She peeked up over the windowsill again.
Ryder heaved away from the mantelpiece. He was frowning. She bet he hurt. They both should, after the punishment they’d been meting out. He lifted his chin and stared at his brother. “Didn’t you ever wonder about Debbie coming to that Halloween ball? Neither of us knew her. Dad invited her.”
“She was the daughter of Dad’s business associate,” Hunter shrugged. “So what?”
“We are so different, you and I. Didn’t you ever wonder how we could fall in love with the same woman?”
“She was Debbie. She was … amazing.”
“I know, but she was amazing to you, and amazing to me.” Ryder shook his head. “We couldn’t even agree on the same radio station in the car, Hunter.” He pressed his finger to his temple. “Think about it.”
“You both fell in love with the same woman. It happens.” Arthur Armstrong grimaced. “I wish it hadn’t. She drove such a wedge between you both, and despite all my efforts, I still can’t get you to forgive and move on.”
Ryder didn’t acknowledge his father’s comment. “We fell in love with the same woman because Dad wanted us to.” Ryder clenched his fists. From what Vassi could see, the tension in his arms, his shoulders, his lips, Ryder looked like he wanted to beat some sense into his brother.
Hunter shook his head. “Oh, Ryder. You really have lost the plot, haven’t you?”
Arthur made a noise of disbelief.
“Stop it,” Ryder snapped, his gaze darting between brother and father. “For once in your life, try to get an original thought in your head that hasn’t been planted by Dad.”
Hunter smiled nastily. “Fine then. Dad introduced both of us to the same woman, probably hoping one of us would at least get her.” Hunter stopped smiling. “And then one of us did.” He stepped closer. “Dad can’t compel us, Ryder. He didn’t make us both fall in love with her.”
Ryder clasped his hands together and touched his nose. “No. No, he didn’t compel us.” He lowered his hands, meeting his brother’s gaze. “He compelled Debbie.”
Hunter froze, his eyes searching Ryder’s face. “What?”
“Ryder, that’s ridiculous,” Arthur admonished as he stepped closer.
“When she was dying, Hunter, she said something to me …” Ryder swallowed. “She told me it wasn’t real. None of it was real.”
Hunter ran his hand through his dark hair, his expression dark with pain, with confusion. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Perhaps she was talking about her love? I will admit, I didn’t like the woman. I didn’t like the way she manipulated you two.” Arthur folded an arm across his chest and braced an elbow on it, then rubbed his chin. “I never understood how one woman could love two men at the same time.”
Vassi grimaced. His father sounded caring and disappointed, yet still managed to turn the knife in both sons with his observation.
Ryder folded his arms. “She was my perfect woman, Hunter.”
Hunter’s jaw flexed. “She was mine, too.”
God this was painful to hear. Vassi blinked and looked away. This undying love for another woman, this worship … she hated listening to it, but couldn’t drag herself away from the moment. She glanced back inside the room.
“Exactly,” Ryder said, almost triumphant. Vassi’s brow wrinkled in confusion as he cocked his head to the side, his blue eyes so pale in the muted light of the fireplace. “She was precisely what each of us wanted in a woman—but we don’t want the same thing, do we Hunter? She was different with me than when she was with you.”
“Of course she was,” Arthur said with a sigh. “She was using you both.”
“No.” Hunter shook his head and backed away. “No. She came to see me that morning.”
Ryder clasped the mantelpiece. “What? You never told me this.”
Hunter smiled, but there was no humour, no softness in the movement. “She was dead, what was the point?”
“Why did she come see you?” Ryder asked. Vassi held her breath, as interested in Hunter’s response as Ryder seemed.
“She came to tell me she’d made a mistake,” Hunter said quietly. “She said she’d chosen the wrong brother.”
Ryder frowned. “That’s—it doesn’t make sense.”
Hunter scowled. “What? That perhaps someone would actually choose me over you?” Hunter’s lips twisted. “Do you find it so difficult to believe someone actually loved me? You were Dad’s favourite son. Mother’s too. Debbie loved me. She was going to leave you, for me.”
“Hunter, that’s not true,” Arthur said, frowning. “You know I have no favourites.”
Hunter turned on his father. “Really, Dad? Still? Ryder can walk away from you, from the family, from everything we’ve worked so hard to build, while I stand by you, I work with you, I’m still here—and you don’t have any favourites?” Hunter shook his head in disgust. “Your own son abuses his girlfriend, and yet, I’m still so much lower on the totem pole.”
Ryder shook his head, his disbelief obvious, and Hunter struck out in anger, sending a vase flying across the room to smash against the wall. Vassi flinched at the violence. “She was afraid of you,” Hunter bellowed.
Ryder’s eyes widened. “No. I loved her. I would never do anything to hurt her. She knew that.”
“It happened so long ago, we should move past this,” Arthur said, extending his arms out in each direction to his sons. Neither paid him any attention.
“She was afraid of you, and she was leaving you. And then she wound up dead on the driveway,” Hunter thundered, his arm gesturing toward the front of the house.
“Because you put her there,” Ryder yelled, jabbing his brother in the chest with a finger.
Hunter stepped back, his expression an almost comical mixture of shock, disbelief, then rage. “You did, brother,” he yelled back, and hurled a blast of power at his brother. Vassi cried out as Ryder was flung into the fireplace. She moved toward the window, but still met the invisible force that prevented her from running to her lover’s side. She bunched her fist and hit the shield in frustration, a tear rolling down her cheek as she continued to watch. This was hell.
Ryder recoiled as flames licked at his clothes. Gritting his teeth, he marshalled the flames, calling to the heat, to the light, drawing them into his palm until he balanced a flaming orb in his hand.
“Boys,” Arthur said in low warning.
“I’m not walking away anymore, brother,” Ryder snarled, emphasising the last word. “You need to face what you’ve done.” He thrust the orb toward his brother, watching it envelop him. Hunter extinguished the flames, and Ryder took advantage of his distraction by running up and punching him in the face.
Hunter stumbled back, catching himself against the bookcase, then launched himself, grabbing Ryder around the chest and bringing him down. Ryder rolled, jabbing his brother in the jaw, blocking Hunter’s attempt to grab his throat.
“You killed her,” Ryder rasped as he straddled his brother.
Hunter’s fist connected with his cheek, and Ryder fell to the side. Hunter rolled over him and grabbed his shirt, pulling his head off the floor. “I. Did. Not. Kill. Debbie.” He stated, then punched him in the mouth. “You did.”
Ryder coughed, tasting blood. He grabbed his brother’s head and pressed his thumbs into his eye sockets, and Hunter roared as he jerked back. Ryder followed him over, his hands sliding in to pull at his brother’s short hair. “I didn’t.”
Hunter glared. “You were home,” he muttered.
“So were you,” Ryder growled.
They froze there for a moment. Hunter frowned. “You didn’t push her?”
Ryder’s eyebrows dipped. “No. I thought you did.”
Hunter shook his head, as much as Ryder would allow the movement. “No.”
Ryder held up his finger in warning. “I swear, if you’re lying to me …”
“I’m not. I didn’t kill her, I thought you did.”
Hunter jackknifed to his feet, his expression shocked. Ryder was slower, his gaze wary.
“You were here, too.”
Chapter Eighteen
Ryder tried to hide the shock washing over him. He’d learned never to reveal his true emotions to his father, but … holy shit.
“Why?” Hunter rasped.
Arthur inclined his head toward Ryder. “Well, your brother started to piece it all together—of course, he was always a little quicker than you.”
“What did you do?” Hunter growled, taking a step closer to the older man.
“Please. I merely gave you purpose.”
Ryder’s eyes narrowed in disbelief, in anger. “Purpose?”
Arthur nodded as he approached the fireplace, stretching his hands out as though to warm himself. “Of course. You boys have had it so easy,” he murmured. “You have no idea what we light warriors have had to endure.”
He turned to face them. “We were once a warrior race,” he said, holding his hands out. “Now we’re healers?” His expression showed his contempt. “Please. We should be the ruling class, here. We are stronger than all those miscreants,” he sneered. “And yet we hide ourselves by making nice.”
Hunter rolled his eyes. “Yes, Dad, we know. You miss those good old days.” He lowered his head to glare at the man. “What does that have to do with us,” he said, gesturing between Ryder and himself, “and Debbie?”
Arthur’s lips lifted in a benevolent smile. “I’ve tried to teach you everything I know—and yet you’re both content to just live your lives as dentists,” he said scornfully. “I’ve built an empire, and you two are completely oblivious to your potential.”
Ryder shook his head. “No, Dad. No we’re not oblivious. We just didn’t care.” He stepped closer to his father, despite the fact that being this close to the man who sired him made his skin crawl. “Do you think I don’t know what you’re doing in that clinic of yours?” He shot his brother a glare. “What you’re both doing?”
“At least Hunter shows ambition, Ryder. You—you were always so easygoing, so unassuming. You lacked drive, you lacked action. I gave you that with Debbie.”
Hunter lifted a hand, a soft laugh of disbelief as he turned to Ryder. “Is he—” his jaw dropped, and he turned to the old man, “are you for real?”
“Tell me, son, did you hate your brother when you thought he killed your beloved?” Arthur hissed at Hunter. “Did you wrack your brain to find a way to make him pay? To make him hurt as much as he hurt you?” He turned his attention to Ryder. “And you? You left the family, finally took some action, showed some gumption, damn it.”
Ryder’s eyes widened as he shook his head. “I don’t know you,” he breathed. His own father … “Debbie was a sweet girl, Dad. She didn’t deserve to be treated like a pawn.”
“Debbie was weak. A very malleable young lass—at least, until that last day. If she hadn’t seen a witch about her blackouts …” He sighed. “Damn witches.” He waved a hand casually. “Anyway, it really was no trouble, suggesting she be sweet with you,” Arthur stated, nodding at Ryder, then at Hunter, “and maybe a little spicy with you. You should be thanking me.”
Ryder’s eyebrows rose. “How the hell do you figure that?”
“Debbie was boring before I found her. I made her fun. For both of you.” His father bowed. “You’re welcome.”
“You compelled her,” Ryder said, shaking his head in disgust. He’d suspected, but having those suspicions confirmed made him sick to his stomach. “You manipulated her.”
“What did you call her? The perfect woman? For both of you.” Arthur nodded. “That’s impressive work, if I do say so myself.”
Hunter grabbed a book and threw it at his father. The book burst into a ball of flame and fell in a pile of ash to the floor before it could reach its target. Hunter ran at him, then cried out in pain, his knees buckling, as light arced from his father’s fingers and around his head.
“No!” Ryder, fists clenched, ran at Arthur, only to stumble to a halt as white hot pain lanced through his brain. He clutched his head as he fell to his knees, gritting his teeth as his father’s lightforce wrapped around him. His father was older, stronger, a light warrior prime who practised his dark skills on a daily basis. He tried to put up a mental shield, and his efforts muted the pain, but only slightly. As he writhed on the floor a movement at the window caught his eye. His eyes narrowed to see through the blinding pain, and he thought for a moment he was dreaming, as his father’s lightforce leached into his mind.
Vassi.
Her pale face was pressed to the window, the sheen of tears glistening in the firelight. Her eyes glowed, her expression tight with fear, with horror. His beloved.
“Come … in,” he gasped, biting out the words.
Glass exploded as his half-blood vampire launched into the room, her fangs extended, her hair streaming behind her like a dark cloud of vengeance.
She moved in a blur, and then his father was on the floor, her teeth sinking into his throat.
The pain in Ryder’s head fluttered, then disappeared, as Arthur Armstrong focused his attention on survival. Ryder rose to his feet as his father grabbed Vassi’s arms. Her head reeled back and she screamed in pain as her skin started to burn where his father held her.
“No, damn it,” he breathed, and flew at his dad.
His father moved fast, rolling over Vassi and bringing them both to their feet.
“Stop, or I’ll kill—” his father growled in pain, then slid his hand down to grasp Vassi’s wrist.
She whimpered as her skin sizzled under his touch, and he pulled her talons out from where she’d sunk them into his thigh. He lifted her hand up, and Ryder watched in horror as her talons flared into flame, falling to ash as she screamed in pain.
His brother’s hand slapped on his arm, and Hunter used the grip to pull himself up. Ryder looked at his brother, who nodded. Individually, they couldn’t take on the warrior prime. Together, they might stand a chance. As one, they turned to their father and summoned their lightforce. Arthur shoved Vassi to the floor, and she cried out in agony, nursing her badly burned hand as she tried to roll away.
Arthur smiled at them, the whites of his eyes visible, and he lifted both hands.
Sparks flew as each man threw out his power. Arthur created a wall of flame, an inferno that pushed back against the sons.
Ryder gritted his teeth at the searing heat. His father was older, and much, much more powerful. Sweat built up on his brow and lip as he felt the lightforce stutter under his father’s onslaught. He tried to shore it up, and he knew Hunter was doing the same as they battled their light warrior prime.
Wind picked up in the room, but Ryder ignored it, focusing on pushing his lightforce back against his father. He tried to pierce the wall of flame with his own darts of light, hoping the little pricks of pain would distract his father enough for him and Hunter to vanquish him.
A noise teased at his focus, something that was at first a whisper, then grew into a chant, and finally a roar. Then he felt it. A lessening of force as the brunt of the flames diminished. A dampening spell.
His father frowned, then grimaced as he tried to build the wall up again, but something was pushing at it, something other than Ryder and his brother. It was slow-building and unrelenting, as the wind that had stirred up was suddenly sucked out of the room, his father’s display of power along with it.
Ryder quickly glanced at Vassi lying injured on the floor, and rage rose within him. He doubled his efforts, channelling his lightforce as a blinding rope of lightning that snaked around his father, and he hurled a blast that knocked his father clear off his feet and against the bookcase with such force the whole structure collapsed and their father appeared to be embedded in the plaster, his head cracking against the wall with a loud thunk. Arthur hung there, unco
nscious, until Ryder drew in his talent. He didn’t bother to watch his father fall to the floor, his attention on the woman who’d saved him.
“Nice work. Who the hell is that?” Hunter asked, frowning. “And what just happened?”
“She’s a vamp. And she’s my lawyer.” She was so much more than that, but he wasn’t about to explain that to his brother, not yet. There were still some things that needed to be cleared up, namely Jared Gray’s murder. He decided not to mention the witches he was sure had accompanied Vassi.
“She’s cute.”
“She’s mine.”
Hunter held up his hands. “Don’t worry, brother. I learn my lessons.” He rose to his feet, and grimaced as he pulled at his singed shirtfront. “This was my favourite shirt.”
Ryder knelt by her side and gently brushed the dark hair off her face. “Vassi,” he whispered. Her eyes fluttered open, shimmering with tears. “It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s going to be fine.”
“Let me see,” Hunter said brusquely and reached for her hand. Ryder grabbed his brother’s wrist, preventing his brother from touching his mate. Hunter arched an eyebrow. “I won’t hurt her, Ryder. I can help her.” His brother smiled. “I wouldn’t hurt your mate.”
He didn’t kill Debbie. Ryder had to force himself to remember that. It was so hard to let go of all that anger, all that resentment, all that hate. But Hunter was an adept, able to heal across disciplines. If Vassi had injured her fangs, Ryder was the one to help. Unfortunately he wasn’t a surgeon—but Hunter was. He reluctantly let go of his brother. Hunter lifted her hand gently, and Ryder cringed, both at the hiss of her breath, and the damage he could see to her fingers. “She injured one of them before,” he said quietly. When she’d had to defend herself against the werewolves. Despair swept through him. He’d caused her so much trouble, so much damn pain.
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