It was still faintly marred with blood in places, mainly the sleeves, and torn at the shoulder and hem. I made a mental note to inquire about the gowns at Olivianna’s as Scythe brought my clasped hand to his mouth, and we walked along the riverfront.

The moon was the same shape as his scarred eye. My stomach warmed when he rubbed my knuckles over his soft lips. “I’ll murder Fang for his inability to keep his damned mouth shut.”

“Why is she so displeased with you?” I dredged the courage to ask.

Scythe clutched my hand to his chest, pulling me into his side. “I missed family dinner last night.”

I recalled Fang visiting him the evening prior and nodded. Relieved it was not because of me, at least, not entirely, I relaxed against him as the first row of houses bordering the city came into view.

“If you’re worried, we don’t have to go.”

I squeezed his hand. “We do.”

It was clear that this family of Fang’s was also his own, even if that hadn’t always been the case. Even if perhaps he was too afraid to admit such a thing to himself. They meant something to him, and anyone who meant something to this incredibly guarded creature was someone I knew I’d want to know.

The townhouse made from brown stone sat on the corner of the first block outside of the woods.

Its tall windows overlooked the river. Beneath them were white wooden boxes overflowing with crimson roses. The same dotted the hedges in the small front garden.

A white door with a brass knocker in the shape of a wolf waited above two wooden steps at the end of the garden path, and it opened before we’d even reached it.

Fang hurried out, his hands raised. “I know what you’re thinking, but I swear, I didn’t tell them a rotting thing.” After a quick glance behind him into the house, he lowered his voice and spoke behind his hand. “You know how she is. She knew I wasn’t telling her something, so she took matters into her own hands.”

Scythe’s jaw unclenched as he studied the male with long brunette hair. He was just as tall as the giant beside me but leaner with far less muscular bulk.

His dark eyes narrowed upon my hand in Scythe’s, then widened when he truly looked at me. “This male?” he asked, blinking once and hard as he jabbed his thumb at Scythe. “Are you certain the fates chose right, and it is him you want?”

Rubbing his hands together, Fang grinned and stepped back when Scythe released a low, throaty growl. “I’m Fang.”

“Aster,” I said with a trained smile.

“Fang is short for Fanerin,” Scythe supplied with obvious pleasure.