Thirst (Hellish #4)(3)

I love you, demon.

Lire smothered his slight discontent. I love you too, my fool. Why is our blond beauty still sleeping?

A chuckle rang through Faolan’s mind, making Lire quiver and forget his earlier unhappiness. We wore him out.

We should give him a treat for being such a put-upon mate.

Faolan killed the water in the shower and headed for the bedroom without bothering to dry his skin. I agree.

Dougal was on his stomach with the sheet only covering his ass, and his head buried beneath a pillow. The rest of his gorgeous body was bare for the eye fucking. Faolan kissed the back of the man’s thigh at the edge of the sheet. After shoving the material aside, he dragged his fangs up the man’s ass. A moan sounded from beneath the pillow. Dougal rolled over. Gorgeous blue eyes peeked open. His long blond hair was a tangled mess around his face. Lire’s pride mixed with Faolan’s. Somehow, Goddess Celeste had chosen them to be this amazing man’s mate. For eternity. Some people needed a sunset to remind them of how small they were in the universe. All Lire needed to do was look at his life. No other demon was as blessed.

“You don’t believe in letting a man rest.” The laughter in Dougal’s voice let Lire know he didn’t mean it.

Faolan licked his hip bone. “You can sleep all you want… later.” He swirled his tongue around Dougal’s navel. Damn, the man was beautiful. Lire no longer knew which of them wanted Dougal more, Faolan or him. Their emotions swirled together. “I love you.” Faolan’s voice came out sounding demonic, since they’d both spoken at the same time.

“The feeling is so mutual,” Dougal said, burying his hand in Faolan’s hair.

Salty pre-cum coated his tongue. Lire settled in, letting Faolan do his thing and enjoying the ride along. Every sensation was his. As Dougal’s hips lifted, openly fucking Faolan’s mouth, the pride was his. He was a glutton among so much desire. He knew the moment would soon pass, and he’d have to let his men be, but for now, he soaked in their combined adoration. Lire refused to let his earlier discontent touch him here.





2





For the most part, Baptiste’s Voodoo shop ran itself. Being in the heart of the French Quarter helped. People came to New Orleans looking to escape, whether it be through alcohol or a spell. Baptiste only served up one of those things. Most of the items lining the shelves were harmless. He had one or two regular customers who needed the real thing. Occasionally, he caught glimpses of people’s worries, and he ensured they left with the right poppet for protection. After all, monsters were real. So too was Baptiste’s magic. No one needed to know that beyond his vampire brethren—Ethan, Evan, and Dante. Dante had been his friend for more years than Baptiste could count, while the twins, Ethan and Evan, had only been around since Baptiste lost his mates three years ago. He’d taken the men into his home, and he depended on them more than they’d ever know.

With Ethan and Evan’s help, the shop didn’t require his presence to keep running, but sometimes Baptiste liked sitting among the positive vibes while soaking up the hope of humans. No such emotion came to him organically any longer. A gorgeous blond Scotsman, wearing a kilt, drew more than one admiring glance as he cleared the doorway. Baptiste eyed the man for another reason. He was no man. If anyone looked closely enough, they’d spot the iridescent glow to his eyes. Most people’s gazes never went that high when admiring the vampire king’s personal guard. His body screamed hard labor and demanded lingering stares. He moved like a predator. The deadly vampire had killed many, many people in his years on earth. The Druid in Baptiste could hear their screams. Still, Baptiste was glad for the man’s presence. His race needed strong men. After all, the enemy knew no mercy. Dougal’s presence could only mean one thing—he’d been summoned by the king.

Baptiste circled the counter and met the guard halfway. He pasted on a smile. “Dougal. It’s been a while.”

Dougal dipped his chin. “Baptiste.” The man’s eyes and hard features caught the light. Baptiste found himself staring. Dougal truly was magnificent. Baptiste had heard rumors of the past king of Scotland’s fascination with Dougal. In Dougal’s presence, Baptiste believed them all. “Jonathan has sent me to ask, if you’re free, if you’d come for a visit.”

“Have things been too quiet for him?” Baptiste laughed at his own inquiry to hide his discomfort.

The guard smirked. Baptiste stifled a sigh. Dougal was damn beautiful. “We are verra unaccustomed to sitting still, it’s true. I believe this is no more than a social call. Jonathan isn’t one…” Dougal stared into space for a second. He blinked, and a chuckle escaped him. “I started to say Jonathan isn’t one to look for trouble, but the opposite is true. Not only does he often go looking, he tends to always find it.”

Despite his bad humor today, Baptiste found himself smiling. He could picture Jonathan being just as Dougal described. “How can I resist that offer?” He cast a look at the bright sun still shining outside the shop. “There’s no way you dissipated this early in the day.” He couldn’t. The sun dampened a vampire’s powers.

“I took the bus,” Dougal said, surprising a chuckle from Baptiste. He couldn’t imagine the looks he must’ve gotten.

Baptiste waved for Dougal to follow him to the back of the shop. “We’ll take my car.” Baptiste was hyper aware of the giant guard behind him. It wasn’t that he expected an attack, or maybe he did. Baptiste had been walking on his toes for so long, he no longer knew who his friends were. His black Tahoe sat in the shade, saving them somewhat from the heat. It took a minute for the fifteen-year-old SUV to cool down, even with the air on full blast.