relatives to leave me alone. Korina shall care for me and keep me safe.”
“I vow to keep the world away from Agapios.” Korina’s skilled fingers began removing the needles from my flesh. “Now we need to escape.”
Athan’s cool lips brushed my cheek. “Ready to come home, Stewart?”
I was.
Forever.
Three
’Nathan Burgoine
I prefer hunting at the bar since they banned cigarettes. The scent of prey, so easily lost in the blue haze, has made a delightful return. I might not have noticed him, were there still those clouds of smoke. The pleasure of forcing a deep breath into my chest—a trick it took me a good while to learn—allows me to fill myself with the musk of the men around me.
An earthy scent with a slight trace of smoke of a different sort curled in my nose. I closed my eyes, took another lungful of air to make sure, then released it. I hadn’t been mistaken.
Nothing ruins a good hunt like a demon. If the demon in particular is Anders, I count myself lucky to have only one night ruined. We have history, if rivalry can be considered history.
Nevertheless, seeing Anders’s broad shoulders, generous biceps, and thick wavy black hair, I allowed myself to enjoy the sight. The incubus had his back to me, but it was still a good view. As usual, he was wearing a sleeveless black shirt and a pair of faded blue jeans.
I hesitated, the moment stretching. He had not seen me; I could still leave. I stood motionless, considering. I did not want to give up the night, not so early.
Anders sensed me, and turned enough to make eye contact. He offered me a mocking wave. I raised my own hand, an insincere smile on my face.
It shouldn’t have surprised me to see Anders. The whole of the supernatural world is busy on the three nights of the full moon. The covens practice, the packs run, the demons worship, and the vampires gather.
We few who walk alone are safe these three nights. Safe enough to hunt on our own. I’d been caught by another vampire once before, and did not relish the thought of repeating it. Made and abandoned, I am a slave to the will of nearly all other vampires—if they told me to step into the sun, if only for their own amusement, their will would force me to act. These three nights were all I had to call my own, and I was loath to give up even one of them.
Still, I wavered. To share a hunting ground with Anders? It didn’t bear thought. But to leave merely because he was present? That credited him with entirely too much influence.
No, I decided, and strode toward the demon.
“Anders.” I smiled and slid my arm around his waist possessively. The young blond he’d been speaking with blinked, as though coming out of a daydream.
Anders flashed me a fake smile. “Luc. You look pale.”
My French Canadian heritage balances my sunless complexion, but likely Anders was just trying to raise my ire. I smiled.
“Too much sun is bad for the skin,” I said, then noted his darkly tanned arms with a notable arch of one eyebrow. “Though you positively reek of health.” I tugged him toward me and leaned against him. He wrapped his muscular arms around my waist and squeezed. His grasp had enough strength to be uncomfortable.
“It’s been too long,” he said.
“You only say that when you’re trying to pick up cheap little blond things,” I said. The cheap little blond thing glared at me. “You know I don’t mind you fucking around, as long as you still come home to me in the morning.”
“Asshole,” the blond said, and pushed past us to return to the dance floor.
“Dommage,” I said, and pouted at Anders. “That hurt my feelings.”
Anders let go of me roughly. “I suppose that’s vengeance for last month?”
I blinked, the picture of innocence. “Last month?”
Anders smirked. His face is one of angles, chiseled and strong. His brow is perhaps deeper than I would prefer, but he certainly exudes masculinity in a traditional—if overpowering—way. That he is shunned by
“I vow to keep the world away from Agapios.” Korina’s skilled fingers began removing the needles from my flesh. “Now we need to escape.”
Athan’s cool lips brushed my cheek. “Ready to come home, Stewart?”
I was.
Forever.
Three
’Nathan Burgoine
I prefer hunting at the bar since they banned cigarettes. The scent of prey, so easily lost in the blue haze, has made a delightful return. I might not have noticed him, were there still those clouds of smoke. The pleasure of forcing a deep breath into my chest—a trick it took me a good while to learn—allows me to fill myself with the musk of the men around me.
An earthy scent with a slight trace of smoke of a different sort curled in my nose. I closed my eyes, took another lungful of air to make sure, then released it. I hadn’t been mistaken.
Nothing ruins a good hunt like a demon. If the demon in particular is Anders, I count myself lucky to have only one night ruined. We have history, if rivalry can be considered history.
Nevertheless, seeing Anders’s broad shoulders, generous biceps, and thick wavy black hair, I allowed myself to enjoy the sight. The incubus had his back to me, but it was still a good view. As usual, he was wearing a sleeveless black shirt and a pair of faded blue jeans.
I hesitated, the moment stretching. He had not seen me; I could still leave. I stood motionless, considering. I did not want to give up the night, not so early.
Anders sensed me, and turned enough to make eye contact. He offered me a mocking wave. I raised my own hand, an insincere smile on my face.
It shouldn’t have surprised me to see Anders. The whole of the supernatural world is busy on the three nights of the full moon. The covens practice, the packs run, the demons worship, and the vampires gather.
We few who walk alone are safe these three nights. Safe enough to hunt on our own. I’d been caught by another vampire once before, and did not relish the thought of repeating it. Made and abandoned, I am a slave to the will of nearly all other vampires—if they told me to step into the sun, if only for their own amusement, their will would force me to act. These three nights were all I had to call my own, and I was loath to give up even one of them.
Still, I wavered. To share a hunting ground with Anders? It didn’t bear thought. But to leave merely because he was present? That credited him with entirely too much influence.
No, I decided, and strode toward the demon.
“Anders.” I smiled and slid my arm around his waist possessively. The young blond he’d been speaking with blinked, as though coming out of a daydream.
Anders flashed me a fake smile. “Luc. You look pale.”
My French Canadian heritage balances my sunless complexion, but likely Anders was just trying to raise my ire. I smiled.
“Too much sun is bad for the skin,” I said, then noted his darkly tanned arms with a notable arch of one eyebrow. “Though you positively reek of health.” I tugged him toward me and leaned against him. He wrapped his muscular arms around my waist and squeezed. His grasp had enough strength to be uncomfortable.
“It’s been too long,” he said.
“You only say that when you’re trying to pick up cheap little blond things,” I said. The cheap little blond thing glared at me. “You know I don’t mind you fucking around, as long as you still come home to me in the morning.”
“Asshole,” the blond said, and pushed past us to return to the dance floor.
“Dommage,” I said, and pouted at Anders. “That hurt my feelings.”
Anders let go of me roughly. “I suppose that’s vengeance for last month?”
I blinked, the picture of innocence. “Last month?”
Anders smirked. His face is one of angles, chiseled and strong. His brow is perhaps deeper than I would prefer, but he certainly exudes masculinity in a traditional—if overpowering—way. That he is shunned by
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