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Thorne lifted a brow at him but didn’t do more than shrug as he settled Jeremiah in the back seat. Remi climbed in next to him, not touching him but watching his slow, even breathing. He had no idea why the hell he cared so much. No idea why it mattered, but he knew down to his damn soul that if someone tried to separate them before Jeremiah opened his eyes and Remi could know for certain he was fine, he would completely fall apart.
6
JEREMIAH
Even raised outside of a Hellhound pack, Jeremiah knew the dangers of holy water bombs. It was one of the few things that could kill him. He could sense it just before the attack, and he’d prepared himself to die in the line of fire but hoping to take out the attackers with him.
It wouldn’t have mattered if he had perished, so long as Remi and the twins were safe.
But when the water hit him, it hadn’t hurt. He knew he was burned as the water splashed against him, his arms and shoulders screaming in agony. He knew his hellfire should have extinguished seconds after he shot it toward the attackers.
The last thing he saw before everything went black was the subtle lavender of Remi’s eyes. He felt the Siren’s touch just before everything went numb, and he decided if that was death, there were far worse ways to go.
Except he wasn’t dead.
He was very much alive and very much in pain when he finally rose to consciousness. He could smell the acrid stench of antiseptic as he attempted to open his eyes, and his skin felt stretched and seared when he tried to move his arms. The bed beneath him was soft, but the sheets were scratchy against his sensitive, newly healed skin, and he desperately craved his own bed back in his penthouse.
“Well, well, well. Sleeping Beauty finally wakes up from his nap.”
Jeremiah managed to flip Priest off as he rolled onto his side, hissing between his teeth. “Why am I not dead?”
“That’s a damn good question,” Priest said. His words carried his same flippant air, but his tone was anything but. He was shaken.
Jeremiah peeled his eyes open to find his oldest friend leaning close to his bed. The Demon looked paler than usual in his half crouch, his fingers trembling and suit in shambles. “Seriously. It was holy water.”
“We know.” Priest dragged a hand down his face, then used his considerable strength to shove Jeremiah over. “Move it, Sunshine. I’m getting in.”
Jeremiah didn’t have time to protest before Priest was under the sheets next to him, turning into a sort of Demon-octopus hybrid. “I’m fine,” he grunted.
Priest hummed, but he didn’t let go. “Yeah, well, it was touch and go there for a while, asshole. You almost…” He stopped and took a breath.
Jeremiah felt his heart tick up a few beats as he shifted to look at his friend. “The prince?”
“Fine.”
“The kids?”
“Also fine,” Priest said, smiling just a little. “The king and queen have put the palace on lockdown, but we’ve collectively agreed that we can’t keep this up.”
Jeremiah flopped back down and draped his hand over his eyes. Priest was right. “Where?”
“One of Storm’s brothers belongs to a Hoard. There’s five or six of them, I think. We transported the twins there this morning and set up several wards to accompany the ones the Dragons already set up.”
Jeremiah started to nod until he realized one very important person was left out. He sat up halfway, dislodging Priest from his aggressive cuddle. “And the crown prince?”
Priest’s lips twitched. “Refused to go.”
Jeremiah suddenly had his strength back. He swung his legs over the bed and stood, freezing when Priest wolf whistled at him. He felt the cool rush of air across his naked ass, and he spun.
Priest waggled his eyebrows. “You know what they say about Hellhounds.”
“Don’t,” Jeremiah barked. Literally. His frustration had his shift simmering just under the surface of his skin.
Priest’s smile got wider. “Problem?”
“Yes. The fact that one of the targets is still here,” he said, trying to control himself. He glanced around until he set eyes on a small pile of clothes folded in perfectly neat squares. That was most definitely the work of Knight. He’d thank him for bringing him more things from his place later. For now, he had a bratty prince to deal with.
Priest chuckled as Jeremiah struggled into his clothes with stiff, burned arms. They were healing—faster than they probably should have, but that was a problem for future Jeremiah to ponder.
