The heavy door of Erik’s home swung open in front of Brand. Bera stood in the entryway, a redheaded statuesque beauty straight out of Norse myth. A smile played across her face. From her, that expression was more dangerous than a glare.

She inclined her head exactly as much as required, the barest inch. She stood high in the ranks among their kind, almost even with Erik. “Welcome, Brandúlfr, son of Geirúlfr.” She gestured with her arm, welcoming him into her home.

Brand hesitated, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t come in. He’ll smell me, and he didn’t know I was coming here.”

“That’s what I’m hoping for.” Her lips curled into a deeper, mischievous smile. “I will not speak to you across my threshold. Some of us still keep to the tenets of hospitality.”

Brand grumbled. He couldn’t decline to enter without causing offense, which would put him in the prickly situation of having to apologize. He moved past Bera through the marble-tiled foyer and into the elegant drawing room. He sat awkwardly on the overstuffed couch and waited for her to bring him a drink, trying not to seem as irritated as he was. She offered him a glass of whiskey, bending in a deep and precise curtsey.

She took a seat opposite him, crossing her long, shapely legs at the knee. “I don’t suppose you’re here to make a pass at me? Erik could use a good fight. He’s been in a foul mood for weeks.”

Brand almost choked on his first sip of whiskey, swallowing past the sudden blockage in his throat with effort. “The last time Erik and I fought, I almost killed him.”

She bared sharp teeth in a menacing grin. “That’s as may be, but he wasn’t fighting for me, then.”

“True enough.” He put down the glass and leaned back into the couch. “I don’t know why you’re bringing this up. You wouldn’t accept me if I did.”

She answered him in Norse, her tone rough with scorn. “Do not presume to know my mind, son of the Spear.” Her anger roared around him, but his defenses remained in place. After a pause, she continued in English, “I am as much the moon’s daughter as I am my father’s.”

Brand repressed the urge to shiver and seized the opportunity given by her silent glare to change the subject. “Have you been running around Denver in wolf form?”

One red eyebrow arched in inquiry. “Why would you ask me that?”

“A woman was killed by one of us in the city last night. During the investigation someone reported seeing a red wolf in the surrounding area.”

Bera pursed her lips. “You’re not seriously implying I killed her?”

“No, I’m here because I want to know if one of your brothers might be in town.”

Bera stood with a smooth motion and moved toward him, stalking with lithe hunter’s grace. He tensed, unsure of her intentions. She pulled up her right sleeve and offered her wrist. Brand lowered his head, keeping his eyes locked on hers as he leaned to catch her scent. She had a sweet scent, like night-blooming jasmine in the minutes before dawn. Beneath that was the sharp tang of female hormones associated with pregnancy. She couldn’t have transformed last week, not without putting her offspring in danger.

Brand settled back, annoyed. “You could have just told me.”

Her grin sharpened as she pulled down her sleeve. “Nowhere near as fun as watching you bow over my hand.”

He didn’t succeed in swallowing the growl that leapt from his throat, though he tried. The surge of his power came unbidden as he reached for her wrist.

She chuckled low, her eyes darkening to black in response. “When you take your proper place as king, you won’t have to tolerate my taunting. That will be a great day.”

Brand released her, revulsion tumbling through him. “Never. I’ve told you that before.”

“A crown for the taking and you won’t bend your neck enough to have it placed on your head.” She backed away a step, shaking her head.

Taking that crown involved becoming the monster his sire had been, but he didn’t want to have that discussion. “I believe that red wolf was Arnbjörn.”

Bera folded her arms across her chest. “I find that difficult to believe. My sire forbade him from coming.”

“Arn’s not known for being level-headed, or for letting an insult pass. I thought he would have come before now, regardless of Björn’s wishes.”

Her head tilted to one side. “So why would he come now?”

Brand offered a bitter smile and shrugged. “Maybe he got tired of following directions.” He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “I need your help to find him.”

“The attack was him venting frustration over not being able to find Alice.” Bera twisted a lock of red hair between two of her fingers. “Since he’s not smart enough to figure out where she is, he’ll be looking for another outlet for his anger before long. Find a place he’d look for prey and you’ll find him.”

The idea that Arn might be out hunting another victim drove Brand to his feet. Bloody images of the state he’d found Alice in flickered through Brand’s mind, and he pushed them away. He couldn’t afford the distraction. He stalked toward the entryway, a list of likely places already taking form.

“Brand,” Bera called and the urgency of her tone made him turn back to her. “Take care in how you deal with him. My sire despises you, and Arn is his favorite.” The harsh consonants of the Norse language added weight to her warning.

“He’s a beast, and it’s past time someone put him down.” Brand wrenched the door open and exited. Behind him, Bera swore.