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Octavius sighed his relief. Somehow, he’d survive this mess.
Saint reached down, hauled Jayden to his feet, and tucked the feeder against his side. “You’re coming with us, Octavius,” he called back as the pair hobbled toward the car parked on the driveway.
Octavius shivered out the last tremors of desire. He could run, but Saint would stalk him through the shadows. He’d never make it.
He was a prisoner, he realized. Saint’s prisoner.
The plan hadn’t changed. He’d just need to be more careful with the killing blow and take Saint out decisively. No more mistakes.
He’d still kill Saint, if it was the last act for the Brotherhood he ever performed.
CHAPTER5
Saint
On the one hand,Octavius deserved to die a long, slow, painful death for attempting to kill them. On the other hand, he’d saved Jay’s life. This was a dilemma, and after multiple millennia, not much surprised Saint anymore. Except Octavius. The Brotherhood member was a baffling and alluring tangle of contradictions. He seemed to be devoted to the Brotherhood, yet he’d just broken one of their cardinal rules.
He stewed in silence in the passenger seat, while Jay lay sprawled along the back seat, sleeping off the trauma.
Someone would have seen and heard the explosion, even in as remote a place as the Missouri forests. Saint needed to get some space between them and suspicious human authorities, but also get away from St. Louis, where he’d left Mikalis scraping himself off the road.
Not a pleasant memory. Not something he wanted to dwell on.
They had a few hours until dawn. He’d have to find somewhere before then to wait out the day.
He pulled the car to the edge of the mountain road.
“Why are you stopping?” Octavius asked, his voice tight with accusation. He talked like that a lot, as though every moment he spent in Saint’s presence was a disgusting stain on his perfect life. But a few softer moments peeked through, such as when he’d told Saint that Jay would live. Damnit, Saint wanted to hate him, and everything he stood for, but couldn’t; he’d been the one to save Jay.
“Changing my clothes.”
“At the side of the road?”
“Where else?” Saint opened the car door, climbed out, and hurried to the trunk. He always packed an emergency bag for moments such as these.
He grabbed a blanket from the trunk, opened the rear door, and tucked it over Jay. He stirred but didn’t wake. His hair had melted in places, glued together, and Saint was struck again by how close he’d come to losing him.
Saint looked up and caught Octavius watching in the mirror. Saint bared his teeth in warning.
“I’m not going to touch your feeder, Jesus,” Octavius grumbled.
After returning to the trunk, Saint stripped off his shredded clothing. That was one of the many good reasons to always wear a suit. The shirt or pants were easily replaceable. “You should know, I predate Jesus by several thousand years.”
Octavius snorted and muttered, “Don’t we all?”
He was a sassy one, this little wolf. A lot of bark, and a vicious bite. Perhaps Saint might relish seeing more of that bite as soon as they were safely sheltered from the sun. And Octavius had no idea just how old Saint was. Which was probably a good thing. People behaved differently around him once they knew the truth.
Cool mountain air swirled around his naked legs. He reached into the trunk for the pants and caught Octavius watching in the side mirror. Saint tugged his pants up his legs, making sure to give him a fine view of his bare ass, and then he fastened the zipper.
When he glanced back, Octavius had turned his face away.
The little wolf had been aroused when feeding Jay, and after, when Saint had warned him. None of that was unusual behavior. Feeding was intimate. What had been unusual was his fear of it, of losing control. That was the Brotherhood’s doing. Octavius and the rest were as brainwashed as Nyxians, except the Brotherhood worshipped Mikalis, not Nyx.
None of it mattered anyway.
All of it would be gone soon. The Brotherhood, the people, all of it.
He slammed the trunk, buttoned his shirt, and climbed back behind the wheel.
