Snow still sought his death.
A permanent release from his suffering.
On top of that, he was watching his brother feel again, for a woman, and everyone in the room knew how well that had ended last time.
“He won’t leave you,” Sera said, afraid she was intruding and it would anger Snow, but unwilling to stand by and watch the man that Antoine loved so much believe that he was about to find himself alone again. “I swear to you, Snow. Your brother loves you and he feels guilty about his part in what happened to you and your family. He won’t make the same mistake again. He would sooner leave me than leave you. He loves you.”
“I know.” Snow stood and towered over Antoine, immense and dark, lethal.
He seemed calm but he still radiated power, his formidable build only adding to the sense of danger he wore. She couldn’t imagine how Antoine must have felt when he had battled his own brother and had almost lost. She was surprised he had lasted in a fight at all. Snow had killed their parents and others who were likely far older than he had been at the time. He had overpowered and murdered them all, but he had failed to kill his brother. Even in the darkest grip of his bloodlust, his love for his brother was stronger than his hunger for death and violence.
Snow huffed. “You do not have to fear me, female. Or for Antoine. I will not harm my brother.”
“I have a name.” Sera knelt on the bed, clutched the crimson sheets around her with one hand and shakily held the other out to him. He raised a pale eyebrow at it, as though the gesture was unfamiliar to him, or perhaps he just hadn’t expected her to risk touching him and placing herself at his mercy. “Sera.”
“Snow.” He grasped her hand, his huge one engulfing hers, and the strength of his grip surprised her. She had expected hard and tight, bone-crushing. He was gentle and warm.
Antoine growled.
She looked down at him at the same time as Snow did.
“Hands off my female,” Antoine snarled and launched his foot upwards. It collided hard with their joined ones, knocking them apart and sending Sera crashing backwards. She managed to stop herself from falling off the bed completely and stepped down off the mattress. Her wrist throbbed, deep pulses spiked with sharp stabs, and she clutched it to her chest.
Antoine flipped onto his feet on the bed. Nude. Every muscle coiled in preparation.
“Antoine,” she said and he turned towards her, red-ringed eyes losing their sharp edge as they met hers. She held her hand out to him. Just as Snow had turned docile in the presence of the newly-turned female vampire, Antoine’s rage drained away and he blinked slowly. “I was just introducing myself.”
“What were you doing in here in the first place?” Antoine turned back to Snow and casually stepped down off the bed, as though he hadn’t just come close to unleashing a terrible violence on his brother.
He was an inch or two shorter than Snow, and of lighter build, but Sera knew without a doubt that he would fight his brother if he didn’t like his answer.
“You had a nightmare,” Sera said before Snow could utter a word, bringing Antoine’s focus back to her. It was probably safer that he hear things from her rather than his brother. If she could soothe his dormant darker side, then she had to be the one to explain. That way, Antoine wouldn’t lose the cool that he seemed to have such a tentative grasp on. She could see it in his eyes. The red was gone but she had a feeling it still lingered, hidden behind those calm impassive irises that fixed on her, waiting to make itself known again. She didn’t want it to seize control of him. She wouldn’t let him suffer as his brother did. “I didn’t know what to do. You were fighting me. Snow came in and calmed you for me. That’s all.”
Antoine looked over his shoulder at Snow, and his brother nodded.
“Now, if you do not mind, I have seen enough of your bare arse for one night.” Snow grinned and escorted himself to the door. He paused there and looked back at her. “Be gentle with him, Sera.”
She rolled her eyes. She wasn’t sure which Snow she preferred. The mindless demon or the sharp-tongued man intent on embarrassing both her and Antoine.
He closed the door behind him and her gaze crept back to Antoine. Damn, did he look good stood there all naked and sleep ruffled, pale blue eyes possessively locked on her. She shivered from the feel of them, awareness of him prickling across her skin and heating it, filling her with an intense need to cross the room to him, slide her hand around the nape of his neck, and kiss him. She wanted him again, couldn’t get enough of him.
Would never get enough of him.
“I should go to work.” He didn’t move to hit the shower or get dressed. He continued to stare at her, as though waiting for her to convince him to forget work, just as she had done each night since their first crazy one together.