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Chapter 4

    “Where’d Bones go?”
    Kerestyan looked up from the book he’d been reading when Odin’s much too happy voice broke the peaceful silence of the living room. “She’s sleeping.”
    Odin wiggled his black eyebrows. “Is she naked?”
    Kerestyan flipped the book closed and stretched in his chair. “I would assume not. I offered her a pair of sleeping pants and a t-shirt since I knew how unlikely it was you’d return in a reasonable amount of time.”
    Odin dropped a canvas duffle bag on the floor. “It’s only Noon. Besides, I stopped at home and told Vouclade you needed a vet.” He kicked the bag, which landed directly in front of Kerestyan’s feet. “Her clothes are in there.”
    Kerestyan picked up the bag and set it in his lap. When he pulled open the zipper and saw the contents, a smile curved his lips. “You made her clothes.”
    Odin reached up and scratched the back of his head, false irritation crinkling the faint lines around his eyes. “It’s not like I had a choice. The all night grocery store doesn’t sell a size two meant to fit a six foot tall bean pole.”
    And thus his brother’s true colors emerged. It was just a shame he refused to show them except for rare occasions.
    “Thank you, Odin.”
    He abruptly turned and headed for the kitchen. “Yeah, yeah. You know you owe me a lot more than the grand you gave me, right?”
    Kerestyan laughed as he set the bag back on the floor and moved to stand in the doorway of the kitchen. Nothing was closer to the truth. The only skill that outshined Odin’s ability to make war – was his remarkable talent as a tailor.
    He arched a brow as Odin, nose to the air, sniffed his way down the hallway leading to the bedrooms. Apparently his skill as a bloodhound was becoming almost as remarkable.
    Odin stopped outside Logan’s door and grumbled before working his way back to the kitchen. “She’s sleeping because she’s high as a fucking kite, you know that right? I can’t believe you let her shoot up in there.”
    Kerestyan slumped against the door frame. He’d caught the sweet yet chemically laced scent shortly after he’d left her room, but hadn’t felt it was his place to intervene. “I’m not her keeper, Odin. What she chooses to do with her own body is none of my business.”
    “You may not be her keeper, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be her savior. Have you smelled her? I mean, really gotten close and taken a big whiff?”
    If he’d intended the “savior” comment to sting, it worked. “No,” Kerestyan growled. “Unlike you, I never viewed her as food.”
    After pulling open the door, Odin buried his head in the refrigerator. “You should. Because what she’s choosing to do with her own body,” his accusing black eyes peeked over the top of the door, “her very human and very fragile body…is slowly killing her. Not to mention how much it’s gonna piss off Vouclade.” His eyes returned to searching the shelves. “You know how he feels about drug addicts.”
    Kerestyan rubbed a hand across his forehead. He knew all too well how Vouclade felt about substance abusers and their dealers. After all, he’d been a more than willing participant in the short lived systematic eradication plan, and a rather happy one at that.
    The impending conversation with Vouclade had the propensity to get very ugly, equally as fast.
    “Kerestyan? Are you listening to me?”
    Kerestyan stepped back into the living room and picked up the book he’d been reading before Odin so rudely interrupted his day. “What form of payment would you like for the clothing?”
    “I wanna know what you plan on doing with Bones.”
    He straightened and stared at the empty slot on the bookshelf across the room.
    So much for changing the subject.
    He inhaled a deep breath then slowly blew it out. As much as he wanted to, lying to Odin wasn’t an option. Not that he couldn’t, it just never worked. “I haven’t decided yet.”
    Only a few