Trez swiveled his chair around so he could face the male. “I hadn’t really thought about it one way or the other.”

I’ve been too busy playing out what drowning would be like, he added to himself. Shit gets so hectic during this human Christmas season, dontcha know.

But as he considered his former boss, he supposed the guy had to still be on the sauce, so to speak. Symphaths were known to get into things like other people’s emotions, and never in a good way, never in a therapeutic, supportive fashion, more like a shove-you-off-your-ledge way. They were a subspecies that you didn’t want to show your underbelly to, although the prejudice they’d been subjected to hadn’t been right, either.

When Rehv had been out in the world more, he’d taken dopamine as a way to regulate himself so that his bad side stayed under wraps and his true identity remained hidden. It had been the only way for him to seem like he was just the same as everyone else. And after he was mated? Apparently, he kept on using the stuff.

Trez shrugged. “I guess I am a little surprised you’re still dosing. I mean, everyone knows what you are. Everyone who matters, that is.”

And more than that, he had forged a political alliance with Wrath. He was super safe.

“It goes deeper than suppressing my identity,” Rehv murmured. “My instincts are much more controllable now, it’s true. My love for Ehlena is responsible for that. So are my relationships with Wrath and the Brotherhood. I am what I am, however, and if I’m going to live my fullest life with my shellan and allies, I want to be able to focus on things other than just curtailing my difficult side.”

“Okay.”

Trez ground his molars. He had no idea where this was going, and the fact that he didn’t really care seemed like one more thing to add to his long list of losses. He and Rehv went way too far back for him to push the guy out, especially as Trez couldn’t remember when they had sat down together last. Grief changed your priorities, however.

He thought of sitting in his BMW, out in the cold, getting buried in snow.

“So I was talking to my Ehlena,” Rehv continued, “about some pharmaceutical options for you.”

Trez jerked forward. “Excuse me?”

“I wanted to see if you could get some help.” Rehv’s amethyst eyes swung over. “To see if you can find some relief, as I have.”

An irrational anger curled in Trez’s gut. “I’m not a symphath.”

“You’re suffering.”

“My shellan fucking died. You think I should be throwing a party?”

“I know where you’ve been going,” Rehv said calmly.

“To work, here, every night. Yeah. So—”

“In your mind.” Rehv touched the center of his chest. “Symphath, remember? I can read your grid. You’re getting worse and not better—”

Trez burst to his feet and headed for the exit, opening the door. “I gotta get back to work. Thanks for stopping by. Tell Ehlena hi—”

The door slammed shut on him, the knob ripped from his hand, the lights flickering throughout the office.

In a low, evil voice, Rehv said, “Sit the fuck down. This conversation is not a two-way.”

Trez pivoted around. His former employer, one of his best friends, was looming beside the desk, his purple eyes flashing, the tremendous bulk of his body seeming to have gotten even bigger. It was a reminder that even though the big bastard was a happily mated male who had settled down, Rehv was still the kind of force you didn’t want to cross.

“I know where you’ve been going,” Rehv said in that symphath voice. “Down by the river. I know what you think about when you’re behind the wheel of your car. I can see your emotional grid collapsing, and I am very well aware of your sudden fondness for cold fucking water.”

Well, Trez thought. Put like that, what could he say? Disneyland?

Rehv pointed his cane at Trez. “Do you think I have any interest in living the rest of my nights in regret after I know all this and do nothing? Huh? You think that’s a burden I want to strap on and carry around with me until I die?”

Trez cursed and paced around. On his second trip back and forth to the bathroom, he found himself wishing his office was big as a football field.

“In light of the way I use dopamine,” Rehv continued, “I went to Ehlena and asked her if there was anything that could help you. An antidepressant. Or what I’m on. I don’t fucking know. I don’t know how it works. She said you should come talk to her and Jane—”

“No!” Trez put his hands up to his head and prayed he didn’t get another one of his migraines. Holding in the urge to scream was a helluva trigger. “I’m not going on some kind of drug—”

“—to see what your options are.” Rehv raised his voice, talking right over the protests. “And get an assessment. They may be able to help you.”

Trez sat his ass down on the sofa because he didn’t trust himself not to try to push Rehv through the glass behind the desk. Then again, there was no possibility of him pulling a sneak attack. That symphath sonofabitch no doubt knew he had switched from suicidal to homicidal, and there was only one other bag of carbon-based molecules in the room to target that impulse on.

“Listen to me,” Rehv said in a softer voice. “All those nights I had to go up to that cabin, you were with me. You were there. You protected me and you saved my life too many times to count.”

“I owed you,” Trez countered bitterly. “I was servicing my debt.”

“That wasn’t all there was to it. And don’t lie just because you’re pissed at me for calling you on your shit. I can read your grid.”

“Please stop saying that.”

“It’s the truth.”

“I know and that’s why I don’t want to hear it.” Trez looked over. “I get that you think you’re helping, and thanks for that. But I just want some privacy, okay?”

“So you can kill yourself in peace?”

“It’s my life to take,” he said roughly. “You have your own life and it’s a good one. You’ll get over it.”

Rehv’s brows came down hard. “Like you’re getting over Selena so well? How’s that party you’re throwing, to borrow your phrase?”

“She was my shellan. I was just a friend to you.”

“Bullshit. You’re my family. You’re iAm’s blooded brother. And you’re also family to a whole shitload of people who would suffer like hell if anything happened to you. And cut the shit with the past tense, asshole. You’re still breathing—at least until I choke some sense into you.”

Trez held that purple stare, which was every bit as angry as he himself was feeling, and as he considered where they were both at, he was really glad they hadn’t taken out their weapons. Yet.

Except then he laughed… or Jesus, maybe it was more of a giggle.

And the levity came from God only knew where. Someplace even deeper than his grief, he supposed. But as the totally inappropriate sound came up his tight throat, he didn’t have a chance in hell of keeping it in.

“You have such a way with interventions,” Trez said as he tried to cough himself back to being serious. “I mean, there’s tough love, and then there’s the symphath version of it. Did you just call me an asshole while you’re trying to get me not to shoot myself in the head?”