Abel stepped forward, and it took all my strength not to let him know he scared the fucking shit out of me. I had no reason other than a sixth sense that this man would eat me alive. I’d thought Cain would, and maybe at one point he would have, but Abel looked at me like I was a T.V. dinner he wanted to eat or maybe crush my bones. It was hard to tell, but neither was good.

There was no spark or connection. All I felt was cold as I stared at the man who liked to cut people into pieces and mangle their bodies almost beyond recognition. He was the wild card in the deck, the joker you never saw coming.

“What is it about you?” Abel said as he stopped, just shy of my sleeping foam.

His head twisted a little from side to side like a bird would, which only added to my creeped-out meter.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“What is it about you that has changed my brother? What are you doing to him? Do you have a magic pussy? Are you a witch? That’s it, isn’t it? You’re a witch with a magical pussy that has turned my brother into someone I don’t recognize.”

“You think I’m a witch, like a real witch with spells?” I couldn’t help but smile, which didn’t seem to help my cause as Abel’s eyes narrowed into a glare. “Does it look like I have magical powers? I mean, if I did, I wouldn’t worry about turning your brother into whatever, and I’d undo the chains and unlock the door instead.”

Abel tapped his chin, the chains around his neck jingling as he did. His moment of confusion gave me a chance to look him over. The brothers were very identical, but there were subtle differences. Cain had a freckle near his left nipple. It was a small thing, but Abel didn’t have one. Abel’s voice was just a fraction higher than Cain’s. It was so close to being the same that anyone who hadn’t spent a lot of time with them wouldn’t notice, but the clothes, on the other hand…

Cain wouldn’t be caught dead in a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt or ripped jeans with stains on them. Even the shoes on Abel’s feet were nothing like what Cain would wear. Cain liked clean and crisp items, and he wore mostly black. His shirts were fitted to his sexy chest and abs.

“If you’re not a witch, then it means that you’re simply dangerous to Cain and not to me,” he said, and the soft smile on my face fell. His hand reached behind his back. I didn’t need to see to know he had a knife and planned to use it.