Jack practically fed on Gwen’s glares, loving the heat of her anger. He was so deep under her skin.

“You don’t get to call me that.”

“Just stating the obvious. Hi, I’m Jack. You’re gorgeous.”

“How will you help me wipe the evidence, when you’re the one I’m going to murder?”

He chuckled. “I guess we’ll find out. Right. Litter. See you at the checkout.”

A three-hour round trip later, they were driving up Night Hill to the third gated property from the base of the hill—Stormhale’s plot.

Where there used to be one flat-roofed Grecian mansion, there now stood four smaller houses, and a great hall meant to entertain visitors behind it.

He parked in front of the first of those houses, the largest one, as Bash sat on the new building’s steps.

Though smaller than the old manor, this house was just as luxurious. The south wall was a window, though from the outside, he couldn’t see anything going on inside. The other walls were supported by black marble arches and jade columns. Flanking an imposing door were two statues of what appeared to be deities, Zeus, or perhaps Jupiter, on one side and someone equally pompous on the other.

The building was gaudy and gorgeous all at once.

Out of the car, Jack hugged his old friend briefly. “Did Cat send you out to help unload?”

“I don’t want to spend more time in this house than necessary.” Bash grimaced. “It’s Seth’s.”

Jack could have guessed as much.

Bash, just like about ninety percent of people who ever met him, couldn’t stand Seth Stormhale.

“Why didn’t you guys use your house?”

Bash and Cat’s new house, right behind Seth’s, was a white three-story home, without columns, domes, or stained glass imported from Italy.

“Seth’s house is almost finished. He even has some furniture. If Blair is supposed to feed the kitten every hour, she might as well have a sofa to sit on.”

“And you hope the cat will destroy Seth’s fancy furniture,” Gwen guessed.

Bash grinned. “Maybe.”

Jack should have taken one of Huntsmen’s vehicles rather than his convertible—Gwen had traveled with a bed on her lap and a litter tray under her feet—but they’d managed to get everything a kitten possibly needed. They unloaded the car, entering the imposing house.

Jack was surprised to find the interior considerably less gaudy than he would have thought—though of course, Seth wasn’t done decorating. All the walls were painted black, with gold accents.

“Over here!” They followed Cat’s voice to a sitting room with several armchairs—all black—presided over by an enormous magenta chesterfield.

Blair sat with crossed legs on it, the kitten cocooned against her.

“We have a name!” she announced cheerfully. “Velvet.”

“Because he peed on the velvet sofa,” Cat clarified, snorting. “I can’t wait to tell Seth.”

She didn’t communicate often with her brother, who was still infiltrating Aveka’s island for them.

“I love it,” Gwen proclaimed. “I think we got everything. The formula needs hot water. Do you have electricity for a kettle here?”

“Not yet, but I’ll make sure the electrician comes this week,” Cat promised. “In the meantime, someone with vampire speed can always go fetch some from Skyhall.”

Jack approached Blair to get a closer look at the little thing that had caused so much commotion. He grinned at its tiny face. “You’re set on Velvet? He looks like a warrior, if I’ve ever seen one. And he’s already mocking a demi-god.”

“No one has ever mocked me and lived.”