The accusing gaze and shoulders belonged to Michael Breckenridge, Jr., the oldest of Papa Breck’s sons. He was in his thirties now, but he’d been a football player in his youth, and he hadn’t lost the muscle, or apparently the testosterone. He was the expected heir of Breckenridge Industries and the family fortune, and he evidently had a temper. Papa Breck was going to need to keep an eye on that.
Michael Breckenridge, Jr., I silently told Ethan, using the telepathic connection between us.
Charming, was his reply. He was even sarcastic telepathically.
“Be polite to the guests,” said another voice in the doorway.
The man who stood there was tall and lean, with dark hair that waved over his forehead and a glint in his steely eyes. This was Finley Breckenridge, the second oldest of the Breck boys. There were two others—Nick, the one I’d dated, now a journalist, and Jamie, the youngest.
I guessed Finley and Michael had been in the middle of a disagreement regarding their father’s decision to let us stay.
“Go back inside, Finn,” Michael said. “This doesn’t concern you.”
Finley took another step outside, hands tucked casually into the pockets of his trousers, but his eyes were cool, his body taut, ready for action.
“It concerns the family,” Finley said. “And it concerns Pop, who’s already made his position clear.”
Michael stalked toward us. Being good security, I shifted to block his path to Ethan. He stopped, glared down at me. “Get out of my way.”
His tone was laced with hatred, and the magic that spilled off his body was downright contemptuous. The threat began to speed my blood, but I kept my voice calm. We were guests, after all. Welcome or otherwise.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” I said, forcing a light smile. “It’s good to see you again, Michael.”
His jaw twitched, but he took a step back. “Fine,” he said, lifting his hands in the air like a cornered criminal. “But when they fuck up everything, I won’t hear a word from you.”
He stepped around me and stalked off around the house, leaving the scent of expensive cologne in his wake.
Ethan glanced back at Finley, brow raised.
“Apologies,” Finley said, walking forward with a hand outstretched, ready to play peacemaker. He and Ethan shook hands, both of them obviously appraising the other.
“Finley Breckenridge.”
“Ethan Sullivan.”
“The vampire who made Merit,” Finley said. The statement was a challenge, poorly disguised by curiosity and a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“I initiated the change,” Ethan confirmed. “I saved her from an attack, and I made her immortal. I find she has no complaints.” His tone was mild, his expression unperturbed. If he was irritated by the question, he wasn’t going to let Finley see it.
Finn flicked a glance at me. “It’s good to see you, Merit. If not under these circumstances.”
I nodded, the most I was willing to offer considering the attitudes. “I take it Michael’s not thrilled we’re staying here?”
“Michael and the old man disagree on various things,” Finn said, gaze falling on the point where Michael had disappeared into the darkness. “Including having vampires in residence.”
Their timing impeccable, liveried staff in dark pants and short jackets emerged silently from the house, took our bags and keys, and whisked Moneypenny down the driveway.
How very upstairs/downstairs, Ethan said.
My father would be jealous, I agreed. Although my grandfather had been a cop, my father was obsessed with money. Perhaps not surprisingly, he was very good friends with Papa Breck.
“Where will we be staying?” I asked.
“The carriage house. You got permission from the big man to stay, but he drew the line at your being in the house.” Finn gestured toward the gravel walk, which led around the house to a series of secondary buildings.
Ethan looked unimpressed with our demotion from the main house, which did ring of supernatural pettiness. But we were here because we didn’t have a better option. I thought it was best not to look that particular gift horse (shifter?) in the mouth.
The carriage house was a small brick building, its sides marked by dark green shutters around the windows that had once been doors for cars or carriages. The building was just behind the main house, completely invisible from the road and the driveway. The carriage house might have felt like an insult to Ethan, but it would be a secure location to spend a few quiet nights on the lam.
Finn pushed a key into the lock and opened the door. “Please come in.”
The invitation wasn’t strictly necessary—that particular bit of vampire myth was actually myth—but we preferred not to trespass.
The carriage house had been outfitted like a small apartment, with hardwood floors, colorful furnishings and décor, and a ceiling striped by large oak beams. There was a sitting area and a small kitchenette, and a door that led to what I guessed was a bedroom. The Brecks hadn’t spared any expense on the décor. Books and orchids were arranged just so on a coffee table, knickknacks placed here and there, one wall covered in a mix of line drawings and paintings in gilded frames.
“Pop uses the place for visiting board members,” Finn said, stepping inside and surveying the living room, hands on his hips. “Kitchen’s stocked with blood and food, so you should find everything you need here.”
He pointed to a keypad beside the door. “The entire house is rigged to the security system, which is hooked up to the main house. There’s also an intercom in case you run into trouble.”
I glanced around, didn’t see a back door. “Is this the only door in and out?”
Finn smirked. “Yes. And I see Nick wasn’t kidding—you really are a vampire fighter now.”
“All night long,” I said, gesturing toward the windows. “What about those?”
“Ah.” Finn pressed a button on the keypad. Segmented plates descended across the windows, covering them completely. With those guards in place, we’d be safe from sunlight and marauders.
“Thank you, Finley,” Ethan said. “We appreciate your family’s thoughtfulness.”
“It was Nick’s idea.”
“In that case,” Ethan tightly said, “we appreciate his thoughtfulness. And with all due respect, as we have amply demonstrated, your family has no reason to be hostile toward us.”
Finn’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not hostile toward Merit. I’m hostile toward you. I don’t know you, except that you’ve embroiled her in a world that’s worrying her father and put her grandfather in the hospital.”
The attitude was irritating, as the facts were wrong. My grandfather had been Ombudsman before I’d become a vampire, and I wouldn’t have become a vampire without my father’s meddling. Not that Finley needed the details.
“We all make our own choices,” Ethan said, his smile thin and dangerous.
“So we do. A suggestion?”
Ethan lifted his brows, as Finley slid his glance to the sheathed katanas in our hands.
“You might want to leave the weapons here. They don’t exactly scream ‘friendship.’”
He walked back to me, concern in his eyes. He held out the set of keys, which I took, our fingers brushing. He might have played polite, but he was as angry as Michael. He spilled magic into the air, sending an electric thrill across my fingers.
“Be careful,” he said.
I nodded, not sure what to say.
With that, he opened the door and disappeared into the night.