"I can't believe I got ditched for food this time," she grumbled.

"Got to keep my strength up," he teased.

"You're mean."

"Poor, moonbeam. Do you need me to kiss it better?"

"Yes."

"Later. If this mission succeeds." A false hope for them both because, even if he saved his sister, the truth remained: I am still a Mercer.

"You are being awfully close-minded," she remarked in between bites.

"I am learning how to control my thoughts. Could come in handy tonight."

"I already told you, it's our special bond that allows me to read you."

"Which I don't understand. How is it we're linked when you've not yet claimed me?" Apparently, the bond fully formed once they exchanged bites. A primitive method but it didn't surprise him. The exchange of rings and other trinkets derived from human tradition.

She shrugged. "I don't know why you and I are already connected. Perhaps it's fate. I've heard of it happening with some mated couples, but not often. No one knows why it happens with some pairings and not others. I have something similar with my twin, although we can't talk as clearly. With others in my family Sept, I can sense strong emotions if I'm close enough, but with you...it's like we are joined."

"It's freaky." On the one hand, he enjoyed the connection between them. He felt what she did when she let her guard down. An incredible experience when she sucked him, but outside of sex...he couldn't hide. And I have so much darkness I don't want her to see.

"Afraid I'll know all your secrets?" she teased.

"You already do." Except for the one he kept trying to deny: I think I'm in love with her.

The very idea terrified him. He loved his family, and it had gotten used against him. He couldn't protect them. Hell, he couldn't even manage to save himself.

Loving Aimi scared the fuck out of him because it meant he had to do anything he could to keep her safe, even if it meant sacrificing himself.

That was why he locked down his thoughts, why he wouldn't let her in because, if she knew what he planned, she'd probably rip his dick off.

Her eyes drooped. Blinked. Her head bobbed. Her gaze narrowed. "Whha-t did you do to me?" she slurred.

"Protecting my treasure."

"Assh-" She slumped forward, and he caught her before she face planted.

He rubbed his face in her hair and whispered, "I'm sorry. But I have to do this alone." He carried her to the bedroom and stretched her onto the bed.

She looked so peaceful in her sleep. But boy, would she be pissed when she woke. He planned to be far away when the drugs wore off, and she roused spitting mad. He only hoped she'd stay asleep until after he'd rescued his sister or, knowing her as he already did, she'd arrive, ready to eviscerate him.

The clothing she'd ordered arrived within minutes of him tucking her in. The bellhop, a young fellow who stuttered a thank you when Brand slipped him a twenty, laid two garment bags on the sofa. The hotel employee also delivered two boxes of shoes and a bag with a certain famous brand of undergarments on the outside. Nothing but the best for his moonbeam.

Everything fit to perfection, even the underwear. He couldn't help but dangle the scrap she'd ordered for herself, a lacy little thong that he crushed in his fist for a moment. How he would have loved to peel the panties from her.

Don't get distracted. He dropped the lacy item and finished getting ready. He'd no sooner dressed in the tuxedo-a first for him as he'd skipped high school prom thinking it lame-than the phone in the room rang to let him know that his ride had arrived.

Performing one last check to make sure he looked presentable, he grimaced in the mirror, not recognizing himself and not just because he wore his human face-albeit older and leaner than he recalled-but because he couldn't help but see himself differently: taller, straighter, more confident than he recalled.

He blamed Aimi. She'd taken a man broken and almost ready to give up and seen something in him, something that flourished in her presence.

It's called pride. No longer was he reacting and allowing someone to control him. Brandon was his own man-in a fucking tuxedo, replete with cummerbund and shoes. Aimi had certainly been busy while he showered. He planned to be busier while she napped.

Before he could leave, he checked on her one last time, retucking the covers around her and ensuring a pillow cradled her head. He even brushed a soft kiss on her lips. She didn't react. He felt nothing through their link, her drugged sleep rendering it inert.

"Goodbye, moonbeam." When next she woke, he'd be out of her life.

He didn't look back as he left. Couldn't or he might change his mind.

When he arrived in the lobby, the desk clerk pointed to the car out front that had arrived to drive him to the party. Except it wasn't a regular car. Nope, not for his moonbeam. She'd ordered a bloody limo with a driver and everything.

Sigh. He was so out of his element with her. Upon exiting the hotel, a driver-dressed in a black suit replete with hat-tipped his head and held open the passenger door at the back. He tried refusing. Apparently, that wasn't an option.

"Company policies, sir," the driver stated. "All clients are to sit in the back."

With no choice, the imposter in his new outfit sat in the backseat of a limo feeling utterly out of his element.

Nothing wrong with dressing nice. Nice involved clean jeans and a button-down shirt. This tuxedo thing constricted and choked.

The driver knew where to go apparently, and so Brand got to sit back and wait to be delivered to the devil. It gave him time to ponder his course of action. His current plan involved showing up at the front door and brazening his way in.

Who's got the biggest balls now, Uncle?

Brash pride shouldn't take the place of intelligence, though. Should he have opted for subterfuge? He could have. He had a location. Brandon could arrive in stealth, and possibly exit the same way.

Then again, why should he hide anymore? After everything his uncle had done, wasn't it Brandon's turn to be in the sunlight? No longer did Brandon have to conceal himself. He wasn't a monster-on the outside. Inside, he seethed with cold rage and a hunger for vengeance.

Crunch his bones. Grind him down.

Let his uncle try and play his games face-to-face with Brandon. He'd take care of him. However, Aimi and her family made good points when they claimed a public event such as this would have Uncle Theo on his best behavior. The public would be watching, and as usual in today's age of intrusive media, they would judge. If Brand showed himself, his uncle could do nothing to stop him, not without causing questions.

There is nothing stopping me from getting to see and talk to my sister. Should they choose to leave together, what could Uncle Theo do? Nothing without causing a scene.

Speaking of a scene, Brand just about screamed like a girl when, at a stoplight, the passenger door opened, and a silver-haired dervish sat down. The car lurched into motion as he gaped. Finally, he managed to say, "Aunt Waida?" Who else would wear a ball gown of bright fuchsia hung with tassels?

"It's me, in the flesh, boy. Don't look so surprised. You didn't seriously think we'd let you walk into the den of that wolf alone, did you?"

"Why wouldn't you? I'm not family."

Whack. The cuff barely rocked him, and Waida tsked. "You're with my niece. That makes you family by proxy."

"I'm not with her."

That earned him another cuff. "Idiot. Lucky for you, I've got something that might cure your affliction."

"What affliction?"

"The one making you stupid. I know what you did and have to say I have a new admiration for your balls, and not just because they're brave." She eyed him in a way that made him want to wear more layers of clothes. "You are a rather interesting fellow. A pity you won't live long. Drugging my niece." The aunt chuckled. "She'll make you pay for that."

"I did it to protect her."

"She won't see it that way."

He already expected Aimi to get mad. That didn't stop him from doing what he had to. "What are you doing here?"

"I left not long after meeting you. My psychic-"

"You take advice from a psychic?" The disdain might have dripped a little.

"Say it like that again and you'll see why I'm not the nice sister."

"You mean there's a nice one of you?" He wasn't being completely sarcastic.

"Ungrateful, and after all the work I went to. Who do you think made the arrangements for the limo and whatnot? Can't trust those who aren't family these days. Always doing things with ulterior motives."

"And what's your motive?"

"The glory of the family, of course. A little fun, maybe some mayhem, that's good, too. Although I'll deny it if Zahra asks."

The flippant answer irritated. "This isn't a game."

"Everything in life is a game. Best you learn that now. Especially since you're one of the pieces."

"Nice to know I have a use as a peon."

"Stop disparaging yourself. It's annoying. By now, even with your dense skull, you should realize that you are an important player, or are you going to continue denying the events that keep unfolding around you?"

"I didn't ask for any of this to happen. I was a victim of science. Nothing more. I'm not a dragon."

Whack. The slap to the side of his head didn't completely capture him by surprise, but bracing for it didn't completely account for the sting.

"What the fuck?"

"Language," snapped the matron aunt. "Where we are going, people will be listening, and they won't offer you any respect or support if you come across as a backwoods hillbilly whinebag with a woe-is-me complex."

"But I am a backwoods hillbilly." As to the rest...whining seemed better than giving in to the rage and rampaging.

Rampaging is more fun. Things sometimes get crunched.

"Manner is as manners does. Wealth has nothing to do with it. Do you really think everyone you will meet tonight came from blue blood? Most of them will be commoners. Beneath me. Beneath you. Throw your shoulders back, hold your chin high, and act as if you are the most important person in the room. Because, if my sister's tests are right, you are."

"And if I'm not?"

"Then fake it, but for bloody sakes, stop moaning about it."

"Or what?" Yes, he'd poked the dragon with a verbal stick on purpose.

Slitted eyes spitting green fire fixed him. "You don't want to know."

The limo stopped for another light, and just as quickly as she'd arrived, Waida slid from the car, only to have another silver-haired woman take her place.

Aimi, smelling delightful and looking even more delicious, took the seat across from him. He blamed the sight of her thigh peeking from her dress through the high slit for not tossing her out and telling the driver to hit the gas.

Alas, he was weak. So weak before her. He groaned. "What are you doing here? I left you safe at the hotel."

"You know there are laws against drugging women."

"I did it to keep you safe."

"No, you did it because you're chivalrous."

Flinched. "Am not."

"Not completely, given you drugged me. Good thing I expected it."

"If you knew, then why eat the food?"

She rolled a bare shoulder-that needed one more thing to make it perfect. A bite mark. His to be more precise.

"I ate it because I was hungry. Also, I needed a nap and, given my aroused state, because someone didn't follow through"-glare-"I needed a little help."

"That doesn't explain how you got here. I left almost an hour ago."

"You did. The limo's been driving around the city streets close to the hotel. Long enough for me to catch a power nap and get ready."

"You mean you planned this all along?"

"With a little help. Aunt Waida wanted to see if anyone would jump the car if it were just you in it. She was most disappointed when nothing happened."

"Maybe they've given up."

"Doubtful. It's more likely they knew of the surveillance and are planning an ambush later on."

"How is it your aunt is here on the advice of a psychic, but no one else is?"

"My mother never puts all her resources into one location. In this case, though, I'll wager Waida acted as an independent. She is a matriarch in her own right, even if her Sept consists only of her husband and her one son."

"But how did she get here? From the sounds of it, she got here before us, but we were on the only flight."

"As if she'd trust a commercial airline. She flew herself."

"She flew as a dragon?" He made sure to hush the words in case the driver listened. The partition separated him from the front, but his paranoia was on full alert. "Isn't that like sacrosanct?"

"She flew as in a twin-engine turboprop. She dislikes traveling any distance by car and says if she can't use her own wings then she'll control the ones she does use."

"Your family is very determined."