Page 89 of Allegiant

Just then, a crunching sound fills the air. Both our heads swivel to see Harley leaning against the counter, munching his way through a piece of toast.

“Don’t mind me,” he says around a mouthful. “I’m just enjoying the show.”

I scowl at my brother as I reluctantly remove my hand from Rowan’s ass. I give it one final squeeze before I do, though—a promise to revisit this later. “Why the fuck are you still here?”

He shrugs. “I’m gonna hang with Rowan and the boys. Rather that than sit through a boring meeting with you assholes.”

Rowan frowns. “Shouldn’t I be at the meeting if it’s about Larry?”

It’s not about Larry; it’s about you.

I don’t say that. Obviously. That’ll just make him think he has more of a right to be there, which he does, but I want to protect Rowan. Not just from whoever this fucker is, but even from the knowledge that someone out there wants to hurt him.

I swallow hard, keeping my eyes on Rowan’s face. “Trust me?”

He bites his lip before nodding. “Okay.”

“Don’t worry,” Harley says cheerfully, finishing his slice of toast and shoving off the counter. “We’ll have more fun than them. I guarantee it.”

He shoots me a wink that has me wanting to find my dagger, but he sweeps Rowan from my arms and out of the kitchen before I can so much as blink.

I don’t know whether to thank my brother or stab him.

Both. You can do both.

23

ROWAN

“Where are we going?” I ask as Harley motions for me to follow him.

“Well, while you and Samson were groping each other, Neo messaged me. Apparently he’s been experimenting with the supernatural and wants us to come try some witchy concoction he made. It’s an old-time tradition, he says.”

“Has he done this tradition before?”

“Not as far as I know,” Harley says cheerfully, leading me out into the backyard. “God knows what he’s put in it.”

“Jesus,” I murmur, then laugh. “That sounds dangerous. Are we going to die?”

“Chances are high that we will, but it’ll be fun. Just don’t tell Jules. He won’t be happy with Neo using his strawberries.”

“Oh, are they special?”

“They are. They are grown at a local farm, but the brew required something red and rare, and Neo insisted. I did offer my AB negative blood…”

I shudder. “Oh god. I’m not drinking your blood no matter how rare it is.”

“That’s what Neo said. But there’s nothing wrong with my blood. A lot of people want it, just so you know.”

“I’m sure it’s lovely and very helpful, but I’d rather not consume it. I’m not a vampire.”

He chuckles and squeezes me tightly, jostling me slightly. “Yeah, fair enough.”

We turn slightly and make our way toward the gazebo in the backyard. I rub my eyes in disbelief, but Ansel and Neo really do have a large pot boiling over a fire. It’s very much like witches tending their cauldrons. Only more domestic and more twenty-first century.

When I approach, I realize it’s not actually a wood-burning fire, but a pot set on top of a gas burner, the kind you would use for fondue. But I guess it works.

“You made it,” Neo says, stirring his spoon around, his eyes flicking to mine. “Amazing. We needed four people, and I do not want to hear Wylder bitch about this.”