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Nick ran a hand through his hair. "And, what? If you get mad enough at me, I'll stop having the feelings for Mom and Grandma that you don't want me to have?"

"Are you proud of what you just did there? Feeling clever, are we?"

Anger welled up within him, such as he'd never felt. He'd been frustrated with his sister before. Exasperated even. But never this.

"Vee," he said, taking her hand in his. "Won't you just please forgive me?"

As he spoke, he reached inside her Libido. Delicately. The thinnest of streamers, floating quickly and lightly through her. Dispersing negative energy. Sapping her anger.

With a sweet smile that wasn't her own, Veronica said, "How could I stay mad at you, baby?" With that, she kissed his lips.

Guilt seeped through Nick like blood in water. A sharp stab, followed by a slow spread of probing tendrils that became an ever-expanding crimson cloud.

He had just made his sister a puppet. Or might as well have. Robbed her of her own emotions. Forced her to feel what he wanted her to feel, because he was scared of the things he himself was feeling. Because it was easier than talking through their problems.

For a moment, he considered undoing it. But he wasn't sure he knew how. It had mostly only been due to chance that his effort to defuse her temper had succeeded in the first place. And if he could make her angry again, how would that absolve him of the sin of manipulating his sister's emotions? She'd still only be feeling what he'd made her feel.

Of course, he knew full well that this was probably one of those few instances where two wrongs did indeed make a right. He was fooling himself by pretending that the nobler thing to do was to keep her on this new, artificial course.

Still, he chose not to do anything.

Because, after all, he was nothing like his father.

"Let's go make up, hmm?" Veronica said, wiggling her eyebrows at him.

"I like the sound of that," he said, grinning at her.

And he did.

Damn if it didn't make him a selfish, spineless, manipulative, non-confrontational shit, but he did. Nothing hurt him more than fighting with his sister. Seeing her in pain as a result of his actions. Or inaction, or whatever it was exactly that had set her off this time. This was wrong. Seven different kinds of wrong. But something about it felt very, very right.

#

There. Just beyond the hilltop. A flash of blonde hair, visible for a fraction of a second.

The lion raced across the field.

Eric felt a thrill course through him as he closed in on his prey. His cousin was rapidly honing her talents. Abundant as her raw power was, Olivia had been a formidable adversary from the outset. Now that they'd been training together for a few days, though, he genuinely couldn't be sure that he'd come out on top. Soon enough, she'd be pushing him to new limits, rather than it being the other way around.

As he crested the hilltop, he pounced.

And landed in a prison cell. Wearing his human form.

The pain of his hard fall drained away easily enough, once he put his mind to it. But the confusion did not. Was this the new technique Liv had said she'd been working on? A trap like the one that Nina had freed them from the day her father had died?

"That was rude of me," a woman's voice said. "Sorry about that. I just can't seem to find a time when you're alone. And it's really important that we talk."

He'd never heard that voice before. If he had, he'd have remembered it. It oozed sex. Sparked desire as surely as a match does fire.

Eric turned to see who it belonged to, and his eyes went wide.

The woman standing by the bars of his cell didn't have the look Eric tended to go for.

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