Page 3 of Starry with a Chance of Nightshade

Stratton chanced a quick glance at his cousin to find Drest’s full attention was locked upon the female again. The way in which he stared at her explained a lot—like why he had such a damn soft spot for a family that had been nothing but trouble for two hundred years. He nudged his cousin with his elbow, catching Drest’s ribs.

Drest shot him a hard look.

Stratton’s eyes widened slightly as he mouthed “she’s pregnant.”

Drest’s gaze snapped back to the woman, his look of desire only increasing. He rushed to the woman, easing the tray from her. He then headed into the sitting room off to their right.

Stratton followed. The room was a rather long rectangle, with ample seating and another room off it where a baby grand piano sat. This area lacked any kind of modern technology that Stratton could see as well.

“Rachael, you didn’t need to go to all this trouble,” said Drest, his voice coming off softer than normal.

“It’s no trouble,” she responded with a breathy sigh, their gazes locked firmly on one another. “It’s been a while since I last saw you. I mean, since you paid us a visit to check in on things.”

Stratton merely watched the interaction, deciding it best to keep his mouth shut.

Drest continued to stand there, staring at Rachael, holding the tray of tea. “I know. I haven’t been able to get away. I wanted to.” He looked pained. “Things have been busy at work.”

She was part of his job, but he certainly wasn’t talking to her like she was. If the higher-ups found out Drest had a thing for Rachael, it would not end well. Stratton had once known a hunter who had fallen for one of the people he’d been charged with overseeing. When the higher-ups found out, they’d yanked the hunter from duty there and sent him to Siberia.

Literally to Siberia.

There had been some talk of that rule possibly being tweaked or amended in the future, but for now, Rachael was off-limits. That didn’t seem to matter to Drest one bit.

He and Rachael stared at one another for a long and incredibly noticeable stretch of time.

Drest came out of his daze and set the tray full of tea on a side serving table. He then opened the leaf of the table as if he’d done so before. In fact, he seemed quite at home.

Stratton cleared his throat, no longer wanting to be a witness to whatever relationship his cousin had going on. He’d never seen Drest behave this way. Sure, Drest liked the ladies as much as Stratton, but this was something altogether different.

As Stratton thought harder on it, he realized Drest hadn’t been sleeping around for a while now. He tried to remember the last time he’d had to yank his cousin out of bed with some random woman lying next to him. When Stratton realized it had been even longer than he thought, his eyes widened. Was Drest romantically involved with Rachael, and if so, was it serious?

His gaze snapped to her pregnant belly. No. Drest couldn’t be the father. There was no way Drest would have found his mate and not mentioned as much to Stratton. Something that huge would have been shared, even if his mate was one of the people he was charged with monitoring. Not swept under the rug.

It wasn’t as if Drest could reproduce with any kind of ease with anyone other than his mate. It was a checks-and-balance system nature had in place to prevent supernaturals from overpopulating. Stratton hadn’t really ever given much thought to finding his mate. When he was younger, he used to worry he’d find her right away and that would effectively clip his balls before he had a chance to sow his wild oats. And then, as the decades passed with no sign of her, he began to worry he may not have one.

Not every supernatural did.

The air pressure changed slightly, yanking Stratton from his thoughts on mates and raising his inner alarms. If he didn’t know better, he’d have said something of Dark Fae origin was in the vicinity. A creature. Something non-homolid? A potential threat.

He turned slowly in the direction the sensation was coming from and peered into the room with the piano. A number of houseplants filled the room, partially eclipsing sections of it. Nothing stuck out to him as being a threat; then again, if there was a creature and if it was smart, it would sense Stratton was a hunter and it’d steer clear of him.

Drest was too busy staring at Rachael to notice. That or Stratton’s inner radar was off the mark. It didn’t happen often, but it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility either. He’d not had any sleep in the last thirty-six hours and couldn’t remember if he’d eaten recently, things had been that busy with work.

He took a step in the direction of the piano room and had the strangest urge to go the other way, back to the foyer he’d only just been standing in. That the Dark Fae he was sensing was the least of his concerns at the moment. That something much, much more dangerous was close. His power was what most in the supernatural world considered death magik. The Nightshade Clan were masters of the craft when it came to death spells and dealing with souls. His power slid through him, making him very aware something death-related was near.

Against nature.

Wrong.

He followed the pull, letting it lead him to where he needed to be. Stratton found himself where he’d started—back in the foyer. His attention centered on a large wooden door that was shut.

Drest trailed behind him out to the foyer as well. “What is it?”

Stratton nodded to the door. “Where does that go?”

Rachael joined them, her gaze darting to the door in question. She swallowed hard and tipped her head down, her dark hair falling partially into her face. She was hiding something.

“The basement,” Drest said, clearly knowing the layout of the home well. “What are you picking up on?”

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