This time, Jonathan was the one who couldn’t stop pacing. He could feel Lire’s stare upon him like heat blasting his skin. Time grew short. They stood on the edge of something. Jonathan wanted to talk about it, but he didn’t know where to start. It wasn’t as if he could explain the sensation in his gut. Something was coming. Once, when he was eight, he’d broken his leg while out hiking with his dad. For years afterward, his leg would ache, letting him know when it was about to rain. This was the same, except it was Jonathan’s whole body and he didn’t know what was coming. All he knew was—now was the time to settle this. Lire needed to tell him what he could, and Jonathan had to find a way to save him.

“Ask me about last night before it drives you insane,” Lire said, as if he couldn’t take the silence any longer.

Jonathan shook his head. “You don’t have to explain. I researched Lilin-demons. Just as I need blood to survive, you need sex. Of course, someone has to feed you.”

Lire released a derisive-sounding snort. “Starvation is a common torture method. So, no. No one has to do anything.”

At Lire’s words, Jonathan stopped pacing and met his gaze. “I didn’t mean to insult you. By the looks of things, he wasn’t here by duty or obligation.”

“That’s not—” Lire began.

Jonathan shook his head, cutting him off. “Don’t lie to me, okay. It’s obvious you can read my mind. You know I can tell when you lie. I don’t expect you to tell me anything you don’t want to.” It hit Jonathan. Lire hadn’t considered lying to him before today. What if he asked? Point blank asked Lire where to find the pack?

Lire shook his head and pressed his finger to his lips. “You have a guard.”

Jonathan’s eyebrows rose. “Do I?”

“A sentry,” Lire said with a nod.

Ah. Someone listened at the door. “I forgot something,” Jonathan said, heading for the door. He opened it and nearly tripped over Faolan. He stepped out and snapped the door closed behind him before Faolan got any ideas about heading inside.

“Did Niall talk to you about how I’ll be the only one questioning our guest?”

Faolan didn’t appear the least bit guilty. “Aye.”

“Okay,” Jonathan said, dragging out the word. “Then what’s up?”

“He didn’t tell me to stay away. Just no torture. You need someone watching your back. Despite the reason for your turn, you have no idea what you’re dealing with.”

Jonathan cast a glance around, trying to decide what to do. He didn’t want to alienate his clansman, but neither could he let this go on. “What if I told you not to do this?”

A sweet smile touched Faolan’s lips, making Jonathan feel twice as guilty. “Then I’ve had one prince tell me I’m not allowed to torture this demon, and one prince tell me he doesn’t want me guarding him. I’m not sure if I’ll follow either order, since I like being spanked. You know, for future reference,” he added with a wink.

“That’s good to kno—” Jonathan stopped mid-sentence as the full impact of Faolan’s words hit. “Did you just call me your prince?”

“Aye. That’s how it works.”

This life made Jonathan feel like he was always slow catching on. “Huh. Guess it hadn’t occurred to me. Anyhow,” Jonathan said, putting that detail in a box for later and moving on, “as thrilling as I’m sure hanging outside this door is, I need you to check out something else for me.”

“Anything, my prince,” Faolan said with a short bow.

Jonathan pinched the spot between his eyes where pain bloomed. “Is this going to be a new thing? Because I don’t like it.”

Faolan’s smile was unrepentant. “I know.”

A loud sigh escaped Jonathan before he could call it back. “Moving on. Can you check out pier thirty-seven in Port Andrew? I’ve been looking at maps, and I think that’s the one.”

The giant vamp’s smile fell. He took Jonathan’s hand between his. “Look, Jonathan. I know you think you know what you’re doing in there, but this demon isn’t your friend, and he isn’t…” Pain bloomed behind Jonathan’s left eye. His vision blurred. Faolan was still talking. Jonathan couldn’t hear a word. Everything inside him went dark—like his mind grasped to accept the emptiness inside Faolan. He couldn’t breathe around the pain beneath Faolan’s smile. A chill raced down his spine. Goosebumps rose on his skin. Faolan’s lips were moving. No sound could penetrate the void.

“The demon says you have no heart,” Jonathan said before he could stop himself.

Faolan squeezed his hand once more before letting him go. The instant Faolan released him, the world snapped back into focus. Air rushed back into his lungs. Faolan looked sad. “I didn’t think. You don’t have to worry about me touching you again. I’ll go check out your pier.”

Before Faolan could get away, Jonathan stepped into his path and set his hands on Faolan’s chest. This time, he knew what to expect, and the impact wasn’t as severe. He took a deep breath to steady himself before attempting to speak. “Don’t stop trying. See,” he said, nodding toward his hands. “You can touch me. I won’t break. Don’t stop trying,” he repeated, because it was important, and skin on skin contact was the only thing that would ever heal Faolan.

Faolan set his hands over Jonathan’s, holding him in place. A smirk touched his lips. Wicked intent lit his amethyst eyes. “I’ll touch you as much you’d like, my prince. Just let me know when and where.”

With a roll of his eyes, Jonathan took a step back. “Let me know what you find at the pier. I feel it in my gut. That’s the one they used.”

Faolan’s playful smile slipped away. His gaze sharpened. “Used?”

Jonathan gave him a sharp nod. “I think we’re in the wrong place, but I can’t prove it. Go check out the pier and leave me in peace so I can find out the truth.”

This time when Faolan gave him a short bow, he meant it. Jonathan let it slide since he didn’t think he could make Faolan stop. He waited until Faolan was gone before searching the garage for what he needed. After grabbing a can of white paint and a brush, he slipped back inside with Lire. With the door closed, shutting them away, Jonathan locked it. If any of his clansmen wanted inside, a locked door wouldn’t slow them, but it would give Jonathan a half second of warning. He started with the symbol painted on the back door. With a small brush stroke, he transformed the symbol for a demon trap into a demon ward, making the room impenetrable.

When Lire realized what Jonathan had done, he came to his feet. Jonathan moved to the next set of markings. He didn’t know how he knew what to draw, but he did. The ancient symbols lived in his head. Once he’d changed all the symbols on the walls, he moved to the center of the room and held Lire’s stare.

“If I ask where your pack is, will you answer?”

“Yes.”

Jonathan gave a sharp nod at the honesty in Lire’s answer. “Why?”

Lire lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “I’m dead already. The enemy of my enemy, as they say.”

“You’re not dead,” Jonathan said. His gaze never wavered. “At least, not yet. I may not be able to save you from my clansmen, but I can give you a fighting chance and I can protect you from what’s coming.”

Lire’s expression shifted. It was a subtle hint of surprise, quickly masked, but it was enough. Lire knew it too—evil headed their way.

“You know what’s coming,” Jonathan accused.

Lire held his stare. “You should leave here, Jonathan.”

“Where’s your pack, Lire?”

“You already know.”

“I know where they aren’t,” Jonathan shot back every bit as quickly.

Lire’s mouth lifted in one corner. “Then you know where they are.”

It was as he thought. Lire wasn’t part of the pack. Jonathan didn’t know why the demon had been there the day his throat had been slit, but it wasn’t because he was part of the pack they’d been hunting.

“Where is the pack we’ve been hunting?”

Lire’s smile turned wicked. “Now that’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? You’re a lesson ahead of your friends who’ve lived hundreds of years longer. If you want a straight answer from a demon, ask the right question. There’s a pack of demons using a set of seven ships and several smaller crafts safely keeping to the waters, unless supplies are needed.” Such as women. Those poor women. “Your friends could search for the rest of eternity and never find them.”

“Why?”

Lire flattened his hands against his invisible cage, looking like a mime. “For the same reason I can’t leave this circle.”

It was so simple. So fucking simple, he couldn’t believe no one had considered it. Just as they’d trapped Lire with magic, the demons had done the same to create an impenetrable stronghold in the one place no one would stumble across them. Mark their ships with magic symbols and sail around the world completely invisible from detection—genius.

“Where are they?”

Lire shook his head. “You’re the only one who knows.”

“Me? How am I supposed to know?” Jonathan asked, almost desperate for answers now.

“That’s not the right question, Jonathan.”

With a growl, Jonathan gave up. He needed to finish his task before another of the men came looking to guard him. After dropping to his haunches, Jonathan changed the symbol on the floor. With that half of the trap transformed, he grabbed the chair and climbed on. He quickly swiped an extra line on the ceiling, breaking the trap and completely protecting Lire from evil. The instant Lire was free, his arms encircled Jonathan’s waist. He lifted Jonathan from the chair and set Jonathan on his feet, making sure their bodies brushed from hip to sternum in the process. Jonathan tried not to let it affect his breathing.

Lire’s palm touched Jonathan’s jaw. He held Jonathan in place. Their gazes never wavered. “I can’t decide if you’re the biggest fool to ever walk the planet or if I should kiss you and make you mine.”

“You could kiss me, but I’ll never be yours.”

Lire brushed his fingertips along Jonathan’s bottom lip. “Ah, yes. Your prince and warrior.”

“No,” Jonathan said with a smile, feeling dazed, and not at all immune to Lire’s spell. “Your Dougal.”

A smile exploded across Lire’s face. “Dougal. So that’s Blondy’s name.” He said Dougal’s name with such lust, Jonathan almost didn’t regret giving him the vamp’s name. Almost.

“At least I now know how I’ll die. Dougal’s going to kill me.”

Lire shook his head. “It’ll be our secret.”

Jonathan couldn’t help but wonder if he was trusting Lire with too many secrets. At what point would this demon own his soul?

* * *

Niall waited in the shadows, biding his time. All he knew was hunger. He’d gotten a taste of his mate. Now he needed more. It was an obsession, eating at the back of his mind. Jonathan came through the door. His forehead furrowed as he mulled over something deep. The man was damn sexy. Niall stayed still, holding out until Jonathan closed the bedroom door behind him before attacking. His form shimmered as he slipped quietly from one point to the space at Jonathan’s back. His arms automatically sought Jonathan’s waist. He pulled his gorgeous mate back against his chest. Jonathan melted. His body molded with Niall’s.

“Niall.” Jonathan’s whisper sounded like a benediction.

“Need you,” Niall growled against Jonathan’s nape. His hands traveled south. His mouth opened over the cords of Jonathan’s neck.

“Niall,” Jonathan repeated. “I love you.”

Niall froze at the admission. It hit him in the chest. He turned Jonathan in his arms. Jonathan’s expression had Niall sucking in an audible breath. The man’s heart was in his eyes. Niall leaned in, moving slowly. He wanted to savor the moment. Their lips met. For half a second, Jonathan held Niall’s bottom lip between his teeth before their kiss exploded. It was everything a mate’s kiss should be—hot and beyond compare. This was the reason he could never turn elsewhere. Jonathan’s kiss kept Niall so enthralled he didn’t realize Jonathan had him half undressed until Jonathan palmed his erection. Niall grabbed two handfuls of ass and lifted Jonathan off the ground while still eating at the man’s mouth. When he finally thought he might be able to stand giving up Jonathan’s kiss, he tossed the man onto the bed.

Jonathan’s chest rose and fell as he struggled for air. Niall held the man’s gaze as he stripped. Once nude, he peeled off Jonathan’s clothes as well. He stole as many caresses as he could. When not a stitch of clothing stood between them, Niall covered Jonathan’s body with his.

“I love you, Jonathan. I love you,” he repeated as he claimed the man’s mouth. He changed angles. “I’m so in love with you.”

Jonathan’s hold tightened. “Then take away this ache. You’re the missing piece.”

At Jonathan’s plea, Niall pushed from the bed and searched the room. He found a bottle of lube and moved back to stand over Jonathan. “You’re mine.”

“I am,” Jonathan said, sounding breathless in his agreement.

“There’s no going back from here,” Niall warned. “You’ll crave me all the time.”

“That’s already true.”

Jonathan’s claim sucker-punched Niall in the gut. His mate’s expression—like desire and madness — had Niall rushing through lubing up. Jonathan watched him through hooded eyes. Niall savored the slick pressure of stroking his oiled cock while tormenting his mate.

Jonathan wasn’t one to wait for any man. In one smooth motion, he sat, towed Niall into bed, and straddled Niall’s hips. Gorgeous green eyes stared down at him as Jonathan took Niall inside. Niall held his breath as Jonathan’s greedy ass pulled him deep. It had finally happened. He’d claimed his mate, or Jonathan had claimed him. It didn’t matter. They were one. There was no better sensation than Jonathan’s ass squeezing him. They’d just gotten started and Niall felt like they’d been edging for hours. His skin burned. He was desperate for orgasm but more so for Jonathan’s. Niall wanted to watch and feel as Jonathan came unglued.

Jonathan’s teeth sank into Niall’s chest. His tongue had Niall’s skin tingling. “Damn, Niall,” Jonathan gasped as he sat back and rocked himself on Niall’s dick. With his head thrown back and stroking his cock while riding Niall’s, Jonathan was the picture of sexiness. Niall couldn’t as much as blink. He didn’t want to miss a thing. Jonathan’s chin dropped to his chest. His eyes opened. Niall sucked in a gasp at the lust staring at him. He came. The orgasm slammed into him without warning. His muscles seized. Jonathan’s name ripped from his throat. Jonathan fell forward and captured Niall’s mouth, as if he needed to taste his name on Niall’s tongue. Hot cum filled the space between them. Jonathan’s ass squeezed Niall’s dick with the same rhythm of the jets of semen hitting Niall’s chest.

Jonathan’s ragged breaths brushed Niall’s ear as Jonathan trailed kisses from the corner of Niall’s mouth to his ear. The man’s tongue tickled the shell.

“Our souls met,” Jonathan said as he nipped at Niall’s lobe. It was true. Niall was too blown away to respond. Jonathan sucked on his ear for a second before saying anything else. The next time he spoke, Niall wondered if he’d ever go soft again. “I wanted it sweet our first time. Next time, it’ll be twisted. Scratches on your back. Handprints on my ass. Blood on the sheets. My name on your lips.”

Niall held Jonathan tight against his chest. It was the only response he had in the face of the fire burning in his gut. Niall knew, even if it was possible for him to get bored with his mate, Jonathan would never let it happen.