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But first, he needed to shower.
* * *
After showering himself clean,Octavius washed his clothes under the showerhead as best as he could, thinking over his options. The lobby had a phone out of earshot from Saint. He could call the Brotherhood and alert them to Saint’s whereabouts. Heshould. But blood was going to become an issue soon, and if he was going to risk clashing with the Brotherhood, he needed to be at full strength. Jayden had taken more out of him than he cared to admit. As had the previous night’s fight.
He'd survived these last six months without feeding from the vein like a nyk by breaking into hospitals and using his persuasion to manipulate the staff into bringing him blood bags. But there were no hospitals out here, and no convenient blood delivery without alerting the Brotherhood to his exact location.
He couldn’t drink from the vein. He couldn’t break more rules.
And it would be dawn soon anyway. He just had to ignore the gnawing hunger.
With a towel tucked around his waist, he padded into the main bedroom area and drew the drapes closed. The rooms, although small, were equipped with the basics. This might have been one of the better places he’d stayed in since running from the Brotherhood.
Octavius flopped back onto the bed.
If any of them found out he’d helped save a feeder, any bridges he’d had left would be burned. But it was all for the mission, and the mission was to bring in Saint.
The nyktelios was not what Octavius had expected, Saint was right about that. But hewasancient, and that meant he was clever, sly, and manipulative. It just appeared as though he was reasonable, when in fact, he was more a monster than any nyk Octavius had faced before. One thing was clear. He couldn’t bring Saint in alone. Despite his own strength, it wasn’t enough. He needed help.
But who to call? Kazimir rarely interacted with Octavius, too busy with his social life and sauntering around Atlas like a cockerel in a hen house. Zaine was out of the question, as Octavius had threatened his feeder Eric. Storm was Mikalis’s puppet. Octavius didn’t know how to get in touch with Aiko, and the stoic knife-thrower was usually in Europe anyway.
There was one person he could call, the same man who had told him to run.
Raiden.
Damn, he missed his friend.
Raiden had been the only one who understood him, understoodthem. They’d been close, closer than friends. Not sexually close. It wasn’t like that. Raiden listened, and he knew when to stay quiet too, when to give Octavius space; whenever the past had crept up on Octavius and tried to swallow him, Raiden had been there.
Sometimes, the world became too loud, too much, too cruel, and Octavius withdrew inward. The last time it had happened, a few hundred years ago, Raiden had been there to help pull him out of it.
And now, Raiden had given him a chance, told him to run, deliberately going against Mikalis’s orders. He might listen.
Octavius needed to get to a phone without Saint knowing. Once he made contact though, the clock would be ticking. If they were still in the Ozarks, then they were approximately a day’s drive away from New York, or a few hours by chopper. Mikalis didn’t even need a plane or helicopter to get where he needed to go. Like Saint, he shadow-walked. How far could he travel like that? He regularly bounced around cities in hours, but Octavius didn’t believe he could jump continents.
If Octavius reached out to Raiden, told him where Saint was in exchange for a truce with Mikalis, they’d have a few hours before Mikalis arrived, either by chopper or other means.
Voices rumbled from the adjacent room. Saint and Jayden. Jayden was awake then. Octavius closed his eyes and sighed, strangely calm. More calm than he’d been in days. Warm and sleepy too…
He opened his eyes. These weren’t his feelings. He sensed the feeder, as though Jayden were the other part of a magnet, pulling on Octavius. Damnit. The link would fade, just so long as they didn’t share blood again. Saint’s hold on the feeder would likely overpower any tenuous connection Octavius had.
The voices faded, and Octavius closed his eyes again, resting, mulling over what to do.
A warmth grew low down, a different kind of pull. It didn’t feel right, almost like nerves, but he rarely experienced anxiety. Was there something wrong with him? Then the feeling shifted and rolled down his back like warm hands. A sudden rush of lust awakened his cock and stole a gasp from his lips.
He snapped open his eyes.
Shit, he knew what this was.
He twisted on the bed and thumped the wall.
Jayden’s muffled voice sailed through from the other side, the mumbles garbled.
Octavius bowed his head. “I feel you,”he sent to Jayden.And then wished he hadn’t as a sharper thrust of lust lit him on fire and hardened him still. Damn them. Were they doing this on purpose? He couldn’t stand having his body hijacked because they wanted to fuck. Couldn’t they keep their hands off each other for a few days?
The interconnecting door floor open and Saint charged in. “Get out of Jay’s head…” He trailed off as his gaze traveled all the way down Octavius’s chest, over his abs, and hung up on how his cock tented the towel around his waist.
Octavius gave the nyk a droll look. “It’s not by choice I’m in his head.”
