Page 93 of Bewitched By a Vampire

“He knows.” Night held his gaze, refusing to look away, showing his brother that he wouldn’t let him shame him, or scold him for what he had done. “After the fact.”

Grave shook his head and huffed, and then sighed as he admitted, “I probably would have done it the same way.”

Bastian was a cold, greedy bastard, and Night and Grave had quickly learned that it was better to ask forgiveness than permission when it came to their brother and his perceived belongings. Asking for permission normally resulted in being turned down. Asking for forgiveness never failed. Their oldest brother always ended up letting them off the hook.

Eventually.

Night shoved his fingers through his hair as a wave of fatigue rolled over him and denied the urge to look at Lilian. He wanted to take her to their room, curl up on the bed with her and sleep with her in his arms, only this time, he wanted to wake to find her still there.

Grave looked him over, his expression slowly darkening as he took in Night’s clothing and then studied his face. When his older brother looked ready to commit bloody murder, Night held his gaze and silently pleaded him not to ask. Lilian was afraid enough as it was. If Grave asked what had happened to him to make him look so tired and why he was wearing Antoine’s clothes, she would probably panic and dig her own grave by attempting to explain things.

Night’s gaze shifted to Lilian and he looked down into her eyes as he tangled his fingers with hers and clutched her hand. Eventually, Grave would demand to know what had happened, but when he did, Night would be the one filling his brother in. It was better things came from him. Whatever happened after that, he was here for her and he wouldn’t let his brother hurt her.

He looked back at Grave and caught him gazing at the other phantom in the room with a lovesick look in his pale blue eyes that Night also found highly disturbing, but at the same time, it made him happy. He was glad his brother had found love and had a mate he obviously adored.

But he wasn’t glad it had turned his brother into a ghost.

The white-haired female looked down at the strip of pale material that had been tied across her chest, over her freakishly flowing white dress. The ends of that dress were ragged and drifted ethereally, as if they were fluttering in a breeze no one could feel, and as he watched them, he noticed something.

She was floating.

Her feet weren’t touching the floor.

He looked at Grave’s shoes and frowned as he saw his brother was floating too.

If Grave wanted him to answer some questions, then Night was going to be asking some of his own too.

He looked to his brother for an explanation, but it was Snow who stepped forwards. The big white-haired vampire looked like a shadow compared with the paleness of Grave and the phantom, his muscular body clad in a skin-tight black T-shirt and jeans and heavy boots.

“We have books from a phantom mage… and we need one spell in particular.” Snow’s deep voice rolled through the room, drawing everyone’s focus to him. “One that will turn Isla corporeal, and hitting Grave with the same spell probably wouldn’t hurt.”

Grave slanted their cousin a warning glare, probably because Snow was obviously amused by Grave’s predicament. Snow just smiled and shrugged his broad shoulders.

Isla?

Was that the name of Grave’s mate?

Night would be asking about her later, when he and Grave were alone, and Grave was no longer a ghost. He wanted to know about Grave’s mate. She was a new addition to his family, and a welcome one at that. Grave was hiding it well, but Night knew him well enough to spot the tells.

His brother was happy.

For the last century, Grave had been a miserable bastard—or at least more gloomy and dark than usual—and now Night knew why.

Isla had broken his heart.

But now it looked as if she had pieced it back together.

So Night forgave her for hurting his brother and wouldn’t hurt her in return. Instead, he would do his best to ensure she remained with Grave and became part of their family.

And he hoped that Grave would be as welcoming to Lilian.

“We’ll take a look.” Elissa stepped towards Snow and took the sack of books from him.

She jerked forwards when he released them. The sack hit the hard floor with a boom that echoed around the double-height room. Payne chuckled until she shot him a black look, stars sparkling in her grey irises. He schooled his features and hurried to help her, easily lifting the heavy sack and swinging it over his right shoulder, flashing the line of markings that tracked down the underside of his forearm. They were dark, muted colours. Night guessed it was a sign of not fear, but something akin to it. Uneasiness? He clearly didn’t want his mate to be angry with him.

Grave’s jaw tensed and he glared at a point beyond Night, and Night was about to ask him what was wrong when the sack his brother had been holding suddenly became solid and dropped right through him. Grave shuddered.

Isla casually turned completely solid in order to set her own sack of books down at her feet, cerulean blue leather trousers and a matching corset and boots replacing her white dress for a heartbeat before she turned phantom again.

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