Their hands shoot out to prevent the doors from closing, their expressions suddenly all business. Connor narrows his eyes at me. “You know damn well we don’t go anywhere until you’re back at Midnight Manor.”
I give them an admonishing look. “I also know it’s been too long since you’ve been on a run, and if you put it off any longer, you’ll be no good to me at all. And don’t tell me you’re fine because I can see that you’re not.”
Connor swears under his breath while Conall drags a hand over his face in frustration.
Beyond our usual preternatural abilities, some fae are blessed with rare special powers unique to their bloodline. Things like the gift of foresight, healing others, manipulating nature’s energies, sensing approaching danger, and more.
The members of the Woulfe bloodline are shapeshifters. More specifically—and not surprisingly—wolf shifters. They can communicate telepathically with wolves out in the wild and shift their forms at will. The animal is as much a part of them as being fae, and if they ignore it for too long, it takes its toll physically.
I noticed it this morning when we left the manor. Their muscles are bunched with tension and their golden eyes—the color all Dark Fae possess—have grown dull.
“All right,” Connor says, relenting. “I’ll call in for replacements.”
I shake my head. “Not necessary. I’ll be working late, so I’m just going to crash in the penthouse.”
The brothers do that annoying twin thing where they share a conversation with each other using only a look. It’s Conall who voices it aloud. “Working late again, CV? You might want to consider fetching that pretty admirer of yours and going on a run of your own.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively like I need help catching on to his juvenile euphemism.
“Yeah, you’re crabbier than usual lately,” Connor adds unhelpfully.
“Duly noted and now dismissed. Just like the both of you are.” When they don’t make a move to leave, I arch a brow and deadpan, “Seriously, I’ve had more than enough of your ugly mugs for one day, so kindly fuck off before I lose what’s left of my sunny disposition.”
They snort at that, but it gets them to finally lower their arms from the sides of the elevator. Aiming identical dimpled smiles at me, Connor offers a sarcastic, “Have a good night, Your Majesty.” Then Conall gives me a double-middle-finger salute just before the doors close.
“Assholes.” My mouth tips into an amused half grin as I cross the empty reception area.
I can already taste my favorite Irish whiskey and feel the knots in my shoulders loosening. I quickly punch in the code to my office and enter the quiet—
“There he is!” Tiernan’s shouted greeting hits me from where he and our baby brother—if you can consider someone a baby at 116—are arm wrestling on the coffee table in my sitting area furnished with a leather armchair and couch.
So much for peace and fucking quiet. I release a heavy breath and shut the door, resigned to the fact that I won’t be decompressing as originally planned anytime soon.
My brothers rarely drop by unannounced, which means they’re here for a reason.
Might as well join them until they spit it out.
But first, a drink.
I bypass the large desk and ignore my laptop with the inbox of nagging emails, heading for the bar on the far side of the room.
Finnian greets me with his wide grin and smiling amber eyes that say he’s happy to see me. It’s one of the few things in this world that tugs at my black heart. Sometimes it’s hard for me to see him as a grown male instead of the baby-faced youngster who stuck to me more than my own shadow.
He’s wearing his usual uniform of T-shirt and jogger pants with athletic shoes, and his dark hair is mussed on top like he just rolled out of bed even though I know he didn’t. The only one of us who isn’t a night owl, Finn wakes at dawn and clocks several hours in the gym. Then he spends the afternoons training in various fighting styles with the Night Watch. He doesn’t have a head for business like me or have Tiernan’s effortless charm that works on our business partners as much as it does his lovers. But like Tier says, if the zombie apocalypse ever happens, Finnian will be the one to lead an army against the undead and save us all.
Finn must be done messing with our brother because Tiernan’s grin is quickly devolving into an ugly grimace. As I pass behind where he’s sitting on the couch, I give him a smack to his head. “You look constipated.”
“Yeah, well, you look—” The sound of fists slamming onto the table signals the end of the match. I don’t even have to ask who won. “Damn it! Caiden distracted me. That one doesn’t count.”
Finn laughs. “I suppose the other several hundred wins don’t count, either.”
I’m about to side with Finn when I notice the designer case for The Devil’s Keep—one of the most expensive single malt Irish whiskeys in the world—sitting open on top of the bar. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Turning back, I see the bottle on one of the side tables. Half empty. “Hey, assholes, that’s a twelve-thousand-dollar bottle of whiskey you’re drinking like it’s water over there.”
They keep straight faces, but mischief dances in their eyes. “Ah,” Finn says to Tiernan, “now we know why it tastes so good.”
“I believe you’re right, little brother. Another?”
“Don’t mind if I do, big brother.” Finn chuckles and holds his glass out for Tier to refill.
Deciding I’ll plot their untimely deaths later, I grab my own glass and stalk over to them. I swipe the bottle out of Tier’s hand and sit on the other side of the couch from him before pouring myself three fingers and setting it where they can’t reach it. I take a generous sip of the liquid gold and revel in the smooth fire as it slides down my throat.
Fuck, this is good. I’m glad I have another bottle stashed away at the manor.
Finn relaxes his huge frame into the chair and aims a playful smirk at Tiernan. “I’m impressed, T. Have you been working out more? You almost had me there for a second.”
Tiernan’s eyebrows shoot toward his hairline. “I did?”
“Fuck no, not even close.” Finn chuckles, then blocks the couch pillow Tier chucks at his face.
“One of these days, I’m gonna beat your smug ass.”
“You know what the definition of insanity is, right, Tier?” I let a slight grin tug on one corner of my mouth. “Might want to keep that in mind the next time Finni issues you a challenge.”
Finnian might be a lot younger than Tier and me, who are both in our one-sixties, but the kid is a natural beast. At six foot seven and gods only know what on the scale, he’s the biggest of the three of us.