House of Sky and Breath (Crescent City #2) by Sarah J. Maas

But Prince Ruhn’s house was cool. It reminded him of the apartment Connor and Bronson and Thorne once had—a few blocks from here, actually: crappy old furniture, stained walls with posters of sports teams taped on them, an overly large TV, and a fully stocked bar.

He hadn’t minded crashing on the couch last night. Would have slept on the porch, if it meant being far away from where Bryce and Hunt slept together.

The clock beneath the TV read seven in the morning when Ithan rose and showered. He helped himself to Tristan Flynn’s array of fancy shampoos and body products, all marked FLYNN’S. DO NOT TOUCH, RUHN. I MEAN IT THIS TIME.

Ruhn had written beneath the scribbling on one of the bottles: NO ONE LIKES YOUR WEIRD SHAMPOO ANYWAY.

Flynn had scrawled, right along the bottom edge of the bottle, THEN WHY IS IT NEARLY EMPTY? AND WHY IS YOUR HAIR SO SHINY? ASSHOLE!!!

Ithan had snickered, even as his heart squeezed. He’d had that kind of dynamic once with his brother.

His brother, who was either already turned into secondlight—or on his way there.

The thought had any rising interest in breakfast melting into nausea. By the time Ithan had dressed and gone downstairs—the three Fae males who lived in the house were still asleep—he’d raised his phone to his ear.

Hey, this is Tharion, if you can’t get me, send an otter.

All right, then.

An hour later, after a quick check of the program scanning the gallery footage for Danika, Ithan had headed for the Istros, grabbing an iced coffee on his way. He suppressed a smile as he handed over a silver mark to a whiskery otter whose name tag on his yellow vest said Fitzroy. Ithan parked his ass on a bench beside the Istros and stared across the river.

He’d wanted to fight Sabine last night. Had actually contemplated how her blood would taste when he ripped out her throat with his teeth, but … the Helhound’s words lingered.

Connor had been an Alpha who’d accepted the role of Second because he’d believed in Danika’s potential. Ithan had fallen in with Amelie’s pack because he’d had nowhere else to go.

But last night, just for a moment, when Bryce had stepped up and the two of them had Sabine backing away … he’d remembered what it’d been like. To not only be a wolf in a pack, but a player on a team, working in unison, as if they were one mind, one soul.

Never mind that he’d once thought of himself and Bryce that way.

The fucking Hind could go to Hel. He had no idea how she’d pieced that together, but he’d kill her if she ever mentioned it to anyone again. Especially Bryce.

It was no one’s business but his, and it was ancient history now anyway. He’d had two years without Bryce to sort his shit out, and being near her again had been … hard, but he’d never told anyone about his feelings before Connor died, and he sure as Hel wasn’t going to start now.

The Hind had been right, though: he’d walked into Connor’s dorm that day early in his brother’s freshman year at CCU, intending to meet the awesome, gorgeous, hilarious hallmate Con talked about endlessly. And on his way down the dingy, carpeted hall, he’d run into … well, an awesome, gorgeous, hilarious hallmate.

He’d been struck stupid. She was the hottest person he’d ever seen, no joke. Her smile had warmed some gods-forsaken place in Ithan’s chest that had been icy and dark since his parents had died, and those whiskey eyes had seemed to … see him.

Him, not the sunball player, not the star athlete or anything like that. Just him. Ithan.

They spoke for ten minutes in the hall without exchanging names. He’d just been Connor’s little brother, and she hadn’t given her name and he’d forgotten to ask for it, but by the time Connor poked his head into the hall, Ithan had decided he was going to marry her. He’d attend CCU, play sunball for them and not Korinth U, who’d already been wooing him, and he’d find this girl and marry her. He suspected they might even be mates, if he was right about that gut tug toward her. And that would be that.

Then Connor had said, “Looks like you met Ithan already, Bryce,” and Ithan had wanted to dissolve into that disgusting dorm carpet.

He knew it was fucking stupid. He’d spoken to Bryce for ten minutes before finding out she was the girl his brother was obsessed with, but … it had messed with him. So he’d thrown himself into the role of irreverent friend, pretended to be into Nathalie so he had something to complain to Bryce about. He’d suffered on the sidelines watching Connor tiptoe around Bryce for years.

He’d never told Bryce that the reason why Connor had finally asked her out that night was because Ithan had told him to shit or get off the pot.

Not in those terms, and he’d said it without raising his brother’s suspicions, as he’d always done when talking about Bryce, but he’d had it. Had just had it with his brother hesitating while Bryce dated a string of losers.

If Connor didn’t step up to the line, then Ithan had decided he’d finally come forward. Take a gamble and see if that spark between them might lead somewhere.

But Bryce had said yes to Connor. And then Connor had died.

And while Connor was being murdered, she’d been fucking someone else in the White Raven bathroom.

Ithan had no idea how there wasn’t some black hole where he’d been standing the moment he’d found out about that night. That was how hard he’d imploded, like the star he’d been gave the fuck up and bailed.