Micah joined the two lycans and his father outside the window of Ronan’s room, his stomach knotting as he watched Ronan writhe in obvious pain.
His brother. That was his brother in there.
“What’s he doing to him?” He gestured toward the blond lycan just as Digon and his Grudge Match sidekick, Rule, exited an examination room a few doors down.
Rule appeared worse for the wear and strung tighter than a crossbow. He’d been patched up from what looked like one hell of a fight, and contusions darkened both cheeks and one eye.
Without turning toward him, Rameses answered his question in a deep, no-frills voice, “Priest is healing your kin.”
“Kin?” How did Rameses know Ronan was his brother?
Rameses’s gaze slid to his. “Is he not a vampire?”
Okay, so maybe this was a general term lycans used regarding vampires. “Yes, but—”
“Then he is your kin.” Rameses remained unaffected, facing the action in Ronan’s room once more.
What a dick. But it wasn’t worth getting into a battle of words while Ronan was fighting for his life. Instead, Micah made a mental note to revisit this with Rameses later.
Digon and Rule joined them, remaining a safe distance away, as if they knew tensions were high and didn’t want to spark an explosion. Rule’s clothes were splattered with blood and covered in dirt and grass stains. One sleeve was shredded. The other had been ripped clean off. Blood-soaked bandages covered his arms and neck. From the clawlike rips across the front of his shirt, it was a good bet his stomach was bandaged, too.
Rule huddled to the side with Digon, near his father, whispering quietly, exchanging glances with his dad in a way that made it clear they knew one other. A moment later, his father joined them, and it didn’t take a body language expert to know good ol’ Dad didn’t just know Rule, but Digon, too. And he knew them well.
Very well.
They looked more like three best friends who’d known one another long enough to know who among them wore boxers, briefs, or went commando.
Okay, so maybe that came off sounding too homosexual. Micah knew his dad didn’t swing that way, and while Digon and Rule were elegant enough to give the impression they were into male-on-male action, there was something about both of them that screamed heterosexual. He’d noticed both of them eyeing the females of Grudge Match during the one and only visit he’d made to the fight club only a few days ago. Gay males didn’t get that special gleam in their eyes when they were checking out females. But hetero males did, even if they had every intention of keeping their hands off the goods.
So maybe another way of putting this would be to say that it was a good bet Digon and Rule knew his dad’s full, painful history, and he knew theirs. Micah couldn’t pick up anything but a black void from inside their heads, but he couldn’t ignore the gut feeling that the trio had known one another a long fucking time.
And he wasn’t sure what to think about that.
But he didn’t have long to ponder the sitch as the double doors swung open and King Bain strode in.
And there it was, the trifecta of bizarro to put The Twilight Zone cap on the evening.
“Micah,” Bain said in greeting before eyeing the rest of the crowd gathered outside Ronan’s room.
Interestingly enough, Bain didn’t appear surprised or taken aback to find a dreck, three lycans, and his father among the crowd. In fact, he nodded privately to each in turn.
“Your Highness? What are you doing here?”
It seemed a pretty far stretch that the king of the race, who was notoriously private and reclusive, would leave his home and come to AKM to check in on the condition of a civilian. And, to Bain, that’s what Ronan was. A cat burglar, yes, but a civilian. And, well, Micah’s brother. But, surely, that wasn’t reason enough to bring Bain out of his fortified royal home.
Without answering the question, Bain spied the bandage on the inside of Micah’s elbow then snapped his fingers in the direction of the nurses’ station. “Take my blood, too.” His heavy voice boomed, drawing the attention of everyone within twenty feet.
A shocked nurse nearly dropped a tray of vials and syringes as she tripped over her own feet when she saw the king. “Yes, sire.” She nodded, bowed, nodded awkwardly again, then hurried to collect what was needed to draw another bag of blood.
Bain dropped into a nearby seat and started rolling up his sleeve to reveal his massive arm.
Trying again, Micah asked, “Sire, what are you doing here?”
Bain cast him a sidelong glance. “Once Ronan stabilizes, you and I need to talk. I’ll give you answers then.” He nodded toward the buzz of activity in Ronan’s room. “How is he?”
“Actually, he’s not stabilizing.”
“Shit.”
The nurse rushed over and got to work drawing the king’s blood, sticking his arm. The clear plastic bag hanging beside him began to fill.
Micah lowered his voice and chucked his chin toward Rameses and the other dark-haired lycan standing off to the side. “What are they doing here?”
Bain studied the lycans. “They killed the werewolves that attacked Rysk and Ronan.”
“Who the hell is Rysk?” Micah didn’t know anyone named Rysk.
It felt like the world had turned upside down while he’d been finding out he was going to be a father, and now he was playing serious catch-up.
Bain sighed as if he’d realized he shouldn’t have said anything. “Rysk is Rule. Rule is Rysk’s alias.”
Micah glanced toward the male he knew only as Rule. The guy had never given Micah the warm and fuzzies, and this surprising switcheroo with his name gave Micah one more reason not to like him.
“Why the hell does that asshole need an alias?”
Bain pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s a long story.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’ll tell you later.”
“With all due respect, sire, what aren’t you telling me?” Micah didn’t like this keeping-him-in-the-dark feeling one bit.
Bain dropped his hand to the arm of the chair as the nurse finished drawing his blood and slapped on a bandage. “Drop it, Micah. It’s been a long fucking night, and I’m about to throw my royal titles in your face if you don’t shut the hell up.”
Micah took a deep breath and sighed as he bowed his head. “My apologies. It’s been a long night for me, too.”
He glanced at his father again, who was still speaking in hushed tones with Digon and Rule—er, Rysk. Jesus, it was getting hard to keep all the players straight, but it did beg the question of whether or not his father knew Rule’s true identity. Given how chummy the three seemed to be with one another, Micah had a feeling his father knew the truth and a whole lot more.
“I know it has,” Bain said, rising. “And it’s only going to get longer. But first, let’s see what we can find out about your brother. We’ll discuss the rest once we know he’s out of danger.”
Micah didn’t even question how Bain knew Ronan was his brother. Right now, he felt like a visitor in an alternate reality, so he was going to stick with being an observer more than a participant. Maybe that would shed light on what everyone else around here seemed to know already.
In reluctantly dutiful observation mode, he followed but hung back as Bain joined the others.
“Rameses.” Bain extended his hand to the lycan.
“Bain.” Rameses shook his hand. “It’s good to see you again. I only wish it were under better circumstances.”
The necessary royal formalities were exchanged, but all Micah wanted was for them to get past all the hoity-toity bullshit and talk shop. He loathed wasting time, and that’s what all this “How’s the queen?” “Fine. How’s your brother?” “He’s in hibernation now.” “Oh, that’s nice.” was. It was all Micah could do not to grab Rameses by the scruff and demand he tell them why he was there and what had happened to his brother.
“This is Dain.” Rameses introduced the other black-haired male then nodded toward the imposing blond performing whatever voodoo magic he specialized in on Ronan. “That’s Priest. He’s our healer. He will ensure your kin pulls through.”
There was that term again. Micah almost mouthed off about how just because they were all vampires, that didn’t automatically make them kin, but before he could, Bain turned toward him and gestured.
“This is Micah Black, my strongest enforcer.”
Rameses faced him, and Micah found himself gazing into the darkest set of eyes he’d ever seen. So dark they were like black holes. Not even a shred of light or emotion stared back at him. No color, no fear, no anger, no discontent. Only an astute sense of observation that dissected him and made him feel like he was under the lens of a microscope.
“Micah Black,” Rameses said. “It’s been a long time.”
My God, were they going to dance this politically correct waltz all night?
“It has.” Micah remained wary, keeping his distance.
Rameses blinked, and one corner of his mouth ticked subtly upward. “We have found much amusement in following your exploits.”
Was Rameses making fun of him or just stating a fact? It was hard to tell. But if the latter, how the hell would Rameses have learned anything about what Micah had been up to? And why would he find his “exploits” amusing?
“We?”
“Memnon and me. Tales of your achievements in battle have made it to our territory for centuries. You are quite an accomplished warrior.”
Yeah, well, flattery would get Rameses absolutely fucking nowhere. Micah didn’t like the guy, didn’t trust him, and wanted to get this meet-and-greet over so Rameses and his kin would return to their corner of the continent sooner rather than later.
“Funny, I’ve never heard anything about you.” That wasn’t exactly true, but it wasn’t like Rameses could read his mind to learn the truth. Lycans couldn’t read vampires’ minds.
“Micah . . .” Bain’s tone held a warning for him to behave.
One of Rameses’s black eyebrows rose a fraction as he eyed Micah. Then he turned back to Bain as if dismissing him. “We should talk.”
“About?”
“This.” Rameses chucked his head toward Ronan. “The werewolves that attacked him. The ankh.” That sharp eyebrow arched toward Micah again. “The ankh is ours. It was taken from us a long time ago.”
Micah frowned. He knew nothing about how his father came in possession of the ankh. “You can talk to my father about that shit. I was just told to protect it.”
“A task you failed at. And now look what’s happened.” He gestured toward Ronan.
“Fuck you, dog.” This politically correct conversation had just escalated into something aggressive, because Rameses had just grated on Micah’s last remaining unfrayed nerve.
“Micah!” King Bain grabbed his arm and pushed him back before he could take a swing at Rameses.
Before anything further could be said, a shriek rang out from Ronan’s room.
Micah shot around to find Priest’s fangs sinking deep into Ronan’s wrist. The lycan wasn’t fully wolfed out, but he definitely didn’t look fully human anymore, either.
Rage erupted inside Micah. Pure, unadulterated rage. That was his brother in there.
“What are you doing to him?” He shot forward, ready to rip Priest’s head off and shred him limb from limb.
“Micah, no!” Bain’s hold on his arm strengthened, cutting off the circulation.
“He’s killing him!” Micah twisted his arm from Bain’s hold and made a dash for Ronan’s room as doctors and nurses scattered to get out of his way.
He was a fraction of a second away from leaping through the door and clocking Priest across his chiseled jaw when, out of nowhere, a thick arm fired out and snatched him from his I’m-going-to-kill-him trajectory.
Micah spun to find Rameses’s black eyes staring him down like calderas from twin volcanos.
“Priest is helping him.” Rameses’s deep, calm voice didn’t mesh with the extraordinary strength restraining him. Strength Micah couldn’t break free from.
Talk about a blow to his ego.
Another bloodcurdling shriek rent the air as Rameses dragged him from the doorway.
“You call that helping?” Micah gestured toward his brother and tugged against Rameses’s hold.
Rameses tossed him against the far wall like he weighed no more than a notebook. “Let Priest do his work. He’s using his venom to kill that of the werewolf who bit him.”
Micah’s gaze shot back through the glass panes separating him from his brother, remembering how he’d used his own venom to kill Apostle’s after he bit Sam. The experience had been excruciating for Sam, but even more so for Micah to have to stand by helplessly and watch her suffer.
He felt the same way now.
But this was a werewolf bite. Sure, a werewolf bite did more damage to a vampire than a dreck bite, but vampires didn’t die from that shit. Ronan’s superior vampire genes shouldn’t need the venom of a lycan to help him fend off werewolf venom.
“What about my venom?” he asked. He would much rather give his brother his own venom than watch a lycan do it.
“It won’t help.” Rameses kept a watchful eye on Micah, ready to stop him if he made another move to interfere. “Not for this.”
There was something ominous in Rameses’s tone.
“What do you mean? Not for this?”
Rameses glanced from him to Bain. “We should talk privately.”
Not waiting for an invitation, Micah followed Bain and Rameses into the empty hallway. No one argued with him, probably because they knew it would be pointless. He was going to hear what Rameses had to say, whether the lycan liked it or not.
“What’s going on?” he asked once the doors to the medical unit closed behind them. “Why isn’t Ronan getting better? He shouldn’t be suffering this much from a werewolf bite.” Okay, fine, he would still be suffering, but not to the point of needing lycan venom. Not so much that their doctors couldn’t ease his pain and stabilize him.
“They weren’t regular werewolves,” Rameses said.
“So I’ve been told. So, what in the hell are they? And why did they go after Ronan?”
Rameses held up his hand, palm out, as if telling him he would answer all his questions but didn’t want them rapid-fired at him. “They found Ronan because he used the ankh to open the portal housed in the mausoleum at the cemetery. The moment he did that, he sent out a signal that served as a homing beacon, alerting every lycan and werewolf on the continent to its presence. He’s lucky we showed up when we did or both of your kin would be dead now.”
Enough was enough. “Cut the kin crap.”
Rameses tilted his head. “Isn’t Ronan your brother?”
“Yes, but . . . wait, how do you know that?”
“We know a lot of things.”
“Apparently.”
“Micah,” Bain interrupted, “cut it out.” To Rameses, he said, “You still haven’t told us what they are, Rameses. These creatures that attacked Rysk and Ronan.”
Rameses glanced from Bain to Micah and back again as if he knew he was about to drop a bomb. “They are your new worst enemy.”