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“Superb, exquisite, ravishing, spellbinding—” Asha presses her index against Orson’s lips.
“Thank you, Orson, but the stunned look on your face is enough.”
His cheeks flush. “Beautiful.”
She gives him a soft peck, then one to both of us, before stepping back to review our presentation. “So handsome,” she says, her eyes sparkling. “Tuxedos suit you well.”
If only this was an actual ball. I think of the violence to come and it taints the moment. Asha spies the dark cloud overhanging me, and steps in to banish it with a kiss. But when we separate, I see its mirror image held aloft by her own reserve. I clasp her face between my hands. “No tragedies tonight.”
Her voice quavering, she replies, “I don’t think you can make that promise, Max.”
Yet, I’m making it to you. No matter what I have to do, I’m going to make sure you all leave safely. “At the first sign of real trouble, we abort.”
The dog chimes in with a soft ruff. “Not you, Trouble,” says Braxton, slackening the tension. “You have a new bone to focus on. That’s your responsibility.”
His teasing tone doesn’t distract me from my message. We all need to be on the same page. They need to understand. Things will only get worse if I call for a retreat and one of us doesn’t listen. I wouldn’t trade our team for anything, but I haven’t properly trained them to understand how important it is to obey. Obeying a line of command keeps you alive, when you have the right commander.
And I’m the right commander for us. I think. I hope.
“Seriously.” I stare into her honey brown eyes. “We’re all walking out of there. And not a scratch on you.” I flick my gaze south to her dress. “Or this hot number. I want it to look just like this when I rip it off you later.”
There, who says I’m all Enforcer?
“Hey, now,” Braxton protests, grinning. “Who says you get the privilege?”
“It would be a shame to see something so trivial come between brothers.” Orson feigns sincerity as he drops a hand on my shoulder, then Braxton’s, passing his gaze between us. “Which is why it is I who will do the ripping.”
Some of the worry fades from Asha’s face, and she smiles. The kind of smile that men move mountains for. “Maybe it can be a Thanksgiving wishbone type deal,” Asha offers. “You all grab hold at the same time, then tear. The man who comes away with the most fabric gets the first kiss.”
Her words settle between us. When Asha’s calm, we’re all calm. She’s the connection between us all.
“See, that’s thinking,” says Braxton. “Our mate’s one-of-a-kind.”
“A wise solution,” Orson agrees, and his gaze holds a lifetime of love as it falls on her.
The light mood belies the night’s grave task. When Asha glances at the clock, its hands read 7:42 and it’s a reminder of what we must do. Her expression rearranges, not quite dour, something closer to determination.
“Are we all ready, then?” Braxton asks, giving Trouble a little pet, before handing the dog his bone once more.
It felt like it, but I was forgetting something. Something important.
“Before we go,” she says, hesitantly, “I should probably feed.”
Yes, of course, that was in. Her magic is integral to our plan. She needs to be properly fed, so her magic will be at its most powerful.
“And leave you guys a little time to eat and rest before we go,” she adds.
I look at my brother and then Orson, who then look at each other before loosening their collars. Asha approaches me first, but before I offer my throat up to her canines, I reiterate my stance. “You’ve given enough, Asha. Don’t give the little you have left.” Between the words is my plea that she not martyr herself.
She nods in understanding. I hold her gaze in the hopes that my urgency transfers. I mean it, Asha. I refuse to lose you. She hovers close, heat from her breath spilling along the slope of my neck. The tips of her sharpened teeth at first graze the flesh, then sink in a swift plunge, like getting a shot. The pinch gives way to titillation, a thousand ants tap dancing beneath the flesh around the wound, their number doubling with every passing second until the feeling envelops me. My whole body slips into a state of deep relaxation and pleasure.
Though past feedings have precipitated sexual encounters, we’re all business tonight. When she finishes with me, she moves onto my brother, then Orson, each in turn allowing the pleasure to pass through them, then in its wake steeling themselves for the action to come.
As the blood makes its way back into my brain, I turn to the others. “Ready?”
Asha smiles. “First, eat and rest, then we go.”
I don’t argue, because, like I said, this isn’t going to be a suicide mission for us. We’re going to go in strong, no matter what it takes, and we’re going to survive.
