Thirst (Hellish #4)(9)

Ethan burst through his bedroom door, guns drawn, and looking ready for battle. The usual smooth flirt vanished beneath the picture of a beast. Ethan’s dark-blue gaze bounced around the room, searching for a threat. He holstered his weapons behind his back when he found Baptiste alone. His long stride ate up the distance between them. The man’s solid form braced Baptiste against a fall. His strong arms engulfed Baptiste. Ethan was a Prampire—part of a rare vampire sect that fed on strong emotional energy. No one knew. Baptiste kept Ethan and his twin Evan’s secret. In turn, Ethan kept Baptiste sane. Without Ethan, losing Eirik and Kallus would’ve killed him long ago. The anger, love, hate, and want shifted. Baptiste felt it seep from his body as Ethan absorbed the emotions until they were muted. He held on, shaking in his relief.

“I’ve got you,” Ethan whispered against his temple.

Baptiste turned his head. Ethan lowered his chin. Their lips met. It meant nothing. Baptiste didn’t want anything beyond the physical response of touching. Their tongues met and stroked. For Baptiste, there was no huge explosion of passion. There never would be. He was mated to the demon who’d abandoned him. As long as Kallus still lived, Baptiste would never feel a quarter of what he felt for his mate for anyone else. It was akin to living in hell. Everything in his life was an echo of a whisper without his mates. Ethan was better than Kallus. He’d be a true mate to Baptiste. All Kallus did was steal and take from Baptiste, leaving him hollow and without hope. Baptiste nipped at Ethan’s bottom lip, wanting to feel anything. Ethan’s moan vibrated through their kiss. The final inch between them disappeared as Ethan shuffled closer. His erection dug into Baptiste’s hip.

It didn’t matter Baptiste’s emotions were dampened. He could make Ethan fly. His fingers shaped Ethan’s hard cock through his jeans. Ethan deepened their kiss. Baptiste went for the man’s zipper, determined to make the man feel everything he couldn’t. He could feel enough for this. A knock landed on his bedroom door, freezing them.

Evan’s voice came through the door. “You have a visitor.”

Baptiste bit back a growl. “I’ll be there in a minute.” Without a qualm, he set Ethan’s erection free. The silky-smooth skin of a hard dick brushed his palm. “I can show my appreciation in record time.”

Ethan pushed his hand away. He zipped his pants. With his gaze locked on his task, Ethan headed for the door. “I’m not interested in a pity hand job.”

A growl choked Baptiste. “That’s not what I meant.”

“You have a visitor,” Ethan reminded him. He was out the door before Baptiste could respond.

While scrubbing his hands through his hair, Baptiste stared at the ceiling, seeking answers from above. Why? Why had he been left with this? Just why? Baptiste wasn’t a warrior or a politician. Yet, people came to him, seeking answers and help. In truth, Baptiste had always been a lover and a scholar. All he cared to have was a book and someone to hold. He liked quiet and wine. Why had he been handed a life so at odds with him? He didn’t know how to fight this battle.

“You should’ve let me die, Eirik. If you’d lived and let me die, my soul would’ve found you in the next life. Now, I am nothing. Without hope.”

“Do you talk to yourself a lot?”

Baptiste dropped his chin as a thick Scottish accent filled his bedroom. “I wasn’t talking to myself. It’s rude to enter a man’s bedroom without an invitation.”

Faolan’s amethyst eyes flashed with humor. “Considering how you left earlier, I didn’t think you were too concerned with manners. If you’re not talking to yourself, then who are you chatting with? You look to be quite alone to me.”

“My blood mate, Eirik. I don’t know if he hears me in the afterlife, but…” Baptiste shrugged. “Did you need something?”

With his shoulder leaned against Baptiste’s door frame, the man eyed him. His expression unreadable. “I was given to understand you have a second mate. One still living.”

A snort escaped Baptiste. He moved to the bed and sat. His knees were still weak from Kallus’ mind invasion and Ethan’s kiss. “Having a blood bond with someone doesn’t mean they’ll stay. He abandoned me,” Baptiste clarified.

“I’m verra sorry to hear that.”

“He’s a demon. They’re not reliable.” Baptiste didn’t know why he couldn’t shut up.

“Ah,” Faolan said, straightening. “That explains the raging earlier. You do realize that not every demon is the same, right? Lire is quite steady. In fact, he’s one of Goddess Celeste’s personal guards. You should get to know someone before…” Faolan waved his hand, as if physically searching for the right term.

“Projecting my issues onto others,” Baptiste supplied.

Faolan snapped his fingers and pointed at Baptiste. “That.”

Baptiste blew out a tired-sounding breath. “I used to be so level-headed.” A smile tugged at Baptiste’s lips. “And then this rowdy bunch of Vikings blew through town. Damn,” Baptiste said absently. “That feels like so long ago. Forever is a very long time.”

Rather than running from Baptiste’s maudlin mood, as most warriors would, Faolan moved closer. “You should come around more often. Being around Jonathan is like standing in the sunshine. Without all the nasty vamp damages, of course. He soothes the soul.”