Thirst (Hellish #4)(5)

“Nay,” Dougal and Faolan said at the same time. It was Dougal who elaborated. “I have no wish ever to return to that place.”

Baptiste couldn’t imagine leaving New Orleans and never setting foot there again. Much less never wanting to return. Curiosity ate at him. He wondered if the rumors he’d heard about Dougal and Niall’s father were why the men didn’t wish to return to Scotland. It wasn’t his business. Baptiste blinked several times, trying his ass off to keep his thoughts to himself. His mouth won. “I don’t know how to change the topic to something less intrusive.” A nervous laugh escaped him. “Sorry. I’m socially awkward.” Like they hadn’t noticed. His smile felt more like a grimace. “That’s why I rarely visit,” he tacked on, because no one was responding, and he couldn’t stop trying to fill the silence. Still, no one spoke. Baptiste’s shoulders fell. It seemed the comfort he’d found in the car, talking to Dougal, was gone. He rubbed his arms. In the privacy of his home and shop, Baptiste was free to be the functioning demon addict. Here, with a demon and his king watching, Baptiste barely stopped himself from flipping out. He massaged his left hand. He could feel everyone’s eyes upon him, burning into his skin. Baptiste’s gaze shot around the room, avoiding eye contact. He hated when the comfort of the norm evaded him. Baptiste couldn’t stop the overwhelming feelings engulfing him.

“How long has it been since your mate died?”

Baptiste’s gaze dropped to his chest. That was how certain he was he’d been stabbed in the heart at Lire’s question. The pain never lessened. He rubbed his arms again. The feeling of being exposed grew. “What?”

Lire waved a dismissive hand in his direction. “Only losing a mate causes the type of distress you’re constantly in. How long has it been?”

A wave of unadulterated fury rose inside Baptiste. The demon spoke of things he didn’t understand. Baptiste wanted to rip his throat out. His voice came out sounding as hard as Baptiste’s face felt. “You’re a mystery to me,” Baptiste said instead of answering. “Why are you here?” He was incapable of not poking the demon even though it was so much worse than poking a bear. “Sometimes, you’re here in body. Other times, you’re here in spirit. Either way, you’re always here, muddying the waters with your evil.”

“He is our blood mate,” Dougal growled, motioning between Faolan and himself, and transforming from the clan beauty to deadly warrior in an instant, all illusions of friendship gone. The man came to his feet, already reaching for his blade. His fangs bared, ready to defend his mate, as he should. Baptiste didn’t doubt for a second the giant vampire felt his rage. He also couldn’t pretend there wasn’t a small part of him that hoped Dougal would strike, taking away Baptiste’s never-ending pain.

Jonathan brushed his fingers down Dougal’s back, and the man melted back into his seat.

Baptiste went on alert. He was a guest here and pissing off the king’s guard shouldn’t be on his to-do list. Before Baptiste could apologize, Lire slammed into Baptiste’s mind. As clear as if it was happening, Baptiste saw himself nude—ass up and face pressed into his mattress. Lire’s hard body weighed down on him.

“I can be as solid as I please,” Lire whispered, sounding deadly as his dick stretched Baptiste’s asshole wide without mercy inside his head. Like that, Baptiste was hard, panting, and on the edge of orgasm. The image of Lire transformed, becoming smoke. Baptiste’s body absorbed him like water. It was as if Lire wore his skin. His limbs became Lire’s. His thoughts, Lire invaded them all. None of it was real, but Baptiste couldn’t tell the difference any longer. “Or I can be as incorporeal as I want. I can be a part of you, controlling you, and ensuring you feel every passion I desire. You would beg to do my bidding.” Baptiste forcefully shoved Lire from his mind. The images disappeared, leaving Baptiste light-headed and off balance as he stared at Lire across the table from him. Lire looked intrigued by Baptiste’s ability to take back control of his mind. Still, even though Lire had never moved, he’d made his point, and mentally wrecked Baptiste. “But, you already knew what I could do. Didn’t you, Baptiste?”

Fucking demons. They were all the same. Possibly the king thought he had this one housebroken, but it wasn’t true. Demons couldn’t be tamed. They leveled everything. It was only a matter of time before the one sitting across from Baptiste brought down this entire household. Baptiste wasn’t fooled by his act.

Spite rose inside Baptiste, taking control of his mouth. “Don’t you want to know how I did it? Aren’t you curious why you can’t see who it is? How I’m stopping you from taking complete control of my mind?”

Everyone looked between Lire and Baptiste with open curiosity. As if watching a tennis match, waiting to see who’d win. There was no way they could know what had gone on mentally between them. No doubt, their conversation seemed odd to everyone else.

Baptiste didn’t let up. He pulled his necklace up and over his head before holding it out to Dougal. “I expect this back.” He enunciated every word, leaving no doubt he’d kill to retrieve the item. “Put it on.”

Dougal glanced Lire’s way. When Lire dipped his chin, Dougal accepted the necklace. He pulled it over his head. His eyebrows rose in question.

Baptiste switched his attention Lire’s way. He motioned toward Dougal. “You should kiss your man. I imagine it’s been a while since you’ve done so with your own lips.”