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“You’re allowed to like it,” he said. “But you need to work on not feeling guilty when you feed from me, when I’m fairly certain it was always supposed to be like this.”
He was right. Again. “It’s going to take a while to get used to it. I’ve spent a really long time despising this.”
“Like I said, we’ll work on it, with a whole lot of sex.”
“I like the sound of that.” Saint’s gravelly timbre filled the big room. “Hm, ice cream.”
Octavius twisted in the chair to see Saint helping himself to the ice cream Jayden had left on the counter. He had that morning after, just fallen out of bed look that suited him so well, with his ruffled dark hair and always-bright eyes.
“Octavius says he wants to fuck the two of us,” Jayden said.
Octavius spluttered. “That’s not—I mean, I…”
Jay chuckled, Saint snorted, and Octavius found his own little laugh bubbling free.
“Good. This is us then.” Saint carried a bowl of ice cream to the couch and sat beside Jayden. “A threesome.”
Then Saint was open to the idea of a polyamorous relationship too. Of course he was, he was Saint.
If any in the Brotherhood could have seen Octavius now, sitting in a living room, eating ice cream with a feeder and the big bad nyktelios that had been locked away for centuries, what would they make of it?
They’d probably kill him.
Fuck.
He was never going to be a part of them again.
While Mikalis couldn’t personally hunt Octavius or Saint, he’d have the Brotherhood do it for him, and now, after Octavius had gotten inside his head, he’d double down on their efforts. Octavius now knew how the nyks felt, with the Brotherhood closing in.
All this time, they’d been wrong to kill all nyks with extreme prejudice.
“You get that look in your eye when you’re thinking about the Brotherhood,” Saint said, with his own kind of somber tone. “I know what it’s like, I—”
A tiny spot in the glass window behind Jayden cracked, like a growing spiderweb. It seemed strange, that little crack, as though appearing from nowhere. But in a moment between seconds, Saint moved so fast he blurred—grabbing Jayden and yanking him into his arms—and in the next split second, the vicious crack from a high-powered rifle shot split the air.
Saint and Jayden jerked, and Saint collapsed on the couch with Jayden in his arms.
It happened fast yet slowly too, as though Octavius were frozen, watching the horror unfold. He flew from the chair. Blood. He smelled it before seeing it and knew Jayden had been hit. A dark patch of blood spread on Jayden’s sweater, close to his heart. He gasped and wide, terrified eyes fixed on Octavius, begging for help.
Octavius grabbed his sweater, tore it open, and there was the perfect hole, just above his left nipple. Dark blood began to spill down his chest.
“Go!” Saint yelled, and at first, Octavius had no idea who Saint was ordering, because he wasn’t damn well leaving them.
“He’s hit.”
Saint shuffled upright, clutching Jayden to him. “l’ve got him, go!”
Go?
The shooter.
In the woods.
A marksman. A sniper.
Raiden.
Octavius’s fangs dropped. He’d kill the vicious, traitorous fiend! But Jayden… Octavius looked at Saint. He wanted to stay, to help, to make sure Jayden would be safe. That was his duty. Jayden was his too.
