Jonathan loved playing with Cin’s hair. As much as he enjoyed running his fingers through the dark locks, it was the small hairs on the back of his neck that always fascinated Jonathan. They were just long enough for him to curl around the tip of his finger. Every time he did it, chill bumps rose on Cin’s skin. The third time it happened, Cin shivered and Niall’s low chuckle caressed the side of Jonathan’s neck.

“You’re determined not to let the man sleep.” The vibration of Niall’s deep voice felt fucking amazing against Jonathan’s skin.

As hard as he tried, Jonathan couldn’t wipe away his smile. “I can’t stop,” he confessed on a whisper. Cin shifted closer, as if urging Jonathan on, so he did it again. Before Cin and Niall, he hadn’t known a person could feel this much love. Sometimes, he thought it would burst from him in a huge wave of light, leveling everything in his path. He also had more to lose than anyone else alive. “I’m scared of all these changes,” Jonathan whispered, keeping his voice low enough he wouldn’t have his feelings hurt if they didn’t hear. Of course, since they were vampires, there wasn’t a chance of that happening.

Cin rolled, facing him. Damn, those iridescent blue eyes always punched him in the gut. “What are you afraid you’ll become?”

Jonathan’s shoulder lifted in a half shrug. “Something neither of you could love.” His eyes burned at the confession. It was the first time he’d said the words aloud. “That’s the only thing I couldn’t live with.”

Niall’s hold tightened on Jonathan’s waist. His hot breath caressed Jonathan’s neck. “My fear is a little different,” Niall said, his voice rumbling as if he was half asleep. “You gave away almost all your blood tonight and haven’t needed us. What if you never need us again?”

Against his will, Jonathan snorted. He didn’t want to make light of Niall’s insecurities, but nothing could be further from the truth. “Nothing on Earth or in Heaven could make me not need either of you. You’re everything to me.”

Cin’s mouth lifted in one corner. “Exactly. That’s why you shouldn’t worry over these changes. There’s nothing you could become that would change how we feel. This is love. We are permanent. You need to get some sleep.”

While trying to smother his smile, Jonathan dutifully closed his eyes. A low knock sounded on the door. Niall growled as he rolled from the bed, heading for the door. “I swear if this is Faol asking to join us or some stupid bullshit, I’m locking him in a vampire trap for two weeks without food and water.”

Jonathan swallowed back a chuckle. His clan gave zero fucks about walking around nude for the world to see. Jonathan hadn’t lost his modesty yet. He pulled the covers over him before Niall threw the door open, bare-assed.

“Dougal,” Niall said, sounding as shocked as Jonathan felt. “You’re home.”

Dougal wore only a ragged kilt, and he rubbed his arms like a crack addict. He looked like hell—dark circles marred his eyes and Jonathan swore he’d lost weight.

“Is it okay if I talk to Jonathan?”

Cin’s thoughts hit Jonathan first. He was glad to see Dougal up and home, but pissed off everyone kept wanting so much from Jonathan. Niall’s thoughts were almost an exact match. Jonathan’s head just hurt. Now that he’d come down from the high of being serviced by his mates, Jonathan’s night was catching up to him. He’d sprouted wings. That was huge. He’d also given Dougal almost all his blood but hadn’t needed to replenish. That was kind of freaking him out too. Not to mention, he’d been glowing, which he hadn’t even let breach his mind’s shit-togetherness wall.

Still, Dougal looked like death. Jonathan climbed from the bed, taking the sheet with him as he went and wrapping it around his body like a toga. “Come on, babe. Let’s find your bedroom, and we’ll talk.” Dougal stepped back as Jonathan headed for the hall. He tossed a look over his shoulder before leaving his men behind. “Love you guys. Get some sleep. I’ll be back soon.”

Without waiting for a response, Jonathan headed down the hall. He could feel Dougal on his heels. Something didn’t feel right, but nothing had been as it should for as long as Jonathan could remember. “We put your stuff in this room at the end of the hall. I didn’t know if you’d want it and didn’t know how to ask.” He opened the bedroom. “We kept it clean just in case.” Dougal’s silence made Jonathan want to fill the air with useless info.

“Are you taller than last time I saw you?” Dougal asked, finally breaking the silence.

A wave of exhaustion overcame Jonathan. “Fuck if I know.” He pulled the covers back for Dougal because the man looked on the verge of death. “I’m damn tired of trying to figure out what all is happening with me. So, what’s happening with you? Why are you back?”

Dougal climbed beneath the covers. “Lire said you told him to save me and he only knew one way. Then, he snapped his fingers, and I was back here.”

A long, low sigh escaped Jonathan. He pinched the spot between his eyes where a new pain bloomed. “That stubborn... I can’t even... that’s not what I meant.”

“I know.” As Dougal made the claim, his teeth chattered. The sound pulled at Jonathan’s heartstrings. If Cin or Niall sent him away, Jonathan might choose to curl in a ball and die. There’d be nothing left for him. Dougal and Lire weren’t blood mates, but they were more than lovers. Jonathan could feel everyone and everything. What the pair had felt a lot like beauty hidden beneath mud.

“I’ll fix this,” Jonathan promised as he urged Dougal over and climbed in bed beside him. “Now, come here.”

Dougal rolled into Jonathan’s arms, letting Jonathan know he was right. This was why the man had come to him. Jonathan closed his eyes and concentrated on Dougal’s pain. Dougal was too weak to keep him out. The man’s brain was a crazy hot mess of sick need. Jonathan didn’t know whether to laugh or cry because—if he really thought about it — he felt the same about Cin and Niall. The difference was, Jonathan’s men weren’t demons.

While keeping his eyes pressed closed, Jonathan worked at soothing away the jagged edges inside Dougal’s mind. “Goddess Celeste doesn’t make mistakes.”

Dougal snorted. “You’d never heard of her before meeting us.”

“She’s my great-grandmother.”

The way Dougal flew to his elbow, leaning over Jonathan, looking beyond shocked as he eyed Jonathan with disbelief, said so much—like Lire hadn’t been sharing any secrets with Dougal. His features softened as if he found what he’d been searching for while staring at Jonathan. “I’m nay surprised, really. That detail actually explains a lot—like the wings and why you’re the only one who makes the withdrawals bearable.” Dougal settled back down, resting his head on Jonathan’s chest.

Jonathan went back to staring at the inside of his eyelids. He focused on Dougal’s barbed edges again. His arms lifted and his hands settled on Dougal. He soothed his palms down Dougal’s back, as if ironing the wrinkles from Dougal’s soul. Dougal shook. It hadn’t been noticeable until Jonathan held him. The man’s breathing was also ragged—like he’d run for miles.

“You’re glowing again,” Dougal said through clenched teeth, as if trying to keep them from chattering again. Still, he somehow managed to sound tired.

Jonathan shushed him. “I can only deal with one thing at a time. If I don’t see it, it isn’t happening, and all is right in my world.” Every word he spoke came out sounding overly Zen—like he could make the words true by using the power of his mind. He took a deep breath and focused harder on Dougal. While Jonathan searched for a way to fix things, Dougal’s memories slipped over Jonathan. The farther back the memories went, the darker they became—like digging into the back of a closet where the light wasn’t as strong. No matter how far back he went, one face always stood out. There was one person in Dougal’s life who shone brighter than the rest. Their image clearer. “I can fix this,” Jonathan whispered. “Just go to sleep, sweetie.” Dougal’s shaking stopped and his breathing evened out. Once he was certain Dougal was asleep, Jonathan slipped from the bed. He had a lot to do if he hoped to fix this mess.

* * *

He was hollow. For a long time, Dougal kept his eyes shut and his mind empty. He didn’t know how long he’d slept. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t ready to climb from the bed. Everyone under this roof mattered to him. They’d pretend nothing happened, as if they’d seen him yesterday. He would pretend he wasn’t dead inside. Life would go on. But he hurt. To his bones, Dougal ached and shook. The backs of his eyes felt like sandpaper and his nose stung. His throat was tight and his chest heavy. His limbs numb.

Dougal was old enough to know this would pass. He’d seen enough years to know the seasons. Damn, he was tired. He’d lived seven lifetimes and had forgotten more years than he remembered. Before now, he hadn’t realized he was jaded. Turned out, he could still learn something new.

Calling on strength he didn’t know he possessed, Dougal opened his eyes. His gaze landed on an expensive pair of boots attached to long legs. His gaze followed the hairy tree trunks to a chair beside the bed. Red hair and amethyst eyes waited there. With a white t-shirt stretched across his barrel chest and their clan’s kilt covering his lower half, Faolan looked bored.

“You’re awake,” Faolan said, pointing out the obvious.

“Do you have your nasty boots on my bed?”

“No,” Faolan said, blatantly lying. “They’re Jonathan’s,” he added with a huge belly laugh that brought a smile to Dougal’s face. It was short lived.

Dougal felt the burst of happiness slip from him, then die. “You don’t have to watch over me. No one is coming for me.”

Faolan crossed his arms over his massive chest and tilted the chair back on two legs. “We both know that’s not what I’m worried about.”

With a nod, Dougal closed his eyes. It was true. The real danger wasn’t what someone else might to do to him. He tried clearing his mind. No peace would come. “Faol.”

“Aye.”

“Do you still hate me?”

For a moment, Dougal wondered if Faolan would answer his pointless question. When he finally spoke, Faolan’s voice came out so low, he was near to whispering. “Aye. Every single day.”

Dougal’s eyes opened. Faolan’s amethyst gaze was locked on him. Hot tears pressed at the backs of Dougal’s eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He wanted to cry and cry until dehydration carried him into the next life. Surely Goddess Celeste knew he was no more than a plague and would eventually smite him. First, he’d endure a lifetime of torture. He deserved all of it. “You shouldn’t care what happens to me.”

“Hating you is all I have,” Faolan said, making Dougal’s chest ache even worse than before.

“Aye, I know. Would you hold me?”

Faolan dropped his feet to the floor before leaning forward and unlacing his boots. He didn’t meet Dougal’s gaze as he toed them off. Neither of them said a word as Faolan climbed onto the bed and gathered Dougal into his arms. Dougal shamelessly buried his nose against Faolan’s chest and inhaled the man’s familiar scent. Faolan’s hatred was better than nothing. At least it was real, and Dougal could touch it. Dougal didn’t have anything else either.