Jamie bit his lip against the stretch as Nick pushed into him. For a moment, he rode the edge of pain—but then something inside relaxed, and Nick grunted as he shoved further in, all the way to the hilt.

“Fuck,” Nick swore. He withdrew, almost all the way out, but before Jamie could whimper a protest, he buried himself again, with a twist of his hips that sent Jamie’s back to arching and his hands scrabbling on the damp rock for purchase. Stars of pleasure spangled his vision.

He reached for his cock, but Nick slapped away his hand. “Oh no,” he growled in Jamie’s ear. “You didn’t think I’d take it easy on you, did you?”

Jamie made a strangled sound, certain he’d never been more aroused in his life. Nick’s arm tightened around his waist—and then he started to thrust in earnest.

The rain swallowed Jamie’s moans, while Nick fucked him mercilessly. Nick’s arm around his waist, face nearly pushed into the wall, his body speared on Nick’s cock while his own ached for relief. He tried to brace his arms, to push back, but his strength was nothing against Nick’s. Somehow, that only made it more exciting.

“You like this, don’t you, witch?” Nick said—no, demanded, because of course he did, this was Nick after all. His teeth grazed the exposed back of Jamie’s neck.

“Bite me,” Jamie gasped, before he could think better of it.

Nick’s teeth closed on the back of his neck, not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to send a shock through Jamie. He groaned, and the sound or the act seemed to push Nick further to the edge. Nick’s big hand closed on Jamie’s prick, even as his hips drove harder. Jamie gave himself over to all of it: the grip tugging hard on his cock, the strong arm holding him up, the teeth in his neck and the prick in his arse.

The heat of the bond, burning in his chest like he’d swallowed a star.

His spunk hit the wall with the force of his release. Nick left off biting him, pressed his face into Jamie’s shoulder, and shuddered as he came.

Jamie blinked slowly. He felt bruised: his arms against the stone, the back of his neck. His arse, which would make sitting a reminder.

He wasn’t going to think about Wyatt right now. Especially not the murmur of guilt starting at the hind part of his brain.

Nick released him and pulled free. He didn’t say anything. Jamie hauled his drawers and trousers back up; by the time he’d buttoned his bracers, Nick had retreated to the Cave’s entrance.

Everything that had been so good moments before now felt horribly awkward. Jamie cleared his throat. “Nick…”

“Are there any bat familiars working for the MWP?” Nick asked abruptly.

Jamie gaped at him. It wasn’t that he expected a fuck against the wall to change anything between them, but at least Nick could look at him. “I…I don’t think so,” he said. “Why?”

“Because, whatever else he might be, this Wraith is flesh and blood.” Nick’s eyes remained fixed on the rain. It had slowed to a drizzle, drops ruffling the surface of the Lake and weighing down the orange and yellow leaves of the foliage clustered around the Cave’s opening. “What we need is for someone to keep an eye on the park at night, and report anything suspicious to us the moment they see it. An owl might do, but they’re slow fliers. If the MWP doesn’t have someone, I do.”

“Oh.” Jamie tried to focus on the case. “We should let Dominic and Rook know what we’re doing. What we discovered.”

“You do it. I’ll find Rodrigo.” Nick finally glanced Jamie’s way, though only for a second.

“He’s the bat?” Jamie asked.

“Yes. Don’t forget to make sure the MWP hands over the cash to pay him.” Nick took a step toward the entry, then paused. “Remember, you swore not to tell anyone about the ferals here in the park. Come up with whatever lie you like, but don’t breathe a word about Bess or the owl.”

“I won’t,” Jamie said. Nick looked as though he was about to leave, so he added, “Wait.”

Nick stopped. “What?”

God. Jamie’s cheeks burned, but he wasn’t going to let Nick walk out like nothing at all had happened. “It was good. You know.”

Nick swallowed, the brown skin of his throat working. “It won’t happen again.”

He spoke the words with such finality that Jamie couldn’t think how to answer. Nick ducked his dark head, hunched his shoulders, and vanished back out into the overcast fall day.

Jamie took his time getting back to the Coven. The encounter with Nick had left him off-balance and feeling as though he ought to be ashamed.

He hadn’t slept with anyone for over a year, hadn’t even wanted anyone. Too much pain, in his heart and his leg, to even think about it. And he’d chosen to break that drought with a man who wouldn’t even look him in the eye afterward?

To hell with Nick. Jamie knew he should have insisted on going with him to find this bat familiar, but after the way Nick had acted, he just wanted to put as much distance as possible between them.

Which maybe was what Nick had hoped for all along. Who could tell? Nick was an arse at the best of times. If Jamie had any sense, he’d forget what they’d done. Put it all behind them and get on with the job.

He found Dominic and Rook at their desk, stacks of hexes piled around them. Dominic looked exhausted, his eyes red as he peered carefully at one hex after the other, while Rook took notes on his observations. “Running you ragged, ain’t they?” Jamie asked with forced cheer.

Dominic’s lips pressed together as he put down the magnifying glass. Rook had no such reticence. “Running us in circles with pointless nonsense,” he said, glaring at the cheap paper hexes. “I hate this.”

Jamie hooked a spare chair from a nearby desk and dragged it over. He sank down with a wince, reminded despite himself of the encounter with Nick. Heat rose to his cheeks, and he prayed no one noticed. “What’s wrong?”

“The Police Board want us to be…thorough,” Dominic said carefully.

“By which they mean literally inspecting each and every hex to testify they were drawn by the same hand.” Rook flung up his own hands in frustration. “It’s stupid. If the first twenty are, surely the last twenty will be as well.”

“A random sample would be enough to issue a warrant,” Dominic said. “Should the perpetrator ever be caught, anyway. There would be plenty of time to go through them all before a trial.”

“So where is my dear brother?” Rook asked. “Galloped off on his own already?”

“Nay. We decided to split up.” Jamie shifted uncomfortably. “Get more than one thing done at a time.”

“I’ll bet,” Rook muttered. “Nick always—”

“Not now, Rook.” Dominic put a soothing hand to Rook’s arm. “I assume you came here to report, Jamie?”

“Aye. We questioned some potential witnesses.” He gave them the barest outline of what he and Nick had discovered, leaving the identities of the ferals vague enough no one would guess they lived in the park in animal form.

He left out the part about fucking Rook’s brother in the Cave, too.

“You just let Nick go off on his own, to bribe a civilian into becoming part of the investigation?” Rook asked when he finished.

“Ignore him,” Dominic said to Jamie. “Nothing about this investigation is going to be routine. Including keeping all this to ourselves, and not sharing our information with Ferguson.”

Jamie frowned. “We ain’t?”

“What he doesn’t know, the Police Board can’t easily find out.”

“Ah.”

The truth was, none of this sat well with him. There was a chain of command, and Jamie had been used to following it, even before he’d joined the army. Hurley had raised him to know his duty, take orders, and bend the rules only so far. Now here he was hiding the truth about ferals living illegally in the park and deliberately failing to report to the chief.

It was as though he’d stepped through a mirror the night Wyatt died, and found himself in some twisted version of reality. “We’ll keep at it, then.”

“Try to rein Nick in,” Rook said. “Make sure he includes you. I notice this bat familiar will be reporting to him, not you.” Rook ground his teeth. “Mark my words, given half the chance he’ll go galloping off alone and confront this Wraith character by himself, without any thought as to how dangerous it is. I’d prefer he not become the next victim.”

Jamie’s stomach twisted. However conflicted his feelings were at the moment, the thought of Nick getting hurt—sliced to pieces—made him sick.

Rook was Nick’s brother. Maybe he could shed some light on the puzzle that was Nick. “But why? He knows I’d help him, so why not work with me instead of taking off on his own?”

Dominic shrugged. “He doesn’t exactly trust witches.”

“I don’t fuck witches,” Nick had said. But that had turned out to be a lie.

“Then what about Rook?” Jamie asked. “Whatever bad blood is between you, and I ain’t asking you to say, surely he’d let you help.”

Rook let out a cawing laugh, but it held no humor. “Me? I’m the biggest traitor of all, according to Nick. I joined the MWP, when I could have stayed with him. Worked at his dive bar and slept in his apartment—what more could I possibly have wanted out of life?”

Jamie winced at the bitterness in Rook’s voice. Still… “That does sound like Nick. It’s a shame, though. Brothers shouldn’t let something like that come between them. Family’s about the only thing you can count on in this world, ain’t it?”

Rook took Dominic’s hand firmly in his. “Dominic is my family. And Cicero, silly cat that he is. Isaac. The rest.”

“What about Nick, though?” Jamie asked. “That is, does he have anyone?”

Nick seemed so…solitary. The other ferals obviously looked to him, trusted him, but Jamie hadn’t gotten so much as a hint there was anyone he could look to in turn. So he wasn’t surprised when Rook shrugged again. “Nick, need someone? That’s a laugh. It’s him against the world, don’t you know.”

Was that why Nick hadn’t wanted to look at Jamie, after buggering him against the wall? Because for just a moment, he’d let himself be…not alone?

But that would imply the sex meant something more than just a quick tumble, whether he’d meant it to or not.

Hell. Jamie felt more twisted up than a bag of eels.

Dominic sifted through the hexes piled on his desk. “Rook, would you mind flying down to Owen’s laboratory and getting a pair of those hexes he uses to test blood stains and the like?”

Rook frowned suspiciously. “Why?”

“It occurs to me we should have some on hand. Just in case.” Dominic’s attempt at innocence fooled no one. But Rook only shook his head, shifted into crow form, and glided away.

Dominic rubbed his forehead. “Now he’s singing bawdy songs through the bond, just to annoy me.”

“I take it you wanted to talk to me alone?” Jamie asked.

“I probably should have tried to be a bit more subtle about it.” Dominic rubbed his forehead a second time. “Dear lord, Rook, those aren’t even the proper lyrics.” He let out a sigh and sat back. “I only wanted to say that Rook and Nick might bicker, and refuse to see one another for months on end, but if something happened to Nick, it would break Rook’s heart.”

“You’re asking me to keep an eye on him,” Jamie guessed.

“He’s the last of Rook’s family.” Dominic met his gaze frankly. “I’d take it as a personal favor.”

“Aye.” Jamie levered himself to his feet. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Jamie didn’t have a desk, so he left the detective’s area. Maybe he’d sit in the stables for an hour or two, clear his head and consider what he ought to do next. He didn’t want Nick confronting the murderer alone, that was for certain. He wouldn’t have even if Dominic hadn’t felt the need to ask him.

Poor Nick. Nick, who would lose his mind if he knew Jamie felt even a flicker of pity for him. Too angry and proud to unbend even a little, who thought he could carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, with no family to rely on.

Muriel drove Jamie crazy, but if he’d had to make his way alone after he’d lost his leg, it would have been a thousand times harder. Having her to rely on, when he was still skinny and shaking, barely able to use a crutch let alone a prosthetic, had made all the difference. She’d given him a place to rest and recover, a refuge where he could try to put the war behind him and adjust to a life that wasn’t quite what he’d imagined.

Nick didn’t have that.

Had Wyatt?

It didn’t seem likely. Not if his mother and brother had belonged to some kind of anti-familiar church like the one that looney Ingram ran. They probably weren’t too keen on the fact Wyatt slept with men, either; those kind never liked anyone different from themselves. Even if Wyatt had been desperate enough to go to them, they would hardly have welcomed him with open arms.

Jamie touched the pendant hidden under his clothing. If only they could find where Wyatt had been staying, maybe they could discover some clue as to what he’d been doing. Even if it didn’t lead them to his killer, it would be nice to know if he’d had someone to rely on. Someone he could trust, the way he apparently hadn’t trusted Jamie.

“Jamie!”

Startled, Jamie looked up, and saw his uncle coming toward him. “Uncle Hurley? Is everything all right?”

Hurley beamed at him. “I only just heard the good news today.” He wagged a finger at Jamie. “Why didn’t you let me know you’d made detective?”

Jamie’s heart sank. It hadn’t even occurred to him to let Hurley know. If his arrangement with Nick was meant to be permanent, he would have brought Nick over to meet the family the first day.

But it was just a sham. Just an excuse for them to be able to investigate.

Uncle Hurley would be disappointed. Jamie knew he should tell him anyway, but the words stuck in his throat. So he merely shrugged. “They’ve been keeping us busy.”

“Good, good.” Hurley clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ve got some news of my own that calls for a bit of a celebration. Surely you’ve enough time to dine with your favorite uncle? ”

“You’re my only uncle,” Jamie pointed out with a grin. “But aye, I think I have the time.”

Fucking Jamie had been a mistake. Of all the stupid things he’d done in his life, this had to be at the very top of the list.

Nick shook his head as he clopped down the stairs to the cellar. When he’d left the Cave, he’d had every intention of pretending it had never happened. Forget the way Jamie’s hurt expression tugged at his heart. He’d wanted to pull the witch close again, kiss away the confused disappointment darkening Jamie’s particolored eyes.

Nick couldn’t stop thinking about it. The way Jamie had groaned, the taste of his skin when Nick bit his neck, the tight heat of his body around Nick’s prick. It made him hard all over again, which put paid to any hopes that fucking the witch once might have been enough. Instead, it seemed to have made things even worse.

Nick tried to convince himself it was just the accursed bond. But he knew better than that. Some bonded pairs fucked, and some—like his damned brother and Dominic—fell in love and made cow-eyes at each other. There were those who fell in love but didn’t give a damn about sex. Some were good friends, but either had other people, or didn’t care for either love or fucking.

So it wasn’t the fault of the bond, but Nick’s own damned stupidity. Jamie was Inspector O’Malley’s nephew. Jamie might not be virulently anti-familiar, but he’d been quick enough to argue his uncle’s case. If he had the slightest notion what Nick had hidden down here, Nick would probably end up hauled off to the Menagerie alongside his charges.

What had happened in the Cave had been insanity, nothing less. It couldn’t—wouldn’t—happen again.

Assuming Jamie would even be willing, the way Nick had acted toward him.

Nick opened the hidden door in the cellar far more forcefully than he needed to. Before his eyes could even adjust to the dim light of the lantern, hands seized him by the vest.

He swung without even thinking, heard a grunt as his fist connected with flesh. He’d been spoiling for a fight all afternoon, and there was a strange sort of relief in being able to finally have a target. He twisted to avoid a knee to the groin, grabbed a handful of clothing, and slammed his attacker into the wall.

“Stop!” Rachel shouted.

Nick blinked, his eyes adjusting. Conrad glared at him, yellow eyes bright with fury. “Let go of me, horse,” he snarled, and there was a bit of the tiger’s growl in the warning.

“What the hell was that all about?” Nick asked, tightening his grip.

Conrad hissed, lips drawing back from his teeth. “We’re tired of sitting in this trap of yours.” He wrenched himself free, and this time Nick let him go. “How much longer do you think we’ll wait?”

Nick took a deep breath, tamping down on his anger. The small room had taken on the natural smells of too many people and not enough fresh air. “Not much longer.”

“It’s always night down here,” Rachel said. She looked anxious, though, not angry like Conrad. “We haven’t seen the sun in…I don’t know. It’s impossible to keep track of time, with nothing but the lantern.”

“I want to go home,” said one of the younger ferals. He kicked morosely at the floor.

“I know you’re afraid,” Nick began.

“We’re not afraid.” Conrad made a show of wiping his sleeve clean, like a cat licking itself. “We’re sick of waiting for the coppers to find us.”

Nick’s temper reached its limit. He poked a finger into Conrad’s chest. “You go running off without a plan, you’re as good as caught.”

“Maybe, but I don’t hear you offering any plans,” Conrad retorted.

“Then stop complaining and listen up.” Nick glared at him. “I’ve managed to find one of Wyatt’s contacts. The one who arranged things with the ferry boat captain.”

Fur and feathers, it hadn’t been easy. After he talked to Rodrigo about keeping watch on the park, he’d trudged all over Manhattan, hunting down any information. He still hadn’t been able to find out anything about Wyatt, or where the eagle had been staying, but he’d made more progress than anyone else could have.

As Rook had said at the beginning of all this mess, Nick knew half the ferals in New York, if not more. Not just knew them—he had their trust. Because he’d proved himself over and over again, putting the welfare of ferals ahead of everything else in his life.

Maybe it had cost him: friends, family. Lovers. But he had to believe it was worth the sacrifice.

“I’ve sent a note,” Nick said. “I need to coordinate with the ferry captain. But with any luck, you’ll be on your way in two or three days.”

“Praise God,” Rachel said, closing her eyes fervently.

“We’d better be.” Conrad took a step forward, back into Nick’s personal space.

Damn it, he was tired. He’d spent hours tramping around the island, until his feet and legs ached. Now he faced a long night at the saloon, half-hoping, half-dreading Rodrigo showed up in the middle of it with news about the killer.

Conrad was tired too, surely, of the tiny space and its four walls. But Nick decided he didn’t care at the moment.

Nick echoed the step, so they were right up in each other’s faces. “You want to leave?” Nick asked. “You want to find your own food, transportation, and water? Well, go to hell. You can’t.”

Conrad’s eyes widened, but Nick only pointed at the young ferals. “I don’t give a damn if you get caught and shipped off to the Menagerie. Not with your attitude. But them? You run, and you’re putting everyone at risk. You might think you wouldn’t give the coppers anything, but after a few days of accommodations that make this cellar look like a palace? No food, no water? Some people might stand that sort of treatment, sure, but I won’t take the risk you’re one of them.” He let his arm drop. “So sit down. And you grab me like that again, I promise you’ll be sorry.”

Conrad’s yellow eyes sparked. But he took a slow step back.

“Fine,” he said. Having to get in the last word. “But don’t take too long.”

Nick stepped to the door. “It’ll take as long as it takes,” he said. And shut the door before Conrad could respond.