The entire house seemed to hold its breath. Between Faolan’s kiss the night before and the invitation Jonathan had received from the New Orleans Vampire leadership earlier in the day, everyone was on edge. Jonathan would go, of course. Dougal would be right at his side. All he could do was hope the locals didn’t plan to chop off Jonathan’s head at first sight. Just in case, Dougal loaded his belt with weapons. He wore his kilt so he could hide as many as possible. They were only minutes away from leaving and Dougal found himself wishing he could steal another moment alone with Faolan. If he died tonight, the awkward way they’d left things the night before would stay that way forever. As if Faolan heard his thoughts, Dougal felt his approach. When the man’s fingers brushed through his hair, Dougal fought to keep his eyes open. Faolan tugged as he separated the length of Dougal’s hair into three parts and braided them together.

Dougal held still and let it go on. “Who are you today?”

“I’m me,” Faolan said in a quiet tone. “I’m always me.”

Dougal took a deep breath and jumped in because they couldn’t avoid the topic forever. “Last night you weren’t.”

“Not completely, but I was still me.”

Even as Faolan finished braiding his hair, Dougal slipped his gun into his holster. After pulling off a braided leather band from his wrist, Faolan pulled it apart and used one of the pieces to secure Dougal’s hair. With his hair out of the way, Faolan’s lips touched Dougal’s shoulder and lingered. “Stay safe out there tonight.”

An unexpected chuckle escaped Dougal. “Jonathan find trouble? Never.”

Faolan’s laughter caressed Dougal’s skin, making butterflies stir in his gut. “Just come home to me.”

Dear Goddess, his heart and mind were torn. He didn’t know how to respond. Questions rattled through his brain. He didn’t have the time or courage to ask. “I’ll bring our king home in one piece.”

“What’s this? Are you worried about me getting blood on my boots and ruining them before you can steal them?”

At Jonathan’s sudden appearance behind them, Faolan didn’t move away right away. Instead, he pressed another kiss to Dougal’s shoulder, freezing Dougal in place. As far as Faolan knew, Jonathan knew nothing about their past. Yet he didn’t seem to care who saw him.

The giant vamp’s heat separated from his back, leaving Dougal chilled as he turned to Jonathan. “It’s called sharing, my king. I know you’re all stingy-like, keeping all your nice clothes, kisses, and computers to yourself.” Dougal bit back a laugh at the quick way Faolan said “kisses” as if Jonathan wouldn’t catch it hidden in there.

“My clothes wouldn’t fit you. You’ve never used a computer in your life, and my kisses... well, if you want to try it, let’s sit down and wait for Niall and Cin.”

“I’m in. My only regret is I can only die once for a single kiss.”

That made Dougal turn. He had to see Jonathan’s reaction. Dougal might’ve been jealous if he didn’t know Faolan. The man was never serious until it came to seduction, then he was focused and deliberate. Jonathan’s laughter was worth Dougal’s attention. The man had the weight of the world on his shoulders, but he never let them see it.

Instead of buying in to Faolan’s ridiculousness, Jonathan settled onto the nearest chair. “We have a minute and we’re all friends here who share everything. I’ve already lost three pairs of boots to you. It’s someone else’s turn to put out. I’ll wait while you kiss Dougal.”

Dougal was halfway through strapping a knife to his belt. He went still. His gaze moved over both men. Jonathan smiled like an indulgent parent. Faolan’s usual cocky expression slipped away, replaced with a hint of insecurity. He didn’t think Dougal would let him kiss him. It was written all over his face. Dougal wouldn’t have if not for that look.

Rather than forcing Faolan to battle with his emotions and have someone choose for Dougal... again, Dougal quickly closed the distance between them. He pressed his lips to Faolan’s without giving the man time to reject him. He meant to move away as quickly, but he didn’t. The instant their lips met, everything inside Dougal lit like a rocket. He didn’t forget they had a witness, but he also couldn’t move away.

By the time Dougal pulled away, he was breathless. For a moment, they stared at one another in silence before Dougal broke. “I’m sorry.”

Faolan’s brows drew together. “For what?”

Dougal shrugged. Things were awkward. He felt an overwhelming need to apologize for everything.

Jonathan came to the rescue. “I hate to interrupt this, but we’re running short on time, and I have a serious problem.”

He had their attention. They both turned Jonathan’s way, but Faolan spoke first. “Lay it on us.”

“I don’t know what the hell I’m doing,” Jonathan said, sounding calm, but the panic was in his eyes. Dougal was a little surprised the man had held himself together this long. “Do I show up there tonight full Nephilim or go as me? If I’m going as Nephilim, I have a clothing issue. Which brings up a whole new set of problems. I’ve only changed once while wearing anything other than workout shorts, nothing at all, or a sheet, and it didn’t go well. Actually, I shredded a t-shirt. It’s just a guess, but I’m thinking growing by two feet won’t go well in jeans.”

It dawned on Dougal that Jonathan wasn’t worried about any of the things he’d be worried about in the man’s place. Instead of fearing an attack or wondering what his place was in the world, he was having an outfit crisis. The man never ceased to amaze him with his depth of strength.

“You bring up a good point,” Faolan said, sounding too serious to be real. “Now I can’t stop picturing all the possibilities. What else grows when you get taller? How much more jealous should I be of Niall and Cin?”

Jonathan smirked. An unexpected bark of laughter escaped Dougal. Faolan always met his match when flirting with Jonathan.

“Are we going or what?” Niall said, appearing in the doorway.

“Aye,” Faolan said, squaring his shoulders as if he hadn’t been drooling over Niall’s man.

Niall focused on Jonathan. His features softened. A hot streak of unexpected jealousy shot through Dougal. He wanted what they had. All he’d ever wanted was what they shared. It was always just out of reach. “With luck, we’ll be back shortly. Once we scope the place out, Faolan will come back here and ensure the house isn’t burned down while Cin and Dougal escort you there. We won’t let anything happen to you.”

Jonathan flashed a sweet smile. “I’m not worried.”

Niall couldn’t have looked prouder as he leaned down and captured Jonathan’s lips in a quick kiss. “My heart,” Niall whispered before Faolan and he disappeared.

The moment they were alone, Dougal and Jonathan glanced each other’s way. A silent message passed between them. Their men had just gone into the unknown together. Anything could happen. It didn’t matter Faolan didn’t really belong to him. Dougal wouldn’t survive the loss. The tension was too much. Dougal tried breaking it. “You need a kilt.”

“What?” Jonathan asked with laughter lacing his voice.

Dougal nodded, clinging to the topic. “I think a shirt will be out of the question, but if you wore a kilt, you’d be free to grow.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Jonathan said, sounding thoughtful. “I think all of this,” he said, motioning toward Dougal, “is sexy as fuck in a kilt, but they look complicated and I don’t look like you.”

To his surprise, Dougal found himself blushing at the compliment. It took him a minute to decide why before he puzzled things out—Jonathan meant it. He wasn’t calling Dougal sexy to hit on him or blow smoke up his ass. Jonathan said things with ease that meant everything to others. He was a treasure.

“If you change your mind,” Dougal said, trying to stay on topic, “I’d be more than happy to teach you how. It’s not that hard. Really, it’s just a matter of rolling into it.”

The way Jonathan nodded had Dougal believing the man genuinely hung on every word. “Maybe one day when I’m not in danger of doing it wrong and having my clothes fall to the floor in front of a room full of strangers.”

“Aye,” Dougal said, seeing his point. “Probably best you have a little practice first.”

Faolan and Niall reappeared still intact. Dougal released a pent-up breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He eyed Faolan, searching for injuries. Faolan winked. Another steady breath filled Dougal’s lungs. Niall had a dark look about him. That detail caught and held Dougal’s attention.

“They’re in an open and busy area,” Niall said, not looking happy about it despite that being good news. “It’s a store in the center of all the nightlife here, so they can’t do anything without tons of witnesses.”

“I sense a ‘but.’”

“But,” Niall said with a sardonic smile. “We spent a few minutes eavesdropping, and it’s obvious they expect Jonathan to be full Nephilim when he arrives. I think anything less will give them the impression he’s weak.”

Dougal’s and Jonathan’s gazes met. Dougal nodded toward the door to the weapon’s room. His bedroom was across the hall. “Let’s go. I’ll make sure you’re good and tight.”

Jonathan stood. Niall eyed them both with suspicion. Jonathan brushed his fingers down the man’s arm. “Just give us a minute. I’ll proudly go as a gigantic bird. It’s not like I’ll stand out in the New Orleans party crowd.”

Dougal led the way across the hall. The moment they were alone, Jonathan stripped and transformed. Since Dougal knew how private of a person Jonathan was, he did his best to be quick and efficient. Unfortunately, the moment he had Jonathan wrapped in full Hellish clan gear, he found himself staring like the worst of whores. Jonathan looked like a Scottish god. His gold eyes shimmered in the light and he watched Dougal in stoic silence.

Dougal cleared his throat. The words escaped before he could call them back. “Damn, Jonathan. If your men don’t fook you tonight after seeing you like this, I’m gonna.”

To his surprise, a smile stretched Jonathan’s lips. He sat and laced up his work boots as he responded. “I take that as the highest of compliments. Now I get to walk through New Orleans as a gigantic shirtless bird in a kilt. Just like I’ve always wanted.”

Dougal shook his head at Jonathan’s dry tone. “No time like the present,” Dougal pointed out when Jonathan stood, looking ready to go.

Jonathan followed Dougal from the room. Niall and Cin waited outside, obviously getting stir crazy with the need to get this night over with. Faolan had already disappeared—mostly likely doing his rounds of the perimeter. Dougal bit back a laugh as Cin and Niall caught their first glimpse of Jonathan. He didn’t think he’d have to pick up the men’s slack when this was over. Dougal hadn’t seen the two look hungrier in years.

“Goddamn,” Niall breathed.

Cin nodded. “Ditto.”

“Let’s get this shit show on the road,” Dougal said, adding his two cents. He couldn’t hang around all this open happiness too much longer. Dougal was one guard for three kings. If he let life kick him in the balls now, he might fail at the only thing he had left—keeping his clan whole.

* * *

There was a real possibility Jonathan might puke. He hoped he did a good job of hiding his nervousness, but seriously. It was bad. Luckily, he didn’t stand out at all as they walked down Bourbon. People were packed like smelly sardines and—oddly—Jonathan wasn’t the only one with wings. Of course, his were the only ones that were real. Two doors up from their destination, the crowd came to a sudden stop. Someone fingered his feathers. Jonathan glanced over, catching the college-age man rubbing one between his fingers.

Jonathan’s nerves got the best of him. He didn’t bother hiding his fangs. “It’s rude to stroke another man’s wings without permission.”

The guy immediately dropped his hand. “Sorry, dude.”

Dougal’s chuckle at his back had Jonathan’s irritation slipping away. “Am I allowed to stroke your feathers?”

Before Jonathan could respond, Cin tossed an angry look over his shoulders. “No.”

Jonathan bit his bottom lip to keep from laughing. Vampires heard everything. Cin’s jealousy was fucking sexy. He lost the battle against the chuckle rising in his throat as he felt Dougal’s palm stroke down his wing—openly defying Cin. Jonathan caught the man’s eye. “I felt that.”

“I knew you would,” Dougal said with a wink.

Dougal’s smile eased Jonathan’s nerves. At least one thing was going right. Maybe it was baby steps, but Dougal seemed to be improving. That thought gave him hope he wouldn’t be a complete failure at this huge task that had been thrust upon him.

Outside the door of the voodoo shop, Cin pulled him to a stop. “I know you’re silently freaking out,” he whispered against Jonathan’s ear. “Don’t. We’ve got you, and maybe you’re not used to being a king yet, but Niall’s been a prince his whole life.”

As far as pep talks went, it wasn’t over the top, but it went far at soothing Jonathan. “I’m not worried,” he lied while keeping his thoughts blocked.

For a moment, Cin eyed his features before giving him a sharp nod. “Here goes nothing.” As a group, they filed inside the tiny shop. Everything inside fell silent. All eyes turned Jonathan’s way. He didn’t smile. His lips being firmly sealed was the only thing keeping him from throwing up.

There were only four men present. Two were identical in every way, down to their hairstyle. Their dark hair and blue eye combination most likely made it easy for them to capture any prey without too much mind control. The man behind the counter was the leader of this band. Jonathan could feel his power. He was old. His dark-blond closely trimmed beard and short cropped hair didn’t show a single hint of gray, but he was much older than anyone else in the room. The fourth man clung to the shadows and kept his gaze averted.

“Are you a Scot?” the blond asked, surprising Jonathan with his deep Cajun accent.

“I’m American.” Jonathan thought it over, and added, “By birth.” His clan moved in tighter. He could feel their collective pride, and Jonathan couldn’t stop himself from taking it a step further. “I’m a Scot by the grace of Goddess Celeste.”

A round of “Aye” went up around him, making Jonathan smile and the Cajuns laugh.

“Are we meant to bow and scrape to you now?” the man in the shadows asked. His voice reminded Jonathan of a pirate.

“Maybe later,” Jonathan answered, since he had no idea.

“You’ve got yourself two mates, I see,” the blond pointed out.

Jonathan nodded. He’d yet to figure out how other vampires knew who was mated to whom.

“That’s good. A blessing meant for only the strongest vampires. That’s real good,” Blondy said. Jonathan fought the urge to shift uncomfortably beneath the collective stares. The man motioned toward the door. “Evan, go turn that lock and flip the sign to closed.” One of the twins nodded before doing as told. The blond focused on him once more. “I’m Baptiste. These two,” he said, motioning between the twins, “are Ethan and Evan. That one in the corner is Dante.” Jonathan nodded at each. “We’re your welcome committee. The real crowd is out back. We figured you’d come prepared for an attack, and a smaller group might be best at first. Being as how you’re Celeste’s blood, we have no desire to end up like Adair. You have nothing to fear from us, but we’d like to know if you intend to screw up what already works or help us clean up the messes that don’t.”

Jonathan didn’t know if he’d walk out back and find himself dead. He had no reason to believe Baptiste. If this man was the leader, as Jonathan suspected, he’d want reassurances. All Jonathan had was honesty. “I’m as surprised to find myself king as you are to have me. Goddess Celeste doesn’t make mistakes. You’ve existed a long time without me. I imagine you’ll exist a long time if I’m gone. The only reason I came to New Orleans at all is because we’re hunting Mammon.”

“Mammon,” Baptiste said, scratching his beard. “He doesn’t come here. This is the Big Easy. A poor man’s resting place. Mammon likes to be where the money is—where greed lives. Las Vegas. New York. That’s where you’ll find him.”

I’ve been getting hang-up calls from a New York area code.

Coincidence?

Jonathan thought over Niall’s mental question. I don’t know. I don’t guess Mammon would call.

“Thanks for the tip. I’m ready to meet your family,” Jonathan said, nodding toward the back door. “I can feel their curiosity rising. They’re likely to storm the door any second.”

Dante snorted. “You can feel them?” His question dripped with condescension.

Jonathan focused on the man. He didn’t hold back, giving in to all his power. Judging by Dante’s expression, Jonathan looked every bit the Nephilim he was at the moment. “I feel everything and everyone. You’re scared I’ll find out your secrets. No one in my clan cares you have a werewolf lover.” He headed for the back door without waiting for an invitation. The power pulsing through his veins led his action. These men needed to see his strength. He’d show it to them. Jonathan paused beside Dante and met the man’s emerald gaze. “I’ll keep the rest of your secrets private. Kudos, by the way. I caught a glimpse of your alpha.” Dante blushed and Jonathan knew he had the man in his corner. One down, six million to go.