Thirst (Hellish #4)(13)

The room had nothing inside other than two straight-back chairs—one on each side of the wards. It was more than obvious this was nothing more than an interrogation room. Kallus spoke first, sending chills down Baptiste’s spine with the reminder of what only he could do for Baptiste.

“I hear the new king wants you to judge me?”

“You’d better hope not,” Baptiste said, sounding detached even to his ears. He had to hold himself apart for his sanity. “For your sake, you’d better pray he decides to choose your punishment. I’ll let you rot. Wherever you’ve been, it seems to have kept you well.” Baptiste didn’t bother sitting. He wouldn’t be here that long. Plus, he would never give Kallus the advantage of hovering over him.

Kallus eyed him, raking Baptiste with a hot gaze from head to toe. “Damn. You’re still the sexiest man alive. You should tell this so-called king to let me go. We have catching up to do.”

Loathing boiled in Baptiste’s veins. He wanted blood. Baptiste craved the sight of Kallus’ acidic blood coating the walls, but more than that, he wanted the man to suffer. Long and hard. “Let’s catch up now,” Baptiste said, moving closer.

Kallus took a step back. His bravado fled. “You can’t touch me. You don’t want that.”

Dark emotions brewed in Baptiste, driving him on. He kept moving forward and forcing Kallus back until the demon had nowhere to go with his back pressed against the wall. “What do you think will happen if I touch you?” Baptiste asked, trailing his fingers along Kallus’ jaw. Kallus flinched. When no madness entered Baptiste’s gaze, the demon’s eyes widened. Baptiste didn’t give him time to respond. “Do you think I’ll immediately fill with greed to have you? That the need will drive me insane and I’ll spend my nights shaking and crying your name?” Baptiste went flush against him, holding his mate’s stare. He wanted Kallus to see the truth in his eyes. “I’ve already done those things. So, touch me, Kallus. All I feel is hatred.” Baptiste cupped the demon’s face, ensuring he couldn’t look away. “You make me sick, but not with want. Unless you mean wanting you to hurt. That, you deserve. No one should look at you or touch you and immediately crave you. All you deserve is pain. Hopefully, you’ll find it here.” Baptiste backed away and flashed Kallus a smile that felt evil even to himself. “Enjoy your stay.”

This time, Baptiste’s knees really did give out as he crossed the threshold and closed Kallus from his life. Thankfully, Ethan waited for him instead of Dougal. His arms kept Baptiste from collapsing. The man’s hard chest cradled him. He saw nothing. His ears no longer worked. Pain tried caving his lungs. What Dougal called kindness felt a hell of a lot like cruelty to Baptiste. The ringing in his ears subsided as Ethan leeched the emotions from Baptiste, leaving him weak.

Ethan rubbed his back. “I told Dougal I would keep you safe. He was surprisingly understanding and left me to it.”

Baptiste inhaled, pulling Ethan’s scent into his lungs. “I’m going away.” Ethan’s arms tightened around him, as if physically trying to stop Baptiste’s plans. Baptiste wasn’t finished. “Between Eirik’s death and this, I think I’ve stayed too long. Do you think Evan would be okay running the shop?”

Ethan cleared his throat. Baptiste could practically feel the way he was hurting him. “I’m sure he’d be fine. After all, you’re always a simple thought away if he has questions, right?”

“Sure,” Baptiste said, trying to sound happier than he felt. After all, fake was his middle name these days. Taking a deep breath, Baptiste braced himself for Ethan’s rejection. “How do you feel about disappearing with me?” Ethan didn’t answer right away. Baptiste didn’t blame him. It was asking a lot. Even Baptiste wasn’t sure exactly what he was asking for. He could walk away from the demon locked up in the room behind him and never look back, but Baptiste would still always be a demon’s mate. “It’s okay.” It was too much to ask of anyone. He pulled away and pasted on a fake smile. “I’ll come visit.”

Ethan’s mouth covered his, stopping Baptiste from saying more. There was nothing gentle about the kiss. It was unlike any they’d shared before. Baptiste tasted blood when Ethan bit into his bottom lip. His heart skipped a beat. It was the most he’d felt since Eirik’s death. Baptiste found himself shuffling closer. Ethan pulled away. His face was hard. “I’m not a good person,” Ethan said, sounding deadly. “You realize that, right? None of my kind are. We feed off drama, pain, and all the passion you can muster. I’m not good.”

Baptiste opened his mouth, prepared to argue. Ethan had been nothing but good to him since turning up on his doorstep three years ago.

With a shake of his head, Ethan cut him off. “No, Baptiste. If I go with you, it’s not because we’re friends. It’s because I want you, even though you’re not mine. If I go with you, it’s because I plan to have you with zero fucks for the beast on the other side of that door.”

The heart skipping turned into an unexpected wave of lust. Eirik had been a Viking—a man of action. He conquered. Baptiste was almost ashamed of how much he liked this side of Ethan. “I understand.”

“Do you?” Ethan’s voice was every bit as hard as his eyes.

Baptiste swallowed. His throat unexpectedly dry. “Yes.”