’m caught between feuding brothers.

A dangerous place to be.

26

Lycan

He’s so close, yet so far.

If I did anything to him now, I’ll fuck up my chances of business with every man in this room. As much as they may be corrupt, they won’t allow first-hand violence into their lives.

And Darius knows it.

But what bothers me more is that he’s seated beside Scarlett. Jealousy surges through me, along with rage and the need to kill. My brother was nothing more than a two-faced bastard who ran before he even realized what had happened to our father.

His beard is longer than I remember, his eyes darker, filled with what I can only imagine are more sinister intentions. He glances at Scarlett, interest sparking in his gaze, and I wonder what he’s really doing here.

He’s not a fan of the Bardots either. Since we were little, we knew about the old woman who lived next door, but when we learned about her connection with our father, something in us changed. We knew we would never be close to the family.

And I’m sure now that I’m marrying Scarlett, Darius is fuming. As dinner is served, Scarlett’s hand finds my thigh, causing me to clank my knife and fork against the fine china plate, ensuring every pair of eyes are on me.

Once the conversation starts up again, I glance at my girl, whose eyes are wide as she regards me. She leans in close, her lips inches from my ear, which doesn’t help my need for her. “I think perhaps we should leave early,” she tells me with a soft kiss to my earlobe, and my zipper is suddenly much tighter than it was moments ago.

“If you keep that up, you’re going to have trouble on your hands,” I tell her.

A soft giggle falls from her lips, and I want to steal every whimper she makes. But right now, we need to behave. There are people here I need to impress. Most times, I don’t give a shit about who’s watching; other times, I quite like an audience, but for now, I know Scarlett’s reputation means more than me getting my rocks off.