Chapter Thirty-One
Calliope’s return to Brighton had been a whirlwind of dazedness, kisses, and untimely interruptions by Reaper.
So much had happened that she could scarcely wrap her mind around it all.
Prince had found the tavern in her absence, and Holly, her husband, and Violet had also sought Maxen out since her kidnapping had been witnessed.
Due to being away on business, Mr. Fitz never received any news until the day Maxen, his brothers, and the Earl of Dare showed up on his doorstep.
Mr. Rollings was apparently alive and well. Retired.
And Mr. Peregrine was Maxen’s half-brother!
And his uncle had ordered her death simply in an attempt to bring Maxen to his knees. Perhaps that would have been more shocking if she didn’t have an evil stepmother. However, the threat of his uncle still loomed over them.
If that did not mean she’d been well and truly claimed by Brighton’s underworld, nothing would.
She could scarcely believe she was back in her shop, and this time with no fear of being dragged off to her old house. That chapter had closed. Nothing else had changed here either. Well, except for one glaringly obvious thing: Maxen Fury had moved into her lodgings.
Speaking of the man . . .
She padded upstairs, Prince faithfully at her heels. “You and I, Prince,” she murmured, “we have come a long way, haven’t we?” He wagged his tail. “We are not alone anymore.”
She was, however, alone at the moment. The rooms were quiet, and Maxen was nowhere in sight.
Her gaze fell on an unassuming little chest set neatly beside the bed. Curious, she crossed the room, lifted the lid, and gasped.
Sun and stars!
Her slippers lay nestled inside, the very ones she had all but forgotten in the chaos of events. So Maxen had found the other one that day she’d left. He hadn’t said a word. Her heart filled with inexplicable sentiment.
He had kept them. As though they were some cherished relic.
“Stars,” she breathed, stroking them. “You ridiculous, impossible man. Who keeps slippers?” she whispered to Prince. “And how am I supposed to resist that?”
She fell even more in love with the man.
Beside them rested a dagger. She traced a finger over it before moving to the final item. A ribbon, worn and faded. She touched it lightly, then lifted it from the box.
“It was my mother’s,” a voice said behind her.
She started, turning to find Maxen leaning against the doorframe.
“I killed her.”
The words should have chilled the air, and Calliope blinked, but she had learned enough of this man to know there was far more to that admission than those three, terrible words.
“Why?” she whispered.
“She was in pain. Beaten near to death by my father, the late Duke of Crane. The doctor said a bone had punctured her lungs, and there was nothing to be done.”
Her heart twisted. “You ended her suffering.”
“Some would not see it that way.”
“I am not some.” Her gaze dropped to his hands, still gloved. “Is that why you keep your hands covered?”
“They have her death on them.”
“They have mercy on them,” she countered. She placed the ribbon back inside. “You are a good man.”
He arched a brow. “As good as a monster can be?”
“If you’re a monster, then I’m the daft girl who keeps wandering into your lair.”
His mouth twitched. “Not daft. Brave.”
“Brave enough to love a monster? Does that make me one, then? I don’t believe that. You’re not a monster, Maxen. A beast perhaps. My beast. My Beast in Brighton.”
He pushed back from the door, and with slow, deliberate steps, he closed the distance between them until nothing remained between them but clothes.
He kissed her, softly at first, testing, then deeper, his fingers weaving in her hair as if it were their most beloved place. He pulled away slightly. “I love you.”
Stars, the man knew how to stun a woman senseless! “I love you, too.”
“You can’t just say it,” he pressed, eyes burrowing into hers. “I’m not a man who lets things go. I can’t bear to lose you.”
“Fortunately, I’m not a thing. And you won’t lose me. Ever.”
His smile was slow in coming. But when it came, it stole her breath.
And her knees.
And her sanity.
Maxen reached out, brushing his knuckles against her cheek. “You’ve no idea how dangerous you are to me.”
“Likewise.” She suddenly chuckled. “So, I belong to myself, heh? You don’t own me?” She wouldn’t mind being owned every second by this man.
He nodded. “I don’t own you, love, but you very much own me.”
“Such a silver tongue! Kiss me again, this time . . .” she grinned, “just a little longer.”
He kissed her again, and while this was certainly not the first time, he’d never kissed her with the whole of himself pressed into the space between them like their souls were merging, never with every vow he’d never dared speak sliding from his mouth to hers.
He picked her up and carried her to bed.
A laugh tumbled from her throat. “It is broad daylight, Maxen! Entirely scandalous.”
He laid her down, covering her with his body. “I’ve found myself rather partial to daylight recently.”
Heat rushed to her cheeks, though her heart throbbed sweetly. Once, she had loathed darkness. Now—even in the blaze of noon—she felt safe in the shadows he cast. She realized something she had never thought possible.
Calliope loved the night.
*
Maxen stood with his palms braced upon the counter in Calliope’s shop, sleeves rolled, jaw unshaven, some candles lit to give some light. casting enough light over his brothers who gathered around, every single one of them restless. Upstairs, Calliope was sleeping, Prince had joined him downstairs.
“Only you would simply move in with a woman in such a fashion, frère,” Reaper said.
“She didn’t want to leave the shop,” Maxen said simply.
“You good?” Drake asked.
“I have never felt alive in my own life,” Maxen said. A part of him had awakened from the dead. “Until her.” So yes, he was good. More than good.
“She ours to protect now, frère, which brings us to the matter of business for the night. Do we ship him off?”
Him as in Peregrine.
Their newfound brother.
“Far.” Serpent said with a scowl. “Anywhere with a great deal of water between him and us.”
“No,” Maxen said. That arse had been right. He’d said they could never win against him because he was family. He was right. He’d never harm a brother. Had he found his brother before their uncle had, things might be different. “He’s family, whether we like it or not.”
Drake’s lip curled. “I don’t like it.”
All his brothers concurred.
“He kidnapped your woman,” Knight said.
“Don’t bloody remind me.” Maxen scowled. “And he got his arse beaten for it.”
“What is he actually after? Blood? Or revenge?” Dagger asked.
“Perhaps family,” Saint suggested.
That was Maxen’s guess, too.
“Lovely,” Reaper drawled. “Let’s knit him a blanket and send him on his way.”
The memory of Deveraux Peregrine’s smile didn’t sit well with him. “We can’t let him out of our sight.”
“So we keep him with us,” Drake concluded.
“It could be a trap,” Knight said. “To integrate into our family and ruin us from the inside.”
Dagger tapped the counter. “Savage.”
“Trap or not,” Serpent said, “we are fools if we forget the spider who spun it.”
“Sirius Faiththorne,” Saint announced the name no one wished to utter, and the name went through them like a cold draft.
Drake’s jaw ticked, the only sign of the fury.
Reaper’s usually upturned lips turned down.
Serpent muttered, “Poison wears his face.”
Knight’s voice was blunt: “He should’ve stayed gone.”
Dagger scowled.
So did Maxen. They could no longer deny his existence. “He’ll want revenge for us shipping him off.”
“He’ll want revenge for many things,” Drake muttered.
“He’ll want Brighton,” Knight said.
Dagger nodded. “Every coin we took from him.”
Reaper flicked a coin between his fingers. “He’ll want her, frère. More than anything now that our newfound brother betrayed him.”
Maxen felt old and new fury resurface. But beneath it something else lurked. Shame. Bitterness. They’d all been fools once. “He took from all of us, but he won’t again.”
“The shop might not be safe,” Drake pointed out.
“We tighten the ship,” Maxen said. “Ship as in Brighton. We clear it of any rats not loyal.”
“Can’t find them all,” Knight pointed out.
“Then we make better examples of the ones we do find,” Maxen said darkly.
Reaper clicked his tongue. “And we cut all his little ties one by one.”
“We cannot cut what we cannot see,” Serpent said.
“Then we smoke him out,” Dagger offered. “Spiders hate smoke.”
“That’s hornets,” Saint said.
“Peregrine might be useful in that regard,” Drake said. “He should know Sirius better than us, at least.”
Maxen nodded. “We can put it to a vote when he proves himself. Agreed?”
Everyone nodded.
Reaper sighed extravagantly. “We’re having a very principled night. Fine. I will abstain. I shall not pull all his teeth.”
“Your restraint humbles us,” Dagger said dryly.
Reaper grinned. “Doesn’t it just?”
“Uncle has ears everywhere,” Serpent said. “He’ll know if Peregrine has turned.”
“Then let him bloody know,” Maxen said. “If he’s willing to harm Calliope, I won’t be polite with him anymore. God help him or anyone who tries to touch her again. I will end them. Not words. Not threats. An end.”
“I like the sound of that,” Reaper said with a grin.
Maxen nodded. “Then let the hunt begin.”