BRICK WALKED INTO the sleeping apartments, unannounced.

He didn’t knock.

He didn’t make a sound, but simply entered, swinging open the door and scanning the first room of the three-room suite, looking for movement. It was his right to walk into any room or apartment or dwelling here––any living space belonging to one of his own––but it was a right he seldom exercised, particularly with his higher-ranked lieutenants.

This time was different, though.

It had been over two weeks.

He’d indulged this silence for over two weeks.

Walking into the common area of the suite, he frowned faintly, knowing immediately that this particular room was empty. He glanced out the open drapes at the sunlight-kissed balcony and knew the room had likely been vacant at least since the night before.

Passing through the living area with its small kitchen, distressed leather sofa set, and the industrial-style desk with a brand-new laptop open on top, he glanced around the thick carpet, and the wooden floor beyond it.

No bodies.

That was something, at least.

Then again, Dorian had always been fastidious, particularly around the disposal of his kills. Even more than most vampires, Dorian hated the smell of dead things. He generally removed the remains within minutes of having killed them, particularly if he brought them back to wherever he regularly worked and slept.

Brick pushed open the bedroom door, which also made no sound.

He knew Dorian would have seen to that immediately upon moving into this space. Excess sound was another thing his friend couldn’t tolerate; he would have greased and aligned every hinge on every door in the room, as well as the shutters, windows, drawers. He would have done everything he could to make them silent––to human ears, at least––to make his presence here ghost-like.

Walking into the room that felt larger, the one to the left of the main door into the wider building, Brick scarcely paused as he entered the overly warm space. He did not stop until he stood on a thick, plush rug that stood between the fireplace and the four-poster bed.

An iron cage stood on that floor, just as Dorian told him it would.

Nothing lived inside it now.

The door hung slightly open, and it was empty.

Dorian could smell blood, but nothing marked the off-white rug where he stood, or the hardwood floors. The fire had burned down to embers, but the room was sweltering, almost uncomfortably warm, even for him, and vampires generally ran cold.

No bodies on the floor in here, either.

Brick’s gaze shifted to the bed.

He’d known that’s where his search would end.

He’d suspected as much before he arrived, but he actually knew the instant he walked into the three-room apartment, and sensed both of them in the largest room apart from the common area. He could find any of his children, if only he looked for them.

The near-silence that greeted him told him most of the rest.

Even so, he’d taken the time to survey the rest of the vampire’s living quarters anyway, maybe in part to brace himself for what his eyes would find when he finally laid eyes on his two missing vampires.

He still grimaced faintly when his stare found them.

Dorian lay there, naked and sprawled, eyes closed, one arm and one leg wrapped possessively around their newborn.

As for Naoko himself, he hardly looked averse to the contact. Rather, he leaned into the taller male, his hand wrapped around Dorian’s pale arm where he was held.

Naoko’s face winced visibly while Brick watched, his eyes rolling under his lids, his chest moving in phantom pants. He grimaced, tensing, his expression changing in a complicated and articulate series of facial tics and twitches, like an animal hunting or fighting in its sleep.

When Naoko growled, low in his throat, the vampire lying behind him wrapped his arms around him tighter, crushing him to his chest. He wrapped his leg more tightly around him, too, sinking his fangs into his shoulder, which he’d already marked extensively, along with the newborn’s arms, neck, back, ass, side, his one visible leg.

The bite wasn’t aggressive.

That time, at least.

The sinking fangs stilled Naoko instead, reminding him.

It reminded him to obey.

It reminded him who was in control.

More than any of that, it reminded him he was safe.

A stronger vampire was there. Nothing would happen to him, not on that vampire’s watch. Not without that vampire’s say.

They weren’t asleep.

Vampires didn’t sleep.

Brick frowned, looking between the two of them, trying to decide if he should snap them out of this now, or if he should call in some of the others to help him do it. He knew the state they were in. He recognized it, as well as the dangers that accompanied it, if he tried to break them apart in the wrong way, or if he did so without first making them coherent enough to see him clearly.

They were gorged on one another’s blood.

Or, much more likely, Brick thought with a grimace, Dorian had gorged himself on Naoko’s blood, feeding the newborn throughout the night on humans to keep him from getting too weak. If that was the case––and Brick knew with almost no doubt that it was––Dorian was now completely immersed in the mind and the memories of the newborn, exploring every detail of the life he could coax Naoko to recall.

Whatever the precise truth of it, they were both clearly drunk on the connection.

If they’d been going at this all night––or for several nights, if not several weeks, which Brick deemed far more likely based on the silence he’d observed from Dorian since at least the middle of the month––they were probably far gone enough by now that Brick could have set off a firearm in the room without disturbing them.

Well, perhaps not.

With any vampire but Dorian, that likely would have been the case; with Dorian, a different outcome was more likely.

With Dorian, he’d probably end up having to fight the other vampire off as the blood-drunk male protected his newborn fuck-toy from what he perceived as a dangerous intruder.

Brick’s annoyance ratcheted up a few notches.

He watched the two of them a few moments longer, noting the unmistakable expression of contentment on his friend’s face.

Brick had known Dorian was infatuated with the newborn.

He’d known it might even have been Dorian’s real reason for asking to train Naoko, whatever Dorian told himself about why he’d made the offer. If the infatuation hadn’t started before then, it definitely started after, when Naoko not only attacked him ferociously and tried to bolt, but eventually outsmarted him.

Brick had given his approval anyway.

He’d done it more out of logic and expediency than out of deference to his own feelings, which had been decidedly more mixed on the subject. In fact, he’d specifically ignored his personal feelings in this, much as it pained him to do so. He’d tried to do what was best for Naoko, and well as what was best for his people as a whole.

He found himself almost regretting that now.

He would have preferred to have been Naoko’s first.

He more or less told Dorian that, even as he gave him permission to do what he did.

Again, he could rationalize that decision now.

He’d known Dorian was right. Dorian really was the best choice for this.

Lucia was out of the question. Nairobi would have been too rough with him. Naoko simply hadn’t been afraid enough of Brick himself.

The implications of that last irritated Brick, too.

Subconsciously or not, Naoko saw Dorian as an alpha in their little pack, even more than he saw his rightful king that way––whatever lip service he might pay to Brick’s role and title. The fact that Brick had power over Dorian himself likely mattered little in that assessment, since it was wholly subconscious anyway.

Of course, Brick knew it wasn’t that simple.

Dorian seemed to think Naoko saw him, meaning Brick himself, as a kind of benign father-figure, not unlike how he saw his human father. Naoko had apparently been quite close to and fond of his human father, both as a child and an adult.

Whatever the precise case, Dorian clearly was the better choice for breaking in Naoko while he still needed a firm hand. Brick saw that, even before Dorian outlined his reasons in painstaking and maddeningly logical detail.

Still, Dorian didn’t have to so enjoy his self-appointed assignment quite so much. He’d obviously enjoyed it––and continued to enjoy it––with enough enthusiasm that Brick felt an overwhelming urge to break his friend’s neck where he lay.

Still, Naoko’s obvious compliance with Dorian’s sexual demands told Brick nothing concrete about whether Dorian’s attempt to train the youngster had been successful––meaning if he’d actually managed to bring Naoko somewhat to heel.

Looking at the two of them, Brick found himself thinking Dorian would probably say that he had, at least in the ways that mattered.

Brick wasn’t even sure he would disagree with him.

Naoko would have developed more of an understanding of the vampire mind from so many days spent sharing an elder’s blood.

That understanding alone would make him more compliant.

Dorian’s mind was logical. Through his blood, Naoko would have gained a firm and thorough grasp as to why their laws and rules were necessary, and why those laws would help to keep them all alive, especially now.

Moreover, Brick could see the submission on him, even from where he stood.

Dorian clearly had him trained to respond to his teeth and touch, at least to a degree. Of course, whether that would translate into Naoko being receptive to their words might be another matter entirely, especially once the novelty of getting properly fucked by a vampire who knew what he was doing wore off.

Still, Brick had to grudgingly give his friend credit.

Dorian had apparently done what he said he would.

Moreover, he’d managed it within the one month deadline Brick gave him.

At the thought, and the memory of what brought him here, Brick frowned again.

He also made a decision.

“Get up,” he snapped. “Now!”

He banged his Anubis-headed cane on the hardwood floor.

Naoko frowned, receding deeper into Dorian’s arms.

Dorian coiled those arms around him tighter, a bare flash of fang visible as his expression tightened, shifting to a near threat. His eyes still closed, he snarled softly, deep in his throat. He gripped Naoko even more tightly as Brick watched, his body coiling around the newborn’s with an overt protectiveness, mixed with a possessiveness Brick could not fail to notice.

As Brick suspected, Dorian would likely try to kill anyone who got too close to either of them right then––even Brick himself––unless Brick managed to snap him out of his drunken state prior to approaching. If Dorian remained too far inside Naoko’s blood, the older vampire would likely attack anyone who even might be a threat, especially to the newborn in his arms.

Brick didn’t intend to get that close.

Leaning down, he plucked a throw pillow off the floor instead, and threw it at the two of them, hitting Dorian in the head.

“GET UP!” He raised his voice, putting an element of thrall into it, trembling it with his own blood. He banged the cane on the floor. “DORIAN! THIS IS YOUR FUCKING KING. I REQUIRE YOUR PRESENCE. AND YOUR FULL ATTENTION. NOW.”

That time, Brick saw recognition flicker across his friend’s face.

After what felt like a long silence, one eye opened on that pale face.

When it did, Brick could only stare.

If he’d been human, he might have gasped.

The iris that met his was clear, the color of cracked crystal.

Brick’s jaw loosened as he continued to stare, doubting his own eyes. He continued to stare even as Dorian’s iris filled slowly with scarlet, reverting to the shade he knew.

Even so, that bare glimpse of crystal in Dorian’s eyes genuinely threw him.

“Did you need me, my king?” his second-in-command said, his voice as toneless and unreadable as always. “I apologize I have not checked in of late.”

Brick smirked at that, in spite of himself.

Even so, that pretense of nonchalance gave him pause.

It might have made him laugh under different circumstances, and with a different fuck-toy in Dorian’s bed. As it was, the utter flatness of that gaze, the indifference in his expression and that deep voice, came close to annoying him. More than any of that, it made him wary, if only for the utter transparency of the lie.

“Are you going to attack me, brother?” he said, quirking his eyebrow as Dorian slowly raised his head. “Am I safe to approach this little sex nest you’ve built here for our newborn? Or am I liable to get a limb torn off my body for my trouble? One that will no doubt be excruciatingly painful to grow back?”

Dorian glanced down at Naoko, who still hadn’t opened his eyes.

The black-haired newborn remained ensconced in Dorian’s arms and body, his fingers gripping the older vampire’s forearm, his teeth exposed in whatever dream where he remained. Dorian made no move to release him, but instead drew him tighter against him, as if to encase him more deeply in that protective bubble.

“Are you able to speak to me?” Brick said, his voice a touch sharper.

“Of course, my king.”

“You will do it here, I take it?” Brick said. “Naked? With my own blood shamelessly in your arms?”

Dorian tensed.

That time, Brick saw it.

“Careful, Dorian,” he breathed, softer.

His second immediately relaxed, his expression and muscles changing in swift increments as Brick watched. Brick felt his own fangs retract somewhat at the apology he saw rising in the other’s eyes.

“I know you are smitten, my love,” Brick said, his voice warmer that time, and significantly more sympathetic. “Looking at the two of you, I am quite jealous… so I do understand your feelings. But do not forget your place.”

“Never, my king.”

He said it so vehemently, with such force behind his words, Brick relaxed for real.

Even so, he found himself assessing the other vampire critically.

“Will he be in shape to travel?” he said. “Or do you need more time with him?”

Dorian’s mouth pursed, but that time in thought. He glanced down at Naoko, studying his face, then up at Brick.

“When were you thinking of taking this trip, my king?”

“In three days. Less, if he can manage it.” Frowning as he thought about what he’d just watched on the news, he gazed unseeingly at the wall above the bed. “I’m afraid we’re out of time, Dorian. Charles is clearly moving. Half of the Southern United States now burns with fires from his human mobs. They are closing off the borders. It is time to approach the seers in San Francisco. It is time to bring our proposal to Quentin, before it is too late.”

Dorian nodded to his words.

Still, as he looked down at Naoko, Brick saw conflict there, doubt.

More than that, he saw what might have been actual worry.

Brick watched him, frowning.

“What?” he said finally. “What is the matter? Is he ready? Or not?”

Dorian looked down at Naoko, at his closed eyes, then up at Brick.

“He is ready,” he said, sounding sure of his words. “Ready enough for what you need, I believe. But I confess,” the vampire added after a pause, his voice apologetic. “After witnessing his mind, I fear we may have miscalculated.”

Brick frowned, staring at him.

“What do you mean?” he said. “Miscalculated? In what way?”

Dorian continued to look at Naoko, watching the handsome face twitch and tighten, his own long jaw and mouth unmoving.

“With Naoko?” Brick pressed. “Or with Quentin Black?”

Dorian looked up.

His scarlet irises shone faintly.

“No,” he said. “Well… perhaps. Perhaps with Naoko himself. He understands more now, but we will need to keep an eye on him while we are there. He has more feelings towards Black than I had previously realized. He may have trouble controlling them once we are there. Once he is around seers in general.”

Brick frowned.

This was not news, not to him.

“I assumed,” he said. “He is still a newborn.”

He stared at his friend, puzzled when the other didn’t go on.

“Is that who you meant we miscalculated with?” Brick pressed, when Dorian still didn’t speak. “Are your misgivings around Naoko himself, my brother?”

Slowly, Dorian shook his head.

Looking up from newborn’s face, as if pulling himself out of whatever he felt there, Dorian frowned, his features uncharacteristically expressive.

“No,” he said grimly. “Not him either.”

He looked up, meeting Brick’s gaze.

“No,” he said seriously. “I meant Miri. I am worried we may have miscalculated in relation to Quentin Black’s wife… Miriam Fox.”