Page 142 of Scars Beneath a Serpent’s Scales

That knife twisted again. She hadn’t realized quite how deep Roremar and Desmond’s bond ran, but they truly were brothers.

“Why doesn’t he let you in?” Emmeline whispered, words catching in her throat.

Nico shook his head, gaze on his hands. “I don’t know. He’s been starting to. Recently. With this case in particular.”

The day Desmond and Nico first charged into the Accords flooded back to her. The tension between them and Roremar, how he hadn’t seemed to want them there. She thought it was purely for privacy’s sake, but the wounds were carved deeper. He was a protector to his core.

It made sense why Nico had lied to Myrella when they first met, and what truth he’d told her that made her reconsider. His older brother was always looking out for their family, but Nico was looking out for him.

“Deaths aside, I think this assignment has been good for him,” Nico admitted. “I think you’re good for him, Emmeline.”

“I haven’t done anything,” she asserted. “If anything, I’ve only aggravated him.” While he’d saved her time and again.

Nico laughed. “I think you’ve influenced him in some subconscious way. I don’t know what it is, but it’s there. The change.”

“Are he and I even friends? After I accused Desmond…”

Nico blew out a breath. “Roremar doesn’t draw lines in the sand so easily. He’s blunt and acts like he does, but there’s a lot beneath the surface.”

Those words dug roots into her mind, questions spouting. What more was there? Heat ignited in her veins at the prospect of finding out, all those gentle touches from last night scorching through her memory.

It seemed like a hard fact to live with, everyone thinking he was something he wasn’t. Her chest ached, the thread stitched between them tugging. She wished she could rescind all those times she’d shoved it in his face.

Maybe, if she truly could do a hint of good for him, that would make up for it.

“Thanks, Nico,” she muttered. “I think you’re all lucky to have him.”

“Don’t know where we’d be otherwise.”

“Emmeline!” Siena called, racing up the path with flushed cheeks. “Roremar said he’ll take us night swimming! Will you come?”

She laughed as Siena gripped her hand. “I haven’t got anything to wear.”

“Don’t worry,” she assured her, eyes wide and eager, “we have extras upstairs from our sister.”

Emmeline met Roremar’s smirk over Siena’s head, his silver eyes burning as he watched them. “Then how can I say no?”

Chapter Forty-Five

Roremar

Swimming might have been a horrible idea after all. He could never say no to Siena, especially not on her birthday, but he was enduring some beautiful sort of nightmarish torture when Emmeline walked onto that beach beneath their cliffside home.

Even if it was a nightmare, he never wanted to wake up.

A silk slip draped her frame, dark-blue fabric stopping mid-thigh. In the moonlight, her scars shone, but she didn’t attempt to cover them. Didn’t pull at the hem or hide. And he wanted to see all of her, splayed out beneath the stars for him to indulge in.

Siena held her hand, tugging her down toward the water. Vivienne and Nico bickered at his back. Over what? He had no Fatesdamned clue. Every drop of his attention was on Emmeline.

The waves washed gently up the beach, chilling the sand beneath the moonlight as they reached him. Without warning, Nico raced by, scooped Siena by the waist, and threw her over his shoulder. As he left, he tossed Roremar a wink that had him scowling in return.

“Not too far!” Roremar called as Nico grabbed Vivienne under his other arm and charged into the water, his sisters’ shrieks filling the air.

Emmeline’s low laughter pulled his attention back, and he couldn’t stop his gaze from coasting over her body. To the long length of her legs, the curve of her waist, the⁠—

“Fuck,” he breathed.

Emmeline tilted her head, chestnut waves slipping over her shoulder. “What was that?”