“It’s okay, Angel. We have you, now,” he whispers into the curve of my neck. “You’re safe with us. We won’t let anything happen to you.”
And as much as I know it’s not true, that this male couldn’t possibly promise me that—not after everything I just witnessed from Aamon—I want to believe it. So I do. I close my eyes and let the horrors of this world drift away, breathing in his earthy scent along with the hope and acceptance and safety he offers.
Igo straight to the fridge, grabbing a bag of blood and not even stopping to close the door before marching right up to Aamon and shoving it at his chest.
“Eat,” I order. And there’s shock in his eyes. He’s not used to taking orders from me. Nor am I used to dishing them out. But he’s out of control. And if it was anything else, I’d let him work it out on his own. Let him tear apart the whole fucking Blood Order for all I care. But I can’t stand to see what he’s putting himself through. It’s been Aamon’s battle for as long as I can remember, punishing himself for a nature he didn’t choose. Like he’s ashamed of what we are.
Me? I revel in what the Arcane gave me. I was dying inside the MidLands. An orphan on the streets, fighting to find my next meal, or even a shelter to sleep in. I was nothing. No one.
But then I was touched by the Arcane and I’d never tasted a power so sweet, so strong. I didn’t even wait for Raziel and the Watchers to find me and exile me. I left the city on my own—willingly walked into the lion’s den in hopes they would accept me.
I was young, but not as young as Aamon was when he joined the Blood Order. He was my saving grace. Andras and his club would have thrown me out without spending even a second worrying over the decision. Or killed me for having the audacity to show up here at all. But Aamon and I found something within each other. It was the first time I think either of us knew such a thing could exist. An opportunity to not feel so alone, an opportunity for friendship unlike anything we’d ever had before.
And for whatever godsforsaken reason, Andras listened to him. Let me in.
And now Evangeline is here and I can already tell Aamon has caught her scent. Whether he will admit it or not, he’s drawn to her. And the idea of that excites something in me. It feels like it did all those years ago when I showed up on his doorstep. Like there’s an opportunity here that I can’t let pass. And I won’t let him burn whatever this could be to the ground before we even give it a fucking chance.
I fight the urge to wince at the thought, hating how one girl has worked her way under my skin so easily and in such little time. Half a fuck and I’m already hooked. I need more, Icraveit. There’s something about her, somethingunlike I’ve ever tasted before. Sterling senses it too. I can tell by the way he’s already glued to her side, how he’s so protective over her despite only knowing her for half a day. And I’m wondering for the first time in a long time if we could maybe have something worth building here. Something different.
Aamon’s shock gives way to irritation as he stares me down. But he must see the intent in my eyes because he doesn’t argue as he takes the bag and tears into the plastic. Blood trickles over the sides as he sucks it down, marking his fingers and dripping onto the carpet.
“Happy?” he asks when he’s done, letting the ripped bag fall to the floor. His lips and teeth are stained crimson, and he sneers, giving me a perfect view. My eyes hook on the sight and I lick my lips. “Or would you prefer I drain the whole fucking fridge?” He steps forward, letting his form loom over me—despite the fact that we are nearly the same height.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I ask, shaking my head.
“You want me to play nice? To not inhibit your opportunity for a piece of ass, Quentin?” He cocks his head in challenge. But I don’t back down. “My apologies if Order business takes priority over your extracurriculars. Go find a different whore to fuck within the Market Ebon.”
My eyes flare wide, my body tensing as I try to resist taking his bait. “Bullshit. This isn’t Order business, Aamon.This isn’t some intricate plot to infiltrate our ranks. This is your fucked up head making problems where there are none.”
My gaze cuts to Zeke. He’s taken up residence against the wall that opens up into the common room from the hallway, no doubt waiting for Sterling to join us. “Tell him I’m right,” I urge him. But I know it’s a lost cause. Zeke isn’t the kind to get involved in this shit.
“This is none of my business,” he drawls, unbothered. He doesn’t even look up at me when he answers, and I roll my eyes in frustration.
“Quinn,” Aamon half growls, half yells, bringing my attention back to him. “She’s the daughter of the High Quarter Alpha. We throw her out, we lose a valuable opportunity to learn more about Raziel’s network. We accept her, we risk being played by the High Quarter Alpha. Or worse, we risk his anger when he realizes his daughter suffered at the extent of our carelessness. Not to mention the reaction of the ungoverned district when they find out we are housing the daughter of our number one enemy. Meanwhile all you can think about is how you can fuck her. This is the definition of Order business and I won’t let you and Sterling fuck up such a delicate situation because neither of you know how to keep it in your pants.”
I fold my arms over my chest, narrowing my gaze at him. “Do you truly think Raziel wouldwillinglysend her here? What, to fuck us? To spy on us? To sneak around onthe off chance she can find anything worthwhile out and somehow smuggle it back to him? After everything their kind has done tonotinteract with ours?” I shake my head, scoffing. “Even you can’t be that thick.”
I turn to walk away, but jolt forward as his hands come down on me. His strength is fueled by the blood now pumping through his body, his appetite momentarily sated enough to give him the ability to focus his power elsewhere. I fly forward, sprawling out on the ground, and turn to glare back up at Aamon, bewildered. “Did you just fucking shove me?”
“So what if I did?” He shrugs.
“You are such a child, Aamon,” I seethe.
Aamon opens his mouth to argue, but he doesn’t get the chance. I blink, and Sterling is suddenly on him, rabid.
“Sterling!” I shout. And even Zeke has left his spot on the wall, rushing forward to pull him off Aamon. Or perhaps to lend Sterling a hand. I can’t tell. Either way Sterling is wailing on Aamon, throwing punch after punch and pinning him to the wood panel wall at the far end of the common space. Aamon should be able to break free easily, should be fighting back at all. But he isn’t.
“You foolish, arrogant ass!” Sterling’s hands wrap around Aamon’s throat. Aamon’s eyes cut to mine over Sterling’s shoulder as I jump to my feet, and I can tell in the look that passes between us he doesn’t want me to intervene. And normally I would oblige, normally I would rely on the factthat Aamon hasn’t met a creature he couldn’t take down in a fight. But the way he’s refusing to lift a finger, to raise a fist, has my gut churning.
“Sterling,” Zeke growls under his breath in warning. He’s beside him now, just off to the side. His eyes flicker between Sterling and Aamon, trying to decide which he should go after.
“You don’t harm her again, do you understand me, Aamon? You do not fucking touch her.”
Alarms ring in my mind. While Aamon may have placated me and my order for him to feed, I know he won’t extend the same courtesy towards Sterling. They aren’t blood bound and Sterling has no business trying to give our leader an order like that. The four of us are close. As close as members of the Blood Order can be. But there’s a hierarchy we follow, one that vampires take rather seriously. And Sterling just got Aamon’s full attention by disrespecting it.
And sure enough, that’s all it takes for Aamon to send Sterling flying. He soars backwards, landing hard atop the coffee table and shattering the wood beneath his force. “Don’t you fucking dare tell me what to do,” Aamon spits. He lands a challenging look at Zeke, knowing the male is debating standing up for Sterling. But to my surprise, Zeke doesn’t move. Just clenches his fists at his side as he fixes Aamon with the same bitter glare.
Sterling struggles to get up, crawling out of the pile of old, splintered wood and dragging himself back to hisfeet. “She’s not here to spy on us,” he says through ragged breaths.
