Thirst (Hellish #4)(34)

“Baptiste, come in. Jonathan is waiting for you.”

The ominous feel of the house had Baptiste on edge and doubled his confusion. He’d thought they’d found a modicum of friendship. “What’s going on? Bleidd said my mates were detained.”

Dougal tossed a glance over his shoulder as he led Baptiste down the hall. “Aye, earlier today. Jonathan will explain everything.”

“That makes no sense. Eirik is a god.”

“Aye, I know.”

Jonathan came into view. He looked more powerful than usual tonight, standing outside the same guest bedroom where Baptiste had his last argument with is mates. No friendship marred the man’s features. He was the Nephilim—the grandson of Goddess Celeste tonight.

“Baptiste,” Jonathan said, dipping his chin.

Lire and Faolan appeared behind him before he could respond. He felt trapped in the narrow hallway with Jonathan and Dougal blocking one way and Faolan and Lire blocking the other, especially when he felt a wave of weariness overcome him. He wasn’t tired. It was more of a draining of power. Symbols on the walls glowed orange, making him realize the king had him trapped, draining his magic.

“What the fuck?” Baptiste growled. His rage grew.

Jonathan opened the door beside him and waved Baptiste inside. “I’ve recaptured Kallus from his earlier escape, and Eirik has been brought in for interfering with king’s business.”

Baptiste strolled inside and found his mates pacing the floor, trapped behind a wall of invisible magic. The level of Baptiste’s fury at seeing his mates caged like animals was enough to bring down the house. His powers were dampened. He couldn’t fight. Not to mention, this was Jonathan. He was a reasonable man.

“Let them go. You said it was my place to judge them. Let them go. That’s what I want.”

For a moment, Jonathan looked sad. “I’m sorry, Baptiste. That was the case before, but now you’re equally guilty of abandonment. All three of you will stay until you’ve come to a mutual agreement.”

“What?” His brain wouldn’t work.

“Hopefully, you won’t be here long,” Jonathan said with a sad smile. “I don’t like this either,” he added. “You’re a good man, and I’d like to think we’re friends, but I’m a king first.”

He turned, as if ready to leave. Horror overcame Baptiste. He scrambled after Jonathan. “Wait. Hold up. Evan will think I abandoned him. Don’t do that to me. Everyone else has already left him.” Jonathan turned at his plea.

“Told you I smelled the dog,” Kallus said behind him.

Baptiste ignored him and didn’t let up. “Please? I left him in Sweden at our cabin. I promised him I’d be right back. If I don’t show, he’ll be heartbroken. Evan is so young and sweet. He won’t understand. He doesn’t deserve that level of cruelty of being dropped like a stray.” He had to make Jonathan understand. “I can’t do that to him. I can’t do what was done to me.”

“But you did,” Jonathan pointed out. His voice was soft, as if expected to spook Baptiste, or hoped to soothe his panic even as he admonished him. “You walked away from your mates with every intention of not coming back.”

A swift denial raced to Baptiste’s lips. It didn’t fall, but realization struck. He was furious with the men standing at his back. But, in his heart, he never intended to stay gone. He’d only wanted them to taste what he had. Baptiste had needed them to understand the hopelessness. They had to feel what he’d felt, or he’d never forgive them. He’d never look at them the same.

Jonathan patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry about Evan. I’ll fetch him in an hour, if you haven’t come to terms by then.”

Relief washed over Baptiste. Evan would come and know his importance. When the door closed, leaving Baptiste with nothing else to focus upon, he took a breath. Even to his ears, the life-giving oxygen passing his lips sounded ragged. He turned and tried eyeing everything except his mates. The wooden bedframe was still cracked from Niall and his abuse. Kallus sat on the edge of the bed. Baptiste’s gaze skirted over him and landed on the cherry wood dresser. It had a mirror hanging over it. Eirik stood, leaning against the piece. Fuck. There was no safe place to look. No one said anything, making the situation twice as awkward.

“Come here,” Kallus said.

Baptiste’s gaze automatically shot his way. The hard set to Kallus’ jaw said he wouldn’t tolerate disobedience. The hurt in his eyes said it would break him if Baptiste refused. The combination had Baptiste’s feet moving in his direction. He stopped just out of Kallus’ reach. Kallus held his hand out to Baptiste. Baptiste looked between his beautiful blue eyes and the outstretched hand. He was temptation’s bitch.

“Please?”

Baptiste reached out and stroked the tips of Kallus’ fingers. They were so hot. Baptiste wanted more. His palm slid across Kallus’s. A sharp breath escaped Kallus, forcing Baptiste’s eyes up. Kallus stared at their hands, looking like he expected the worst while praying for the best. There was so much desperation in his eyes. His fingers closed around Baptiste’s hand. He tugged, pulling Baptiste closer until Baptiste stood between his knees. Kallus touched his lips to the back of Baptiste’s hand and held it there. Baptiste couldn’t look away. Kallus swallowed so hard Baptiste heard it happen. He felt the man’s lips shape into a smile before falling again against his skin.