Thirst (Hellish #4)(14)

Ethan gave a sharp nod. “Okay. Let’s go tell this king goodbye.”

As he moved down the hallway, retracing the path Dougal had taken him earlier, Baptiste fought the urge to glance over his shoulder at Ethan. The man’s intensity rolled off him in waves. At the mouth of the kitchen, Baptiste paused. His heart slowed at the vision the king’s clan presented. Dougal and Faolan wore matching leather braided bracelets. Lire stood, solid, and twisting the men’s bracelets, careful not to touch either man’s skin. Dougal and Lire smiled, listening to Faolan tell a ridiculous story about cabbage. They loved each other. As Baptiste looked on, Lire took turns bringing the man’s wrists to his lips, placing kisses safely on the leather to keep from exposing the men to his curse. Baptiste rubbed his chest. When he’d seen them together earlier in the day, he’d cast his own problems on them and lashed out. Lire had rightfully lashed back. Baptiste got tired of being wrong.

He moved farther into the room, making his presence known.

Jonathan turned from the freezer where he had some odd salt and ice cream mixture going on. “Hey. Are you okay?”

Baptiste nodded. “Could I have two strands of your hair?”

“Excuse me?” Jonathan looked as surprised by the request as he rightfully should.

“You’ll have to pull them out. No one else can pluck the hair of a god.”

Jonathan blinked. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s for a spell,” he explained, moving to stand beside the three men trying so hard not to touch one another. “May I see these bracelets?” Baptiste asked, motioning toward the leather Lire had been kissing moments earlier.

Unlike Jonathan, the men didn’t hesitate. “Sure,” Dougal said, untying his and handing it over. Faolan followed suit.

Ethan flashed him a smile and sat at the kitchen table. He knew what Baptiste was about.

Baptiste put the bracelets together, whispering an incantation over the pieces as he moved to Jonathan’s side. “Hair, please?”

Jonathan shrugged and yanked out two strands of hair. “Your grandmother did this for me,” Baptiste explained as he unwound the leather strands before weaving the hair through the bracelets. “Not that it did me any good. Kallus walked away before he even knew about it,” Baptiste added absently. “A god’s hair cannot be broken.”

“I’m not a god,” Jonathan said as he watched over Baptiste’s shoulder.

“No. You’re the grandson of a goddess. That makes you even stronger.”

“Why did Kallus leave?” Lire asked as he watched Baptiste braiding the leather pieces.

“I don’t know,” Baptiste answered, keeping his gaze locked on his task. “Eirik died, and he was gone. He never looked back.” Baptiste tied off the final piece. “Diva quibus componuntur Celeste nemo divellunt. What Goddess Celeste put together, let no man tear asunder.” The bracelets shimmered gold for a second before returning to normal. He moved back to Dougal and Faolan and handed back the bracelets. “As long as you’re wearing these, you’ll be free to touch Lire without any consequences. May you have a life I never could.” He turned away before he could see their reactions. His gaze met Ethan’s. The man stood. Their hands met, and they disappeared.



Lire stared at the spot where Baptiste had been only moments earlier. “What just happened?”

Warm fingers brushed his cheek. Faolan was touching him. Dougal touched his other cheek. They looked amazed. Faolan broke first. “Holy fook. It’s sorcery.”

Lire held still, scared to move. Neither man appeared crazed with lust, and his powers weren’t being fed. It was just a normal stroke of skin on skin.

“Seriously, what just happened here?” Faolan sounded shocked.

Jonathan tossed his spoon into the sink, dragging all eyes his way. “You just watched a man give you a life that was stolen from him. Go enjoy it. I have a demon to deal with.”

Lire’s loyalties split straight down the middle at the order. He fought the urge to take his men away to some place they could revel in this new gift. But, if anything happened to Jonathan, all was lost.

“My king,” Lire said, feeling defeated. “I can’t—”

Jonathan snapped his fingers and Lire stared at the ceiling of the room he shared with Dougal and Faolan. His mates warmed the mattress on either side of him.

“Shit,” Lire cursed, scrambling for the edge of the bed. He slammed against an invisible wall around the mattress. “What the fuck?” He tried again, only to find himself on his back. Jonathan? What the fuck?

Stay. Jonathan sounded firm. I’m right down the hall. If anything happens, you’ll be free to help. Until then, enjoy Baptiste’s gift. You have no idea what it cost him.

I can’t leave you unprotected.

A breeze skirted across Lire’s skin, as if Jonathan caressed him with his mind. I’m not leaving you a choice.

Lire glanced over his shoulder. Dougal and Faolan wore matching expressions of concentration where they too tried reasoning with Jonathan. Their faces cleared. They exchanged glances. There was nothing they could do. As much as they might be Jonathan’s guards, Jonathan was stronger than all of them. If he meant to handle things on his own, they couldn’t stop him.

Faolan lifted his arm and inspected the bracelet he wore. “I never thought…”