Thirst (Hellish #4)
Charity Parkerson
Introduction
In his twelve hundred years on earth, Baptiste has been called many things. Vampire. Voodoo Priest. Demon mate. They’re all true.
Running a small voodoo shop in the heart of the French Quarter has given Baptiste something to do with his free time other than pine for the mate he never sees. While it’s true he sells worthless trinkets to tourists, he’s also been known to sell a real spell or two. As the child of a powerful Druid, Baptiste already knew all there was to know about the supernatural world before he willingly turned Vampire nearly twelve hundred years ago. Except, no one told him he’d fall in love with a demon one day and spend eternity living in hell.
Jonathan and his clan are enjoying some much-needed time off after dealing with their demon problems. It’s Jonathan’s bad luck he accidentally sees inside Baptiste’s head during a visit. Now they’re—once again—pulled into the drama of demons as they try to help Baptiste. But Baptiste doesn’t need rescuing. In fact, he holds the key to saving them.
1
Jonathan was adorable to watch. Seriously, Lire never needed to leave the house to stay charged at full power. Being a lilin demon, he fed on desire. Lust thrummed through their home. Jonathan was the center of it more often than not. While at the kitchen counter, in full Nephilim mode, Jonathan shook his ass to the music blasting from earbuds. His wings framed his ass perfectly, making for an adorable picture. He liked watching Jonathan. For demons, power was hypnotic—like a snake with a charmer controlling it. There were times when Lire was called to act as Goddess Celeste’s personal guard. Before Jonathan, Lire hadn’t encountered anyone more powerful than the goddess most called their god. But Jonathan was the typical Nephilim, even though they weren’t common. Celeste was his grandmother. As Nephilims do, he’d surpassed his kin’s power. It was a lucky thing for the world that Jonathan was good to his core. Otherwise, he could snuff out the planet with the snap of his fingers. Lire wasn’t sure if Jonathan realized that yet. If he had, the knowledge hadn’t corrupted him. Either way, Lire reveled in his presence, soaking up his power. It didn’t hurt that Jonathan was easy on the eyes. Not that it mattered. No one touched his heart beyond his blood mates, Dougal and Faolan. They slept. Lire never did. That was why he sat, watching Jonathan shake his ass in the kitchen. Someone like Lire should never be left alone with his thoughts. His choosing to be good didn’t change the fact that he was a demon. A seed of evil would always fester inside him.
Jonathan turned, catching sight of Lire. Instead of blushing, as most people caught dancing in their underwear would, Jonathan winked. He carried his coffee to the table and pressed a kiss to Lire’s cheek before claiming a seat. That was another reason Jonathan was one of Lire’s favorite people. He never saw a demon when he looked at Lire. It was like being reborn as something new.
“Good morning, cutie. Or evening. Whatever the fuck time it is,” Jonathan said with a laugh. Jonathan was the only person in the house who could touch him without consequences. Too bad the man already had his blood mates before they’d met. Otherwise, Lire might have tried to change fate for him. He’d never thought to have a mate at all. Much less one he could freely touch.
“Hey, sexy. You’re in a good mood.”
“Of course I am,” Jonathan said, draping his earbuds over his shoulders. His wings engulfed him as he sat. “I have all you gorgeous creatures under one roof. No one has tried killing me in a while. Everyone is smiling. I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth.”
Lire hated to point out the obvious. “Isn’t inviting Baptiste over today doing just that? He wasn’t thrilled to learn of my existence.”
It was true. Baptiste and his pack hadn’t loved the idea of Jonathan keeping a demon as part of his clan. The fact that Lire was one of Celeste’s personal guards had gone a long way at soothing things, but old prejudices ran deep. The New Orleans faction had stayed away since learning Lire lived there.
Jonathan’s smile dimmed a hair. “I’ve been thinking.”
“You mean overthinking,” Lire said, interrupting.
“Yes, but that’s what makes me good at investigation.” That was true. Being an amazing investigative reporter was how the man came to be part of the Scottish clan of vampires. His curiosity had him digging and prying until he’d uncovered an entire world he hadn’t known existed. Now he was their king.
“What brilliant thing have you churned out of that amazing brain now?” Lire knew he was laying it on thick. Jonathan was worth it. He wanted the carefree smile back.
Jonathan winked, proving he saw through Lire’s game. “Don’t you think it’s odd that we searched for several months in countless areas for demons using the ports, yet Baptiste found one within five minutes after I asked?”
The clan was coming off months of searching for a pack of demons responsible for the disappearance of several young women. The vampires hadn’t had much luck finding the pack on their own. That is, until Jonathan’s blood mate Cin had been kidnapped. Somehow, Baptiste had magically found a demon to question within minutes of Cin’s disappearance. Lire had thought it strange. As a pure demon—the seventh son of Asmodeus—Lire could easily find which ports the demons used to hunt for goods and people. He could smell his kind. Baptiste, on the other hand, shouldn’t have had such an easy time of it. The leader of the New Orleans vampires was no more than a vampire himself, his powers limited as such.