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“What have you done with him?” Zaine bucked. “You hurt Mikalis and the full weight of the Brotherhood will come down on you! You aresofucked!”
Saint’s patience was wearing thin with this one. He lunged, grabbed him by the shirt, hauled him upright, and rattled him by the shirt. “Worry about yourself, little Viking. If it were up to me, you’d already be dust. And be fucking nice to Octavius.”
Zaine’s smirk said it all, and all of it was wrong. “Youwereworking together all this time. You got some kind of relationship going on?”
Saint rolled his eyes and pulled Zaine into the warehouse. Great stacks of felled trees were piled high and the rich smell of cut wood was almost too pungent. A giant kiln loomed off to the left, used for drying logs, and it just so happened to be a huge hunk of metal with a pressure-sealed door. Perfect for holding an angry nyktelios.
“Wait, what are you doing?” Zaine dug his heels into the woodchip-covered floor. “You got me. I’m not going to fight.”
Saint glanced at Octavius, checking he was happy to do this to one of his own. Octavius nodded and Saint let Zaine go.
Of course the idiot lunged for Octavius.
Saint was done with this shit. He plucked Zaine out of the air, tossed him into the kiln, slammed the door closed, and spun the lock. A few muffled clangs rang out from inside but otherwise, the door held.
“We don’t have time for this.” Octavius folded his arms. “We need to get him on our side, not turn him against us.”
“Give him a few minutes to cool off in there. Or we turn up the heat.” The controls looked simple enough. The big red ignition button was tempting.
“I’m not turning the kiln on. I don’t like him, but I don’t want to turn him to dust either. We need him.”
“I’m just pointing out it’s an option.”
A wave of dizziness washed over him. The floor tipped, the roof slid sideways, and Saint reached out for anything to help steady him. Octavius caught him, hands on Saint, his face in front of Saint’s, his eyes wide. He asked if Saint was all right, and it seemed as though Saint should reply, but the fight with Mikalis and his body’s efforts to heal had drained him.
He sank to his knees, and Octavius sank with him. Gods, he was pretty. Saint hadn’t cared to notice all the sharp angles of his face before, and how those soft lips were so quick to snarl. They weren’t snarling now.
“I’m all right.” He tried to brush him off, but missed, and dropped onto a hand instead.
“Mikalis did this.”
It wasn’t a question, so Saint didn’t reply. He rather liked the solid feel of Octavius’s hands on him, especially the one on his shoulder, propping him upright. He even liked how furious Octavius looked, knowing that fury wasn’t directed at him. It was sweet, seeing how the little wolf had gotten protective.
The warehouse had stopped spinning. “I’m good, I’ll be all right. I’ll feed from Jay later.”
Octavius hefted a sigh, then brought his wrist to his own lips and bit down. The sweet smell of his blood bloomed in the air, intoxicating and alluring. Saint knew what was happening, although he wasn’t sure he understood why Octavius was helping him. His blood wasn’t anywhere near the human blood he needed, but it would be enough to focus him and keep his instincts from doing something he couldn’t come back from, like kill Zaine.
Saint’s gaze caught Octavius’s, silently asking if he was sure. It was a risk. If Saint injected venom, it would kill Octavius, but he wasn’t so far gone as to lose control just yet.
Octavius nodded, and that was all the permission Saint needed. He grabbed his arm and clamped his teeth into his warm wrist. Blood spilled over Saint’s tongue, smooth and thick. Octavius threw his head back, closed his eyes, and went very, very still.
He’d be all right. Saint needed this.
He tasted like an aged wine, hidden away for decades. More than that, he tasted right, as though his blood belonged to Saint and was already a part of him. He couldn’t explain it, and didn’t care to as the blood fed the starved parts of him, the wild, rabid parts, sating the ravenous monster within. He wanted more, so much more; he wanted to push Octavius onto his back, straddle him, and sink his teeth into his neck.More. He wanted to spread his legs, go down on him, make him moan, make him unravel.More. He wanted to feel Octavius’s nails dig into his back, wanted to feel his body tremble, taste his cum, wanted all of him under him, wanted to be inside him, have him inside Saint.
“That’s enough!” Octavius tore his arm free. He licked the wound clean, then raised those furious eyes back to Saint.
Lust and mischief tingled through Saint. Goddamn, he needed Octavius in his arms, right now, here on the warehouse floor, where they’d fuck and bite and Octavius’s little wolf claws would sink into Saint—
Octavius hurried toward the kiln. He spun the lock and flung open the door. “Z, get out here.”
Zaine ducked through the doorway and narrowed his eyes on Saint, still sitting on the floor, then flicked his gaze to Octavius. He sniffed, scenting blood, and probably a whole lot of other things.
The Viking straightened, studied them both, and said, “I don’t know what the fuck the both of you are playing at but Mikalis will end you for this.”
Octavius grabbed a nearby metal chair from a conveyor belt workstation and dumped it on the floor between the three of them. “Sit your ass down.”
Zaine snarled at it.
