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“I thought he’s significantly older than both you and Malachi.”
“He is.” Wolf shrugs. “But he didn’t get that stick up his ass until a little over a century ago.”
It doesn’t take a genius to put the puzzle pieces together. If I have my dates right, that’s around the time of his falling out with Malachi and Wolf. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“He used to be wilder.” He repeats and gives a happy sigh. “We had so much sex, love. The three of us and others we invited in. It was a wonderfully endless bacchanal for years.”
“Again, what does that have to do with anything?”
His grin goes wide and sinful. “In all those years, I only saw him lose control of his shape when he was with Malachi and me. Only us. Never when someone else was involved.”
Something goes strange in my chest, but I don’t know enough to identify the emotion. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
“Doesn’t it?” Another of those careless shrugs. “If you say so.”
Malachi and Rylan are almost to the house, which is almost enough to distract me from how this conversation has gone off the rails. “Why shouldn’t I learn to shield, Wolf?”
“Oh. That.” He palms my breasts. “It’s a protective measure.”
“Excuse me?”
“When you have strong emotional spikes, all three of us feel it. Knowing when you’re afraid or angry is incredibly useful on that note.”
Part of me can see his point, but I’m not willing to concede. “Maybe if you chose it. You didn’t, so it’s invasive as hell.”
“Probably.” He slides his hands down my sides, his fingers unerringly finding the spots where Rylan impaled me. “Doesn’t mean it’s not useful. We’ve got to keep you alive and all that.”
“Wolf—”
Movement on the other side of the blood ward. Malachi and Rylan appear. They’re covered in blood and look like something out of a horror movie. I gasp, but Wolf tightens his grip, holding me in place. “Took you long enough.”
Malachi lifts his hand. The air wavers a little in front of his palm, and he recoils. “What is this, Wolf? Let us in.”
“What’s the password?”
“Wolf.”
He continues to hold me immobile, his handsome face contemplative. “It occurs to me that you two could have been taken by Cornelius. His Bloodline power is glamour, after all. It would be child’s play to mimic your bodies and voices and come back here to attack us.”
All that is true, but it doesn’t account for the fact that I know it’s them. I grab his wrists and squeeze. “It’s them. My father might be able to fool our senses, but he can’t fool the bond.”
He grins like I’m a student who’s said something impressive. “Exactly. It’s almost as if the bond does have its uses.”
Damn it, I walked right into that. “Even if it does, I’m still going to learn to shield.”
“That’s up for debate.” He finally releases me and snaps his fingers. I feel the moment the blood ward goes down. It’s almost like a popping in my ears; strange, but not uncomfortable.
Malachi stumbles a little as he steps into the room and true panic takes wing inside me. I push Wolf’s hands away and tug my dress back into place. “You’re hurt.”
“I’m fine.” His actions give lie to his words as Rylan ducks beneath his arm and takes the weight of the bigger vampire. “They were more prepared than we expected.”
“My father is a monster, but he’s no fool.”
“Yes. Which means we need to move and quickly. The more distance we put between the group we just removed and the hounds he’ll send next, the better.” He looks around the living room as if seeing it for the first time. “What’s that smell?”
“Brimstone.” Rylan makes a sound suspiciously close to a snarl. “What did you do, Wolf?”
“Who, me?” Wolf pulls on his pants slowly. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re speaking of.”
Both Rylan and Malachi go still. Malachi tries to straighten, but he tips to the side and Rylan has to catch him before he falls. I rush to them. “You need blood.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re about to take a nonconsensual nap, and you just said we need to run.” I glance at Rylan. “Please put him on the couch.”
For once, Rylan does what I ask without arguing. He guides Malachi to the couch and eases him down. After the briefest hesitations while I figure out the best way to do this, I simply climb into his lap and pull my hair off one side of my neck. “Drink.”
“You almost died last night. I’m not drinking from you right now.”
“Malachi, shut up and drink.” I dig my hands into his hair and guide his face to my throat. It’s a token of how injured he is that he doesn’t fight me. I flinch a little as his teeth sink into my skin, but then there’s only pleasure.
