They’d stayed a few hours longer after Dougal agreed to be his personal guard. Dougal needed that time to soothe his need for Lire. The addiction would be the worst part, but Jonathan hadn’t lied. He’d take a broken Dougal over any other warrior guarding him on the planet. As they came through the back door, the house was unnaturally silent. He imagined the nonstop bullshit they’d endured over the last year had everyone exhausted.

“Do you want to zap into your bedroom and face everyone later?”

Dougal’s jaw flexed, making him look hard. “No. I won’t play the coward. Plus, you’re my ward now. I’m supposed to be guarding you.”

A chuckle escaped Jonathan. “I get the feeling I should set some ground rules now before you try following me to the bathroom.”

Dougal’s laughter caught Jonathan off guard. His gaze slid the man’s way as he stepped into the den, following his inner radar to get to his mates. Dougal focused on something over Jonathan’s shoulder. His smile slipped away before he hit his knees. Jonathan’s surprise made him slow to respond. For a moment, all he could do was stare at Dougal on his knees with his head bowed. He cast a desperate look around, searching for answers. Niall, Cin, and Faolan were on their knees, heads bowed and surrounded by armed men—one of which looked exactly like a more rugged version of Niall. He was a barrel-chested man with a slim waist and legs like tree trunks. Realization hit. This was Niall’s father—the king. Rage followed. This was the man who’d imprisoned his clan and killed Niall’s first mate. His crimes against Dougal were unforgivable. King or not, Dougal should’ve been given a choice.

Adair eyed Jonathan with open contempt. “You should be on your knees, or has no one told you about your king?”

A derisive snort sounded from Jonathan without a single thought. “You’re no king of mine.”

Three of Adair’s men pulled swords from their backs. Jonathan experienced the oddest desire to laugh. Swords seemed so out of place. Adair motioned for his men to still. “You were an American when you were human. Now, you belong to me,” Adair said, moving in Jonathan’s direction. “The moment you became my son’s mate, you fell under my rule.” He didn’t stop moving until he was toe to toe with Jonathan, forcing Jonathan to tilt his chin up to hold the man’s stare.

A growl ripped through Jonathan’s mind. It was Niall. Adair’s gaze slid to Dougal at Jonathan’s feet. The man’s expression transformed into something Jonathan prayed he’d never see again. It sent chills down Jonathan’s spine.

“Dougal.”

Jonathan’s stomach churned.

Adair’s hand moved toward Dougal’s jaw.

Jonathan snapped. His wings unfurled and Jonathan found himself staring at the top of Adair’s head. His arm shot out, and he grabbed Adair’s wrist before the man could touch Dougal. “You don’t touch him. Not ever.” Even Jonathan heard the demonic note to his voice as he felt the bones pop and crumble underneath his grip.

Despite the damage and the fact that Jonathan had gone full Nephilim on him, Adair didn’t as much as flinch. “The sentence for defying your king is death.” He struck out, punching Jonathan in the chest with his free arm. In a true testament to his rage, Jonathan didn’t feel a thing. The blow was no more than a feather brushing over his skin.

“You’ll never see me on my knees,” Jonathan taunted.

Adair’s men sprang forward. Cin and Niall flew to their feet, snarling with rage. Energy pulsed through the room, rocking Jonathan on his feet. To his surprise, everyone fell to their knees again, including Adair. Jonathan released him as he caught sight of the woman standing in the center of the room. Lire stood at her back. Dougal pulled at the hem of Jonathan’s shorts, as if trying to pull Jonathan to the floor. Jonathan couldn’t take his eyes off the woman who held his stare.

Jonathan stepped around Adair, moving toward her as if she reeled him closer with an invisible line. “I know your face,” Jonathan said, incapable of speaking above a whisper. His throat was tight. Jonathan didn’t love many people. He loved this woman.

A sweet smile touched her lips. Her green eyes, so much like his own, glowed with pride. She met him halfway. “Hi, Jonathan.”

Jonathan couldn’t help himself. He cupped her face. “I know you,” he repeated—like he couldn’t stop. He pulled her into a hug. Jonathan didn’t need a response. He only needed to hug her. She hugged him back. Jonathan knew she would. Pulling away, his gaze moved over her face. He couldn’t stop staring at her.

With a small laugh, she glanced down at Niall. While still clinging to Jonathan, she reached down and urged Niall to his feet. “Did you see that?” she asked, patting Niall’s chest, “For the record, that was the perfect greeting for meeting someone who’s loved you since before you were born. It’s time,” she said, holding Niall’s gaze. Neither of them would meet Jonathan’s stare. Jonathan cast a glance around, searching for answers. Everyone had their heads bowed or were looking elsewhere. Lire’s focus was locked on Dougal. He stepped around Celeste and headed Dougal’s way.

Lire reached down and held his hand out for Dougal. “It’s okay, sexy. In Celeste’s presence, there’s no harm in touching me.” Dougal’s chin lifted. Their gazes met. Jonathan couldn’t look away. The way they stared at each other tightened Jonathan’s throat. Their palms met and Lire helped Dougal to his feet. “You don’t bow here.”

Jonathan was hit by a wave of anger coming from Adair. He was the king here. Yet he’d been left on his knees. Still, Jonathan couldn’t stop clinging to Celeste. The last of his family had passed on years ago. Now she was here. It didn’t matter he couldn’t remember ever meeting her before now. He remembered her presence. She felt like his blood.

“What brings you here?” Jonathan asked before adding, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to call you.”

Her smile was kind and Jonathan couldn’t look away. “What do you feel in your heart?”

Jonathan pressed his lips together, trying to hide his smile. His thoughts bordered on ridiculous, but he couldn’t stop the words from escaping. “Grandma Celeste.”

A loud but beautiful laugh escaped her. He’d known it didn’t make sense, because she looked even younger than him, but she’d asked. Jonathan had answered truthfully. “I love it,” she said, surprising Jonathan with the honesty in her voice. “In fact, I’ve waited a very long time to hear you call me that.” Her eyes filled with tears. She blinked them away. Jonathan couldn’t stop taking in every detail. “My time here is always limited, but I’ve stayed away too long.” After squeezing Jonathan’s hand, she moved away to hover over Adair. “Back when I appointed the first kings to their posts, I thought it was such a grand idea. A system of checks and balances, needing little input from me. Vampires keeping watch over werewolves. Werewolves watching demons. Demons keeping shapeshifters in check. Everyone looking at everyone else and keeping each other from getting out of control. Ensuring humans were none the wiser. With a few exceptions,” she said, flashing Jonathan a smile.

Her smile slipped away. She shook her head, making her dark curls bounce. “Kings were never meant to oppress or treat the world as their private playground. They were meant to help guide their people and bring together the perfect clan. Like this one,” she said, waving toward where Jonathan, Niall, Cin, Faolan, and Dougal stood with Lire. “Strong, cunning, loving, and self-sacrificing while still finding the humor in life. You’re the perfect example of what I hoped to achieve.” She dropped her chin and stared down at Adair. “Somehow, I got this,” she said, nodding toward Adair. “I’ve been watching you, Adair. Would you like to know what I’ve seen?”

Adair didn’t respond.

Celeste didn’t seem to need a reply. “I guess you know what I’ve seen,” she said, sounding absent. “It’s gone on long enough. I should’ve intervened long ago.” She turned her head and focused on Dougal. A tear slid down her cheek. “The only excuse I have is that time moves differently in the heavens. Sometimes it’s as if only a day has passed. In truth, it’s been a century. I’m here now,” she said, her voice growing stronger. Jonathan was afraid to blink. He could feel her power filling the room. The hairs on his arms stood. He recognized he was playing witness to a change in history. Jonathan just wasn’t sure what would happen next.

Celeste caressed Adair’s jaw, urging his chin up to meet her stare. Once she had his attention, the air shifted, turning ominous. Jonathan suppressed a shudder. Something bad was coming. “You struck my grandson. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“There are no words,” Adair said, sounding contrite. “I didn’t know.”

Celeste paced the floor in front of him. “Yet you knew he was your son’s mate. Still, you didn’t hesitate striking him. Even if Jonathan wasn’t my blood, that was beyond disrespectful. This is their home. Cin, Dougal, and Faolan are their men now. You have no rights here. This soil isn’t yours. This isn’t leadership. It’s tyranny. Not to mention, Jonathan is my blood. I cannot overlook your slight. Tell me what I’m supposed to do with you now.”

“I don’t know, your Grace.”

“What would you do if a mangy dog bit your child?”

Adair’s predicament became clearer by the second. His punishment inescapable. The way his men tried inching away and making themselves smaller was a true testament of how they didn’t wish to share in their king’s fate. “I would put it down, my Grace. However,” he said, impressing Jonathan with his gall. “We’re not talking about a mangy dog. I’m one of your appointed kings. Surely that affords me some leniency.”

“Jonathan is also a chosen king.”

“What?” Adair asked.

Jonathan echoed him. “What?”

Celeste nodded as if the gesture was meant more for herself. “The Americas have been left unattended too long. With Jonathan coming into his full powers, there’s no one better to handle its rule. He’s strong, smart, loving, and of my blood. There’s no one else, period. Not that it’ll matter to you,” Celeste said, her pacing coming to an end as she towered over Adair. “Your time has come to an end. I’d like to say you’ve served me well, but alas…” She stepped back and waved an absent hand at Adair. He crumpled to the floor. Dead.

Jonathan blinked at the sight. His tongue froze to the roof of his mouth. She’d declared him king. Even with Dougal’s warning, he hadn’t been prepared. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs that he had no clue what he was doing. Jonathan had no business being king. What the hell did vampire kings even do? When he’d found himself mated to a prince, he’d damn near hyperventilated, and then he’d had no chance of ascending. Now, he was a fucking king. It was surreal—like he was watching everything happen to someone else through distorted glass.

Celeste touched his cheek. All his doubts slipped away, settling into an inner peace he’d never experienced. “You’ll never be alone,” she promised with a sweet smile. “This place needs your loving hand, but not much else. The community here has formed a democracy in the absence of leadership. Lend them your strength. Everything else will fall into place. Trust your blood mates and clan. Most of all, know that I love you, and I’m always listening.” She took a step back and glanced around. After focusing on the nearest member of Adair’s clan, she motioned toward the dead king’s body. “Take your king home but remember what you’ve learned here. I’m watching.”

With a nod, the man nearest to Adair grabbed his body and disappeared. In the blink of an eye, the room was empty of unwanted guests. Niall’s fingers linked with his. Cin took his other hand. They were a team. Celeste was right. He’d never be alone. Jonathan glanced around at their unlikely family. He loved everyone in this room. More likely than not, he’d fail at this king business, but he already knew they wouldn’t think less of him when he did.

Celeste eyed them and smiled. “I couldn’t have chosen three better men to rule together.” She stopped just short of happy clapping, but Jonathan thought it was understood. Celeste cast Lire a glance. “Kiss your man goodbye. It’ll likely be a long time before you can do so with your own lips and not make him crazy.”

Jonathan had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but Lire jumped at the chance to touch his lips to Dougal’s. Faolan looked away as if he couldn’t watch. Jonathan puffed out his cheeks and blew out a sigh. Soon Celeste would leave, and he still didn’t know how to fix the mess that they had become. All he could do was hope. In truth, hope was his only solid plan. They were all fucked.

* * *

Dougal hadn’t spoken to Faolan since he’d returned from wherever Jonathan had taken him. They’d returned to a world on its head, and Dougal had come back with a renewed sense of purpose. Being the new king’s personal guard suited the man. It seemed Jonathan had ensured the man would never be anyone’s slave again. In fact, the way he’d grabbed Adair, obviously intent on ripping him limb from limb, was something Faolan had wished to do himself many times. The downside of Jonathan rescuing Dougal was—Dougal ignored him now. Perhaps the man had done so for years, and Faolan had been so busy doing the same, he hadn’t noticed. Since the man gave himself up to the demon to save Jonathan, Faolan had seen the truth—he’d failed Dougal. They all had except Jonathan. Their new leader saw everyone’s hidden pain. Faolan didn’t like it. He kept his shame buried deep for a reason. Now he had thoughts he didn’t want. He remembered things he wished he didn’t. Dougal caught and held his gaze again and Faolan hated himself for it—like now.

Faolan had been lurking outside the weapons room for fifteen minutes, watching Dougal take apart, clean, and then reassemble every gun they owned. How the man didn’t feel Faolan’s stare was beyond him. Dougal was shirtless. The Hellish clan kilt wrapped his hips. Dougal was the only one who still owned several. His family sent them to him. Faolan knew Dougal like no one else. He was the only one who cared to noticed Dougal hated pants, and that was the only reason he continued with the plaids.

The muscles in Dougal’s back flexed. The muscles in Faolan’s stomach tightened. He searched his mind for something to say, coming up blank. Dougal was the only person who’d ever done that to him. Even back when Dougal held his heart, Faolan always found himself tongue tied and never as funny, but Dougal had still always laughed at everything he said. Now he wished he knew what to say.

The hairs stood on the back of Faolan’s neck. He spun. The hallway was empty. Faolan narrowed his eyes and searched every dark corner with his gaze. A wisp of something to his left caught his attention. Faolan pulled his knife from his belt before quietly slipping into the dark room. They had several rooms sitting empty on this side of the house. Dougal was the only one who slept near their weapons as if keeping sentry over them. Faolan’s senses kicked in, turning the dark room light with his night vision. Another movement out of the corner of his eye had him spinning. A dark plume of smoke, barely shaped like a man, towered over him. Before he could react, his body seized up. He was paralyzed and made mute by some invisible force. In his head, Faolan fought like a warrior while his body did nothing.

“This is for both of us,” whispered a familiar-sounding voice before the smoke rushed him and disappeared.

Faolan’s knees nearly buckled as he regained control of his body. Except he wasn’t controlling his body. It moved without his permission.

Take it like a man.

With Lire inside him, Faolan knew everything. He could feel the demon—knew his thoughts and intentions. He wanted to fight but couldn’t while part of him didn’t want to fight at all.

That’s right, ginger. You know you want this.

Faolan’s body ate up the floor—like he had a mission. All Faolan could do was watch it happen through his own eyes. He had no voice or control.

Dougal glanced over his shoulder as Faolan entered the room. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Lire said without consulting Faolan.

“If you’re headed out, I’ve finished cleaning and reloading that stack there,” Dougal said, motioning toward a pile of guns to his right.

Faolan leaned his hip against the table and focused on Dougal. “Nah. Just came to chat with you.”

Dougal flashed him a wicked smile. Faolan went still inside, incapable of fighting Lire’s hold. Dougal hadn’t smiled at him like that in ages. “Why? Is your jaw in need of exercise?”

Faolan’s lips pulled at the corners. Even though he couldn’t control his muscles, he still felt everything. “It’s been a long time since you gave my mouth a good workout.”

A loud laugh sounded through the room. Faolan was a prisoner to Lire and Dougal’s laughter. He stared at Dougal’s smile. His hunger mixed with Lire’s. “What’s gotten into you tonight?”

“A bit of the devil, I suppose,” Lire said, using Faolan’s mouth while Faolan mentally rolled his eyes. “Actually,” he added before Dougal could respond. “This is a health check. You need blood.”

Dougal’s smile fell. “I’m fine.”

Faolan moved closer. Dougal didn’t move away. “You’re not.”

“I’m good enough.”

“Not if you’re protecting our king,” Faolan shot back.

“I’ll hunt later.”

Faolan was dying inside his head. “You’ll eat now.”

Dougal’s throat moved as he visibly swallowed. “Nay,” he whispered. “I cannot.”

Everything inside Faolan wept as his hand shot out and snagged the back of Dougal’s neck. Even if he could’ve fought, Faolan knew he wouldn’t have. Dougal didn’t struggle as Faolan hauled him closer. “Aye, you can,” Faolan whispered back. He very much feared it had been him and not Lire who’d said the words. Faolan pressed Dougal’s face against his throat. He wrapped his free arm around the man’s waist, refusing to let him get away. Dougal’s lips brushed his pulse. The sensation was so faint, Faolan questioned if it happened. Dougal kissed him again. This time, there was no mistaking the brush of the man’s lips against Faolan’s throat. “Please?” Faolan begged with a combination of Lire and his desperation. He could feel how Lire had craved Dougal’s fangs sinking into his flesh, but he was poison. This was the only way Lire would ever know the ecstasy. Having been beneath Dougal’s fangs before, Faolan knew what it was like. He wanted it. “Please?” he begged again.

Dougal’s fangs pierced his skin. Lire’s moan mixed with Faolan’s. Dougal sucked. Pre-cum soaked Faolan’s underwear.

I can’t touch him with my arms. My touch is poisonous addiction. You have to do it. He needs someone to hold him.

Faolan had this. He didn’t need convincing. His dick leaked, and he was half a second away from taking Dougal to the floor. When Dougal licked the wound closed, Faolan struck. He crowded Dougal against the table. The man’s hard cock dug into Faolan’s hip. His harsh breaths brushed Faolan’s skin. Dougal held on to Faolan’s shirt as if it was all that kept him from falling. His gorgeous eyes lifted. Their gazes met. Faolan lowered his head.

“Don’t.” That one word bounced from the walls and kept Faolan frozen an inch from Dougal’s mouth. “Please don’t,” Dougal said in barely a whisper. “I still want to walk into that fire. Cleaning these guns is the only thing stopping me. Please don’t do this to me.”

What’s he talking about?

Faolan dragged out the memory of Dougal’s bonfire, showing it to Lire. Lire’s rage filled Faolan’s head, turning everything dark.

He released Dougal and took a step back. Dougal’s gaze hit the floor. “Thank you for the blood, and...”

Faolan’s brain screamed as he realized Lire’s intent a half second before the man sprang. His body collided with Dougal’s. Their mouths clashed. Dougal didn’t fight as Faolan’s tongue filled the man’s mouth. The brush of tongue on tongue was sweet, making Faolan’s eyes burn. It was fast. No more than a taste before Faolan pulled away. He held on to Dougal’s head, forcing the man to hold his stare. “If you walk into that fire, I’ll fooking kill you myself. I know exactly where you’ll be in the next life. That’s where I’ll find you and kill you again. Your life belongs to me, Dougal.”

Dougal’s expression transformed from shock to confusion. His gaze moved over Faolan’s face. The line between his eyes deepened. “Lire?”

“Say it, Dougal. Swear you won’t pull that shit again. You traded your life to me. It’s mine.”

Pain filled Dougal’s eyes. “Faolan would hate you using his body to touch me.”

Faolan shook his head. “He’s along for the ride. You’re the only man he’s ever loved. He’s threatening to unman me for telling you that, but he’s cool with me touching you.” Faolan shifted closer, letting Dougal feel his arousal. “You’re the only one balking.”

Dougal closed his eyes as if barely holding his shit together. When they reopened, the man looked more determined than Faolan had seen in ages. “Get out of Faolan’s body.”

“In a minute.” Faolan captured Dougal’s lips once more, going deep. Lire’s satisfaction combined with Faolan’s, scaring the hell out of Faolan. He wanted it. He shouldn’t, but the intensity of their combined love for this man was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. This would end. Lire would leave. Things would be awkward. As Faolan pulled away, a shadowy image of Lire still clung to Dougal. Faolan took another step back, watching as the form separated from him.

Lire stared down at Dougal. “Find a way to cope, because I will be back.” The shadow disappeared, leaving Dougal and Faolan staring at each other.

Dougal broke first. “I’m sorry.”

Oh, good. He’d been right. It was awkward. There was nothing for it. Some lines couldn’t be uncrossed. “I’m not,” Faolan said, before turning and walking away. Sometimes there was nothing left to say. Right now, Faolan needed a shower and time to think.

* * *

Dougal’s chest heaved as if he’d been running for miles. His lips tingled. Lire had kissed him and hadn’t fucked up Dougal’s mind. Lire had kissed him, using Faolan’s body. Dear Goddess. On shaky legs, Dougal moved to the door, closed it, and locked it. A lock wouldn’t keep anyone out. Dougal needed the illusion.

“On a scale of one to ten, how mad are you?”

Dougal pressed his forehead to the door at the sound of Lire’s voice behind him.

It never mattered to life what Dougal didn’t think he could deal with. Whatever the worst case scenario was at any given moment, that was what Dougal was handed. He couldn’t face Lire yet. “There’s no scale. Possessing Faol was the cruelest thing you could’ve done to me.”

“Yet you didn’t resist him.,” Lire said, close enough to Dougal’s ear he could feel the man’s breath brushing his neck.

Dougal squeezed his eyes closed and concentrated on the cool wood beneath his forehead. That was real. Lire was smoke and dust with an occasional body. “It seems I’ll let anyone touch me,” Dougal said, more for himself.

“Funny,” Lire said, sounding the opposite. “I wouldn’t. In fact, I was very calculating when choosing who would touch you.” Somehow, Lire managed to get closer while still not touching him. “Turn around, Dougal. I can smell the lust rolling off your skin. Let me see it in your eyes.”

Damn him. Between Faolan’s kiss and Lire’s proximity, Dougal shook with need. There was no hiding his body’s reactions. “Why do you do these things to me?”

Lire’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Look at me, and I’ll tell you everything.”

It was a trap. Dougal knew all Lire’s tricks, but he couldn’t deny him. With a breath for courage, Dougal turned. Lire’s sexy copper gaze traveled down Dougal’s body, slowing at his bare chest, before moving to the erection tenting his kilt. When he met Dougal’s gaze again, the heat in Lire’s stare nearly blasted Dougal off his feet. “You’re so goddamn beautiful, and you are mine.”

Dougal swallowed. His crown was soaked from the man’s presence alone. Arousal sounded in his voice when he spoke. “You said you’d tell me everything.”

“I lied.”

Dougal’s stomach churned. He shouldn’t have been surprised, but still. Lire’s presence was torture. The demon gave him nothing while expecting everything. “Fook you for that.”

One corner of Lire’s mouth lifted. “You didn’t let me finish. I lied when I told Jonathan I love nothing or no one.”

“That’s not news. If you didn’t love Goddess Celeste, you would’ve followed in your father’s footsteps.”

Lire shook his head. “Quit interrupting. It’s like you don’t want me to tell you I love you.”

Lire was right. He didn’t, because Lire would never stay with him, and if he did, Dougal would go insane. Having the man’s love meant Dougal had lost something special when he’d lost Lire. Something other than his mind.

“I love you.”

A gasp ripped from Dougal’s throat when Lire said the words. His heart wasn’t listening to the thoughts rolling through Dougal’s brain. The stupid organ in his chest swelled with pride and ached with loss. Filled with hatred. “What fresh hell are you condemning me to? Do you get off on the idea of me pacing the floors and coming apart at the seams? Do you have any idea how much I want to touch you right now?”

Lire shook his head. “You don’t want to touch me. Stroke yourself.” The allure in Lire’s voice and eyes cast a spell over Dougal—like a cooling balm. His defenses fell. The rage slipped away. Dougal was left staring at the demon who’d stolen his heart. The demon who made him weak and powerful. With one simple tug in the right place, Dougal’s heavy kilt fell to the floor. Lire’s form solidified. His long curls fell over one shoulder.

“There’s a chair in the corner. Go sit in it.”

At Lire’s command, Dougal turned away and headed for the chair. He kept his movements slow, deliberately teasing. Even when he sat, Dougal slowly slipped lower in the seat, spreading his legs wide and giving Lire a show. Reaching down, Lire stroked his cock through his clothes. Dougal’s mouth watered. Lire fed off sex. Without it, he would starve just the same as Dougal would without blood. But the demon didn’t necessarily have to participate to feed from the energy. Sex and lust came in many forms. Maybe Lire wouldn’t stay, but Dougal would be damned if the demon fed from someone else.

Dougal licked his rapidly drying lips. “Tell me.” He knew he didn’t need to specify. Lire didn’t need urging to make him talk dirty.

“Show me that gorgeous asshole,” Lire prompted, and Dougal immediately spread his ass cheeks, giving Lire everything. Lire snapped his fingers. A bottle of lube and a ten-inch dildo appeared on his stomach. “Get to work.”

Dougal didn’t move right away. “A show for a show.”

Lire smirked and unzipped his worn and faded jeans. “Of course. I’m always tit for tat.”

When Lire’s erection sprang free, his piercing caught the light. Dougal’s cock jumped. He lubed the toy before using his fingers and prepping his ass. Ten inches was a lot to take. In fact, it was akin to having his kidneys fucked. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for Lire. His fangs cut into his bottom lip as he pushed the dildo past the ring of muscles in his ass. Sweat broke out on his skin as the toy shifted, pressing against something internal and drawing a moan from Dougal.

As Dougal looked on, Lire fisted his cock. Hunger ruled Dougal’s mind. He stroked his erection and ate Lire alive with his stare. With his ass full and his lubed fist fucking his dick, Dougal tasted blood as he watched Lire. The man looked every bit the sin he was with his jeans open, copper eyes fixed upon Dougal and jacking off. Pressure beat at his crown already. He wouldn’t last long. Lire was too sexual. His demands too hot. He should feel exposed. Instead, he felt powerful. Lire was literally lust on legs. He could have anyone in a glance. Yet he returned to Dougal and claimed his love. Damn, that was powerful. It was intoxicating. This was all he would ever have. It was more than anyone else had offered.

“That’s it, sexy. You’re almost there. I can feel it. Let it go. I’ll come with you.” Lire stroked faster as he made the claim. His eyes shone bright and cheeks were flushed. As much as Dougal loved watching that piercing disappear over and over inside Lire’s fist, he couldn’t look away from his face. Lire’s teeth had sharpened. He was full-on demon now. It shouldn’t be sexy, but to Dougal, it was all he wanted right now. He gave himself over to the pleasure of his own touch. The sensations and show were too much. Relief poured through him as cum coated his abs and chest. A moan rang through the room. Dougal watched as Lire came. The sight doubled his pleasure.

Lire gasped through his orgasm. “We’ll be together, baby. I’ll find a way. I swear it.”

Dougal believed, and for once in a long time, he was okay. If he never had more than this right here, he’d be fine. Lire loved him. Dougal could feel it. It was more than he’d ever expected from life.

* * *

Hot water streamed down Faolan’s body, teasing his overly sensitive and long neglected cock. He ignored the sensation as long as he could. Too many things stood in their way. Faolan didn’t deserve to touch himself and picture Dougal, but damn. He could still remember the first time they’d kissed. Dougal had ducked into a darkened alcove, hiding from Adair. All the times Faolan had watched the man and dreamed came to a head. Dougal was beautiful. He caught everyone’s eye. His long, thick blond hair had the perfect amount of waves to it. Faolan had wrapped that hair around his fist and hung on while Dougal fucked him. Without thought, Faolan lifted his leg and set his knee on the edge of the tub. With his eyes closed and the steam filling the room, Faolan let the sound of the water hitting the tub soothe him. The memory of Dougal filled him. Everyone knew Adair used Dougal every chance he got and pitied him even as they thanked every deity it wasn’t them who’d caught the king’s eye. Faolan had always expected Dougal to bottom. When he’d taken a chance, he’d been more than a little surprised to find himself sitting on Dougal’s cock. Goddamn, he’d been perfect in every way. Faolan fingered his asshole at the memory. Dougal fucked like a god. Faolan had sworn angels sang. He never let Faolan feel like he wasted his time. There was never a ten-second tumble that left him pissed and jacking off. Dougal took his time. He didn’t shove his way in and then leave Faolan hanging. Dougal kept him on edge and begging, making him come at just the right moment. Faolan went three fingers deep and tugged at his cock. The image of Dougal, head thrown back and at the edge of orgasm, filled Faolan’s mind. That broad chest, straining... fuck. Faolan pumped faster. He rolled his hips, openly fucking his hands. The memory of Dougal melting against him, their tongues brushing as cum filled his ass and the space between them stole its way into his mind. His chest ached even as an orgasm slammed into him, stealing his breath. Faolan tilted his chin back, letting the water hitting his face keep him from screaming his pleasure and chanting Dougal’s name. This wasn’t enough. He needed Dougal. He wanted him back.

“Goddamn. That was hot.”

Faolan scrambled to stay upright as the voice filled the shower. He shook the water from his face. The shadowy figure of Lire stood close enough to get hit by jets of cum if he hadn’t been more see-through than not. “What the fook?”

Lire’s gaze slid down Faolan’s body. “You should get used to me seeing you come. If I’m to be wearing you like a suit, I’ll be seeing it quite often. After all, I am a sex demon and I need to feed.”

“What the fook?” Faolan repeated because he couldn’t stop.

“You heard me,” Lire said, smirking. “Dougal traded his life to me for Jonathan’s. That’s a binding contract. Just because I brought him home doesn’t mean he’s free for the fucking. If you want that sexy ass, you have to go through me, or rather, let me inside you.”

Faolan washed the cum from his hand, giving himself something to do other than look at Lire. First off, he was furious. Secondly, fuck all. He’d forgotten that life trade with Lire. Magical contracts weren’t broken. Ever. By anything. Lire could walk away from Dougal. That didn’t mean Dougal was free for the taking.

“What do you want?” he asked instead of raging. It wasn’t as if he could pretend Dougal didn’t matter. Lire had already been inside his head. He knew. Faolan loved Dougal. Always had. He loved him to the point of pain. He tortured himself. Sex with other people, while a necessary evil, had been hell. Every goddamn time, he’d come unglued afterward. That was why it didn’t happen often. But with the love was also hate. Dougal was the devil’s temptation. He made good men want bad things and Faolan’s sister was dead because of it. Lire knew everything.

“I told you. Dougal wants you, therefore I want you. Don’t worry. I won’t always be around and I’ll even let you drive some of the time, but if you want inside my man, you have to take me along.”

Faolan grunted, trying to hide the hope tinting his disgust. “And you think Dougal will just go along with the two of us taking over his life? You think he’ll let me back into his realm at all? I destroyed him. You had to have seen that while you were poking around inside me. I fooked him up. It’s me who made him like that,” Faolan said, getting louder with every word.

Lire shook his head—completely calm. “I’m the one who made him like that, but despite everything, he fell in love with me.” Lire took a step closer. Water passed through his body while he still managed to send a spike of fear through Faolan. This demon was full-on badass. Faolan had seen inside him too. He hadn’t become Goddess Celeste’s private guard by accident. Faolan was good. Lire was better, and he was obviously pissed. “He loves me,” Lire repeated. “But he also loves you—always has,” Lire said, calming a hair. “You’re his kind and his true mate, but I’m his addiction and his life protector. So, where does that leave us?”

Faolan couldn’t answer. Lire had called him Dougal’s true mate. He’d always known it in his heart. That was why he’d balked at touching anyone else and the real reason he’d gone with Niall when he’d left the clan. He couldn’t be away from Dougal. If Adair hadn’t given Dougal to Faolan’s sister, they’d already be blood mates. They were meant to be—their hearts fated long before they existed. When he didn’t answer quickly enough, Lire boxed him against the wall, flattening his palms on either side of Faolan’s head. It was odd. Lire didn’t take solid form, but Faolan didn’t doubt the demon’s power to rip him limb from limb just the same. “I’ll tell you where that leaves us,” Lire spat. “With me wearing you like a fucking suit, driving you like a car, and giving Dougal the goddamn life you’ve stolen from him for hundreds of years. Understood?”

“I need to think,” Faolan said, panic rising in his chest.

Lire’s eyes glowed bright. “I’m not asking for permission, so let’s play a little game. One where we make a deal.”

Faolan stared at Lire in silence. Demons could deal. In fact, they could do whatever for a price. There was only one thing Faolan wanted, or rather, one person. Everyone had taken from the man Faolan loved. One deal, and he could give everything back.