Haunted by the King of Death by Felicity Heaton Page B

he stepped out from behind him.
    Antoine wasn’t talking about the dangers of the realms of Hell or those who lived within them. He was talking about it being dangerous for Snow’s state of mind, that entering Hell with Grave and assisting him in something related to the shared dark part of their past might send him deep into his bloodlust.
    Snow should have sought to master it as Grave had, harnessing it instead of allowing it to rule him, using it rather than fearing it. If he had, perhaps then he wouldn’t have to worry about losing control.
    He mentally chastised himself. He had no right to think poorly of Snow because of his inability to master his bloodlust, not when he was partly responsible for the hold it had over his cousin. An unfamiliar sensation squirmed in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t normally do guilt, but it was a feeling he couldn’t extinguish when it came to Snow and his predicament.
    When Snow had been nearing the end of his term with the Preux Chevaliers, he had confided in Grave that he didn’t want Antoine to have to serve after him because he feared it would awaken bloodlust in his younger brother. Grave had taken advantage of Snow’s love for his brother, seeing it as a chance to gain something he desired—rulership of the Preux Chevaliers.
    He had convinced Snow to help him take out all of the superior officers so he could take the first step in seizing control, promising that Antoine wouldn’t have to serve if he was in charge.
    He couldn’t have known what would happen, that the battles they waged against the commanders and their loyal men would give Snow’s bloodlust such power over him, and eventually lead to him losing control and killing half of their family while lost to the darkness.
    He held his tongue, aware that Snow was already struggling and he was only thinking about entering Hell again. Fire warred with ice in his eyes, a constant state of flux that had Grave on the verge of telling him Antoine was right and it wasn’t a wise idea.
    The only thing that stopped him from refusing Snow’s help was a sudden tingling in his fingers that warned they were fading again.
    The attacks were either getting closer together or it was the stress of the situation causing them to fade. Either way, it wasn’t good news. He focused on the mark on his back and felt it warm as he thought about Isla. Was she close to finding a mage?
    He doubted it.
    “Snow,” Antoine started but Snow shook his head.
    “Remain with Sera and the babe. Your family needs your protection.”
    Antoine scowled at him but it was short lived. His shoulders sagged beneath his grey shirt. “You are my family too, Snow.”
    It chafed that Antoine didn’t mention Grave was his family. It seemed he had been right before and only Snow viewed him as kin now.
    “I do not need your help,” Grave bit out and tipped his chin up, standing a little taller as both of his cousins looked his way. “I only came to warn you… but now I am not really sure why I came at all. I should have sent word through a messenger. I apologise for disturbing you.”
    He tried to get past Snow but the male blocked the door, pressing his back to it again and refusing to budge even when Grave tugged on the handle near his hips.
    “You came because we’re family.” Snow’s words made him falter, his anger fade a little, enough that he stilled with his hand on the doorknob, the heart that had been cold for longer than he could remember warming as his cousin’s words sank into it. “Deep inside you know that… we all do. No bullshit excuses now, Grave. You came because you knew I would help you… and I will.”
    Snow’s right hand came down on his shoulder, and Grave stared at the doorframe beyond him, struggling to mask the sudden feelings that welled up inside him, softer ones he fought to banish before anyone saw them.
    Was Snow right?
    One look into his cousin’s eyes, one glimpse of the warmth in them, gave him the answer to