"It's not your fault," Julian says, for what must be the dozenth time. "Honestly, Noah—I'm not hurt, and I'm just as much to blame."

"Hardly," I laugh. "I'm a wolf, Julian. I should know better. You're..."

I trail off as I realize he's glaring purple fire at me, and swallow my words.

"I'm what?" he demands. "Go on—say it. What am I, Noah?"

I feel my breath catch as I realize the shine in his eyes isn't Fae Fire, after all. It's only tears.

"J-Julian, I didn't m-mean—"

"Come now, enough of this," Ambrose breaks in. "We'll all have time to blame ourselves—or one another—later, I imagine. For now, let's make sure you're alright, Mr. Hart."

He's kneeling beside Julian's chair, the fingers of one hand pressed to Julian's wrist and his eyes fixed on his own watch, which appears to be an antique. Between the setting and our outfits, he looks like a nineteenth-century physician attending his patient.

"Your pulse is fine, at least," Ambrose says, releasing Julian's wrist and standing to lean over him, taking his face between his hands and turning it towards the light, then gently lifting either lid with his thumb to examine his eyes. "Pupils reacting normally as well. How do you feel? Any pain, nausea?"

Julian shakes his head and wipes his eyes on his sleeve as Ambrose steps back. "No. Just a little dizziness."

"Hmm. And what do you remember? Anything?"

Sitting forward to rest his elbows on his knees, Julian runs both hands over his silky dark hair and shakes his head. "You both ran out, then everything was quiet. I took a sip of my drink, and then... That's it."

"The drink—where'd you get it?"

Julian squints up at him. "At the bar, like everyone else. It was just tonic water with lemon and ice."

"Did you see the bartender make it?"

"I—no," Julian admits. "She was pretty busy, so I just asked for two waters and then went to get the food. When I came back, the drinks were on the bar."

"Wonderful," Ambrose sighs. "So anyone might 've slipped a little something extra in while no one looked. Has no one ever told you not to drink something you've left unattended?"

Julian glowers, then sniffs and slumps forward once more. "Dane is going to kill me," he groans with his hands over his face.

"Get in line," I mutter.

"Well, at least we have this," Ambrose says, holding up a little green plastic baggie with a knot tied in the top.

It's a dog-poop bag—something Ambrose apparently carries in his pockets at all times—and it contains the disgusting tooth we'd found in the upstairs room. As soon as we'd established that Julian was alive and unharmed, Ambrose had gone to retrieve it.

"We don't have anything," Julian snaps. "What are you even doing here, anyway, Dr. Thorne, and what exactly do you know about this case?"

Ambrose frowns at him, seeming to make some sort of assessment as he does. "I've already promised Noah an explanation," he says, "and I suppose you might as well hear it too, but I'd rather we didn't speak here. The walls, as you may have noticed, are not as solid as I'd like."

"Fine. We need to find Barker anyway."

Julian gets to his feet, takes a few steps and then stops, swaying where he stands. Ambrose moves quickly to his side and puts a steadying arm around his waist, and I feel a little needle of jealousy sting my heart. I turn aside, pretending to inspect the other glass of soda water, which remained untouched, and doing my best to hide whatever expression of self-loathing might be on my face.

It's so stupid. I'm so stupid.

He kissed me as a joke and to keep the other guests from seeing my freaky ears, and has done nothing but entertain himself at my expense since the moment we met. And yet as I watched him check Julian over, I couldn't take my eyes from him. I'd noted the width of his shoulders, the taper of his waist and hips, the shadow of red-brown stubble darkening his jaw, the smoothness of his cream-colored skin, and the dark, level lines of his brows.

Mostly, my eyes were drawn to the shape of his mouth and rose-blushed lips, while my mind slipped on the memory of the strange, intoxicating taste of his kiss.

Whatever else he might be, he was nothing good.

Not for me, anyway.

"Why don't you stay here with Dr. Thorne, Julian," I suggest. "I'll find Barker and tell him the bad news."

"Fine," Julian sighs unhappily, but allows himself to be steered back to his chair.

Quickly, I escape out to the main hall, in search of our host.

Ten minutes later I return, confused and having found no sign of Thaddeus Barker anywhere. What I did find were a number of things that have left me with a strong desire to rinse my eyes with bleach.

"Barker's not here," I announce, entering the library to find Julian alone, though apparently improved. He's on his feet, making his way back and forth along the wall where the painting hung, tapping at it as he goes. "Where's Thorne?"

"In the next room over," Julian says. "We're trying to figure out how thick the wall is and if there's some way to get inside. Anyway, what do you mean, Barker's not here?"

As he speaks, Thorne returns, casting me a look that borders on a frown. "Wall's maybe fifty-centimeters thick. Wider than normal, but not quite enough for a hidden-passageway. We'll have to ask Thaddeus if there's an access panel somewhere—if he turns up that is. You say you can't find him?"

The question is directed at me, and I shake my head.

"Well, if you haven't yet, you won't—not tonight." He sighs and looks up at the bare patch on the wall. "There's no point hanging around here much longer, for me at least. Here—" he hands Julian the poop-bag containing the tooth, "—give that to your man. Maybe he can make something of it, maybe not. As for me, I'm off home. Will you come, Noah?"

He turns to me and I feel heat rising to my face. "I c-can't," I say. "J-Julian shouldn't d-drive. I have to t-take care of h—"

Julian cuts me off with an exasperated noise. "No you don't, Noah," he snaps. "Can you even drive a stick, anyway?"

"Um...n-no," I admit. I'd forgotten his car was nearly as old as my parents. "But—"

"Go home," Julian continues, gentling his tone. "Get some rest. I'll smooth things over with Dane."

"Shouldn't we c-call the police?" I ask, clearing my throat and willing myself to stop stuttering like a fool. "There's been a theft, after all."

"Why do you think the department asked Dane to look into this case in the first place?" he returns, rolling his eyes. "Chief Coleridge doesn't want to waste time and resources chasing after a bunch of rich dudes' lost trinkets. Besides, that's Barker's business. If he wants to report it—once he discovers it—he can. I'm sure he'll be wanting to complain about us at any rate. Good thing we have a 'no refunds' policy."

He adds the last bit while staring at the stain on the rug. At least his drink had been only water. The unfortunate glass, on the other hand, I'm pretty sure had been some kind of crystal.

"Right," he says, straightening with a sigh, "let's get out of here, before we can be blamed for any more disasters."

He turns and takes a few quick steps towards the door, then wavers and catches himself against the frame before continuing at a more careful pace. Thorne notices, and his frown deepens slightly.

He catches up to walk at Julian's side, and I follow.

"Mr. Hart," he says, not touching, but obviously ready to catch him if needed. "May I suggest you come with Noah and myself? Your vehicle will be safe where it is for now, and Noah is right—at least in his opinion that you shouldn't drive. I may not be a human doctor, but I know enough to see you're not entirely well."

Julian glances at him, and I see curiosity, as well mild offense in his eyes. Perhaps, like me, he's wondering whether Thorne means he's not a doctor who treats humans, or not a doctor who is human. Not that it matters, since he knows well enough that Julian isn't human either way.

"I guess I could have Dane meet us at your place," he says. "He'll want to hear whatever story you have to tell."

Thorne nods, and together we leave Barker's mansion and head for the rows of cars parked outside, lining the wide driveway that ends in a circle around an ostentatious fountain.

Instead of the white van I'd seen him in before, Thorne leads us to a large silver sedan with sleek lines and a winged logo on the hood.

"Is that... Is that a Bentley?" I ask weakly.

Thorne nods. "My granda's. Found it in the garage, anyway. Get in."

Julian takes the front seat and I climb in the back.

A short, silent ride later, we reach Thorne's house. Julian calls Dane on the way, and we've barely arrived and greeted Dougal at the door when Dane's old Ford Explorer rattles up and he jumps out, striding towards us with a look on his face that makes me want to hide. If he was anyone but my brother, I'd be afraid for Julian and myself, but I know his anger isn't really directed at us.

As expected, he walks straight up to Julian and takes him in a hug, just standing for a full minute with the slighter man crushed in his arms. Despite not being a wolf himself, Julian's bond with Dane is as strong as any alpha's mate, and I can tell he needs the contact and the reassurance just as much as Dane does.

I look away, turning my attention back to Dougal to distract myself, trying not to feel self-pity while wondering if I'll ever know how it feels to be loved like that.

At last, the pair break apart, and then Dane turns to Thorne, who's been standing to one side, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and an all-too-knowing smirk on his lips.

"Thank you for helping my brother and my mate, Dr. Thorne," Dane says, his voice gruff and low. "That said, I'd like you to explain just what the fuck went wrong tonight, what the fuck you are, and how the fuck you know so much."

Thorne's smirk widens to a smile and his eyes light like embers of red fire. "That I shall, Mr. Hunter, that I shall. And please, call me Ambrose."

With that, he pushes himself from the wall, turns, and leads us deeper into the labyrinthine depths of his strange house.