For the most part, Baptiste’s Voodoo shop ran itself. Being in the heart of the French Quarter helped. People came to New Orleans looking to escape, whether it be through alcohol or a spell. Baptiste only served up one of those things. Most of the items lining the shelves were harmless. He had one or two regular customers who needed the real thing. Occasionally, he caught glimpses of people’s worries, and he ensured they left with the right poppet for protection. After all, monsters were real. So too was Baptiste’s magic. No one needed to know that beyond his vampire brethren—Ethan, Evan, and Dante. Dante had been his friend for more years than Baptiste could count, while the twins, Ethan and Evan, had only been around since Baptiste lost his mates three years ago. He’d taken the men into his home, and he depended on them more than they’d ever know.

With Ethan and Evan’s help, the shop didn’t require his presence to keep running, but sometimes Baptiste liked sitting among the positive vibes while soaking up the hope of humans. No such emotion came to him organically any longer. A gorgeous blond Scotsman, wearing a kilt, drew more than one admiring glance as he cleared the doorway. Baptiste eyed the man for another reason. He was no man. If anyone looked closely enough, they’d spot the iridescent glow to his eyes. Most people’s gazes never went that high when admiring the vampire king’s personal guard. His body screamed hard labor and demanded lingering stares. He moved like a predator. The deadly vampire had killed many, many people in his years on earth. The Druid in Baptiste could hear their screams. Still, Baptiste was glad for the man’s presence. His race needed strong men. After all, the enemy knew no mercy. Dougal’s presence could only mean one thing—he’d been summoned by the king.

Baptiste circled the counter and met the guard halfway. He pasted on a smile. “Dougal. It’s been a while.”

Dougal dipped his chin. “Baptiste.” The man’s eyes and hard features caught the light. Baptiste found himself staring. Dougal truly was magnificent. Baptiste had heard rumors of the past king of Scotland’s fascination with Dougal. In Dougal’s presence, Baptiste believed them all. “Jonathan has sent me to ask, if you’re free, if you’d come for a visit.”

“Have things been too quiet for him?” Baptiste laughed at his own inquiry to hide his discomfort.

The guard smirked. Baptiste stifled a sigh. Dougal was damn beautiful. “We are verra unaccustomed to sitting still, it’s true. I believe this is no more than a social call. Jonathan isn’t one…” Dougal stared into space for a second. He blinked, and a chuckle escaped him. “I started to say Jonathan isn’t one to look for trouble, but the opposite is true. Not only does he often go looking, he tends to always find it.”

Despite his bad humor today, Baptiste found himself smiling. He could picture Jonathan being just as Dougal described. “How can I resist that offer?” He cast a look at the bright sun still shining outside the shop. “There’s no way you dissipated this early in the day.” He couldn’t. The sun dampened a vampire’s powers.

“I took the bus,” Dougal said, surprising a chuckle from Baptiste. He couldn’t imagine the looks he must’ve gotten.

Baptiste waved for Dougal to follow him to the back of the shop. “We’ll take my car.” Baptiste was hyper aware of the giant guard behind him. It wasn’t that he expected an attack, or maybe he did. Baptiste had been walking on his toes for so long, he no longer knew who his friends were. His black Tahoe sat in the shade, saving them somewhat from the heat. It took a minute for the fifteen-year-old SUV to cool down, even with the air on full blast.

“Sorry,” Baptiste said, trying to fill the silence. “I don’t drive often enough to worry over getting a newer car.”

“I do nay drive at all.” Dougal kept his gaze locked ahead as he made the claim, doing nothing to alleviate Baptiste’s discomfort.

“You should learn. It could save your life someday.”

Dougal glanced over. His expression was clear of all emotion. “I know how. I just don’t. At least, not here. It’s too crowded for my blood.”

“Oh.” Baptiste sifted through his thoughts, doing his damnedest to think of something to say as he drove. “How are you liking it here?”

“It’s hot,” Dougal said, doing nothing to help move their conversation along.

“I’m sorry.”

Dougal’s tone never wavered from bland. “You apologize a lot.”

“Sorry.” Baptiste bit his bottom lip. “I’m socially inept,” he confessed, hoping to make things better.

“I can tell.” At Dougal’s response, Baptiste decided to hold his tongue. Dougal obviously didn’t care to talk, and Baptiste wasn’t good at it, so he let it go. The king didn’t live that far. Conversation was unnecessary. “There’s nay wrong with being odd,” Dougal said, finally breaking the silence. “My mate Faolan is a clown. Sometimes, he’s a lot to handle.”

Baptiste turned the image of the large ginger with amethyst eyes over in his head. He couldn’t picture such a man being a jokester, but his mate would know. Before he knew it would happen, and with his gaze locked on the road, Baptiste found himself talking about something he never did. “My mate, Eirik, he was very much at odds with his appearance too. He was a Viking. A real one. His body was covered from head to foot in tattoos and deep scars from back when he was human. Back when such things were as painful as possible. When he looked at people, they would shy away because he looked mean.” A smile touched Baptiste’s lips. He could see Eirik as clear as he had the day they’d met. Piercing gray eyes. Long, blond braid hanging over one shoulder. “Then he’d open his mouth and floor you with how soft spoken he was.”

“Do you wish to be with him in the afterlife, rather than being here?” Dougal asked, pulling Baptiste from his memories.

There was no condemnation in Dougal’s question. It was obviously a feeling the man understood. Baptiste rubbed his chest. “Every day.”

“It seems like I recall hearing something about him being a leader around here.”

Baptiste nodded. “He was hard but fair, so people came to him when they had a problem, hoping he’d intervene on their behalf. When he passed, people started coming to me instead. It sort of stuck. That’s the only reason I ended up being the new leader around here. Otherwise…” Baptiste waved toward himself and flashed Dougal a smile. “Awkward.”

Dougal’s laughter eased some of the tightness in Baptiste’s chest. The tension left the air. The king’s house came into view. The large ranch-style home was surrounded by trees, closing them off from the rest of the world. It also made it easy for Jonathan’s guards to detect any intruders in time to protect their king. Baptiste’s comfort lasted for as long as it took him to get inside. Faolan and Jonathan sat at the kitchen table with Lire, the demon. The tiny hairs on the back of Baptiste’s neck stood. The king’s tolerance for demons wasn’t a feeling Baptiste shared. This one was powerful. It didn’t matter that Celeste trusted him. Baptiste never would. He knew firsthand the damage they could cause.

Jonathan stood and met Baptiste halfway. “Hi. I’m so glad you had time for us,” Jonathan said, shaking Baptiste’s hand and leading him to the table. Dougal plopped down in the chair Jonathan had vacated between Lire and Faolan. Lire evaporated, becoming one with Faolan just long enough to kiss Dougal before reappearing where he’d been seated. Jonathan pulled out a chair across from Dougal, leaving Baptiste no other choice but to sit. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the demon and his mates. When Eirik had been alive, Baptiste had been in the same position as the three people sitting across from him. A triad of two vampires and a demon. It had been a mistake. Demons destroyed everything from the inside out, even matings.

“Would you like some coffee?”

“Um.” Baptiste had nothing. His mind wouldn’t budge from the three.

“You’ll have coffee,” Jonathan said, moving to the counter and pouring Baptiste a cup. He came back, holding out the mug for Baptiste to take.

“Where are your mates?” Baptiste asked Jonathan, making conversation as he accepted the cup. The need to stare at the demon in the room tore at his skin. He didn’t like this. If he’d known the demon would be here, Baptiste wouldn’t have come.

Jonathan smiled. His dimples showed, giving Baptiste something else to focus on. “Scotland. Niall’s brother has taken over as king there. Cin and Niall are participating in their yearly games. Sort of a diplomatic mission.”

Despite everything, a smile touched Baptiste’s lips. “They’re playing.”

At Baptiste’s observation, Jonathan’s smile grew. His eyes, which already resembled a pot of leprechaun’s gold, shimmered even brighter. “Yes. They’re playing. These poor guys,” he said, waving at the two vamps and one beast at the table, “got screwed. They’re stuck guarding me.”

“Nay,” Dougal and Faolan said at the same time. It was Dougal who elaborated. “I have no wish ever to return to that place.”

Baptiste couldn’t imagine leaving New Orleans and never setting foot there again. Much less never wanting to return. Curiosity ate at him. He wondered if the rumors he’d heard about Dougal and Niall’s father were why the men didn’t wish to return to Scotland. It wasn’t his business. Baptiste blinked several times, trying his ass off to keep his thoughts to himself. His mouth won. “I don’t know how to change the topic to something less intrusive.” A nervous laugh escaped him. “Sorry. I’m socially awkward.” Like they hadn’t noticed. His smile felt more like a grimace. “That’s why I rarely visit,” he tacked on, because no one was responding, and he couldn’t stop trying to fill the silence. Still, no one spoke. Baptiste’s shoulders fell. It seemed the comfort he’d found in the car, talking to Dougal, was gone. He rubbed his arms. In the privacy of his home and shop, Baptiste was free to be the functioning demon addict. Here, with a demon and his king watching, Baptiste barely stopped himself from flipping out. He massaged his left hand. He could feel everyone’s eyes upon him, burning into his skin. Baptiste’s gaze shot around the room, avoiding eye contact. He hated when the comfort of the norm evaded him. Baptiste couldn’t stop the overwhelming feelings engulfing him.

“How long has it been since your mate died?”

Baptiste’s gaze dropped to his chest. That was how certain he was he’d been stabbed in the heart at Lire’s question. The pain never lessened. He rubbed his arms again. The feeling of being exposed grew. “What?”

Lire waved a dismissive hand in his direction. “Only losing a mate causes the type of distress you’re constantly in. How long has it been?”

A wave of unadulterated fury rose inside Baptiste. The demon spoke of things he didn’t understand. Baptiste wanted to rip his throat out. His voice came out sounding as hard as Baptiste’s face felt. “You’re a mystery to me,” Baptiste said instead of answering. “Why are you here?” He was incapable of not poking the demon even though it was so much worse than poking a bear. “Sometimes, you’re here in body. Other times, you’re here in spirit. Either way, you’re always here, muddying the waters with your evil.”

“He is our blood mate,” Dougal growled, motioning between Faolan and himself, and transforming from the clan beauty to deadly warrior in an instant, all illusions of friendship gone. The man came to his feet, already reaching for his blade. His fangs bared, ready to defend his mate, as he should. Baptiste didn’t doubt for a second the giant vampire felt his rage. He also couldn’t pretend there wasn’t a small part of him that hoped Dougal would strike, taking away Baptiste’s never-ending pain.

Jonathan brushed his fingers down Dougal’s back, and the man melted back into his seat.

Baptiste went on alert. He was a guest here and pissing off the king’s guard shouldn’t be on his to-do list. Before Baptiste could apologize, Lire slammed into Baptiste’s mind. As clear as if it was happening, Baptiste saw himself nude—ass up and face pressed into his mattress. Lire’s hard body weighed down on him.

“I can be as solid as I please,” Lire whispered, sounding deadly as his dick stretched Baptiste’s asshole wide without mercy inside his head. Like that, Baptiste was hard, panting, and on the edge of orgasm. The image of Lire transformed, becoming smoke. Baptiste’s body absorbed him like water. It was as if Lire wore his skin. His limbs became Lire’s. His thoughts, Lire invaded them all. None of it was real, but Baptiste couldn’t tell the difference any longer. “Or I can be as incorporeal as I want. I can be a part of you, controlling you, and ensuring you feel every passion I desire. You would beg to do my bidding.” Baptiste forcefully shoved Lire from his mind. The images disappeared, leaving Baptiste light-headed and off balance as he stared at Lire across the table from him. Lire looked intrigued by Baptiste’s ability to take back control of his mind. Still, even though Lire had never moved, he’d made his point, and mentally wrecked Baptiste. “But, you already knew what I could do. Didn’t you, Baptiste?”

Fucking demons. They were all the same. Possibly the king thought he had this one housebroken, but it wasn’t true. Demons couldn’t be tamed. They leveled everything. It was only a matter of time before the one sitting across from Baptiste brought down this entire household. Baptiste wasn’t fooled by his act.

Spite rose inside Baptiste, taking control of his mouth. “Don’t you want to know how I did it? Aren’t you curious why you can’t see who it is? How I’m stopping you from taking complete control of my mind?”

Everyone looked between Lire and Baptiste with open curiosity. As if watching a tennis match, waiting to see who’d win. There was no way they could know what had gone on mentally between them. No doubt, their conversation seemed odd to everyone else.

Baptiste didn’t let up. He pulled his necklace up and over his head before holding it out to Dougal. “I expect this back.” He enunciated every word, leaving no doubt he’d kill to retrieve the item. “Put it on.”

Dougal glanced Lire’s way. When Lire dipped his chin, Dougal accepted the necklace. He pulled it over his head. His eyebrows rose in question.

Baptiste switched his attention Lire’s way. He motioned toward Dougal. “You should kiss your man. I imagine it’s been a while since you’ve done so with your own lips.”

Dougal’s expression turned panicked. His gaze swung between them. “I’m not—”

Lire kissed him. They were both stiff, as if expecting the worse. Dougal was the first to melt. He touched Lire’s face. Baptiste thought he’d feel smug and triumphant when Lire realized Baptiste held all the answers to freeing him from using one mate to touch the other. Instead, he just felt petty and empty. They were all equally at the mercy of cruel circumstance. When Lire tore his mouth away and stormed from the room, Baptiste’s self-hatred doubled. Dougal’s expression was devastated as he watched Lire disappear. Baptiste tried looking anywhere but at the man he’d hurt for no other reason than pettiness. Because he needed them down in the dirt where he lived. His gaze landed on Jonathan.

Jonathan’s golden eyes stared a hole through Baptiste. I see you. His king’s words rang through his mind like hot coals. I see all of you.

“You take this one,” Jonathan said to Faolan unnecessarily, since the man was already rubbing Dougal’s back. “I’ve got Lire,” he added, following Lire from the room.

Faolan tugged Dougal into his arms, wrapping him in his embrace and comforting his mate. Baptiste couldn’t look away. He saw nothing. Misery truly did love company, but he didn’t feel better about himself for dragging the throuple down to his level. Instead, he realized how loving Kallus had corrupted his soul.

Dougal kept his gaze averted as he handed Baptiste’s necklace back. “Thank you.”

Baptiste had never felt crueler because—just as Jonathan did—he knew the truth. Baptiste hadn’t meant to give Dougal and Lire a kiss without the madness of touching the spawn of pure lust. Baptiste had meant to punish Lire with what he could never have. He saw too much of himself in this situation. Baptiste couldn’t stay silent.

He focused on the amethyst-eyed vampire who’d kept his silence. “You should expel him. Send the demon away before he destroys you.”

All gratitude fled from Dougal. “It’s past time you should leave. You insult us.”

Baptiste didn’t back down or look away from Faolan. “What do you think will happen if this one dies?” he asked, motioning toward Dougal. “I’ll tell you what will happen, because it happened to me when Eirik died. Your demon can’t touch you. The only thing holding you together is your blond beauty. If he goes, do you think your demon will stay? He won’t,” Baptiste answered without giving Faolan time to respond. “Having two mates is a blessing straight from Goddess Celeste. Losing one is a nightmare you can never escape. Losing two.” Baptiste shook his head. “There’s no description excruciating enough. You should expel him. Cling to what’s real.” Baptiste stood, his welcome gone. “Expel him,” Baptiste repeated before heading for the door. He didn’t need to hear Faolan’s agreement. It was in the man’s eyes. He knew Baptiste was right. He was the disposable mate. Just as Baptiste had been.

* * *

Lire hovered in the air like smoke. He had nowhere to go. Jonathan wouldn’t let him get away even if he did. Jonathan knew the demon also couldn’t join with Faolan right now. Not if he didn’t want Faolan to hear all the thoughts Jonathan didn’t have the luxury of shutting out. Lire’s mind was a mess, but he wasn’t the type to let his mates think for a second he was unhappy with their deal. Jonathan strode through the room. His steps never faltered as he headed Lire’s way. Before the demon could disappear, Jonathan’s arms encircled Lire, forcing his body to solidify. Jonathan’s wings engulfed them, creating a cocoon no one could breach. With Jonathan’s forehead pressed to his, Lire’s gaze showed his pain. Nothing escaped Jonathan. He showed Lire no pity. He knew Lire was one kind word away from losing his shit.

Instead, Jonathan handed him the hard truth. “That man is in there; he’s telling your mates to abandon and expel you. He’s saying you’ll leave. That they don’t matter.”

Lire’s expression turned pained in a way Jonathan had never seen. “I can never touch them. Being with them seemed like such a blessing, but I’m more isolated than ever.” Lire whispered every word, baring his darkest secrets to Jonathan, even though Jonathan already knew. “I’m failing my mates, because I hate this. You can never tell. Promise me.”

Jonathan nodded. His gaze never wavered. “Do you trust me?”

“I do,” Lire said without hesitation.

“We’re about to make a deal. After I do something for you, you’ll do something for me, and you’ll trust me every step of the way.”

“Everything I have is yours.” Lire meant it. Jonathan heard it in his voice. Jonathan knew Lire would follow him above all others. It was there, showing at the forefront of Lire’s thoughts.

“Call your mates.” Jonathan could do it, but he needed Lire grounded. At his demand, Dougal and Faolan appeared. They didn’t bother walking. The men appeared from thin air, looking ready to battle.

A smile that felt overly bright, even to Jonathan, stretched Jonathan’s lips. “I didn’t mean for you to be quite so intense about it, but we’re all here now. Turn around.”

Lire turned without question, facing his men. Jonathan’s arms encircled him from behind. Lire’s overheated skin warmed Jonathan’s chest. Jonathan’s skin glowed like the sun, making Jonathan want to close his eyes against the sight. He still hadn’t gotten used to odd things happening to his body since growing into his Nephilim powers. This was one time he couldn’t pretend it wasn’t happening. He needed all his strength.

Jonathan felt Lire’s intensity dampen as he soaked in the unnatural lust Lire bled nonstop.

“Do you trust me?” Jonathan asked again, this time posing the question to Dougal and Faolan.

“With our lives,” they both repeated in unison.

Jonathan’s throat tightened with love for his clan. What he was about to demand of them meant they’d be risking everything if he failed. Jonathan wouldn’t let them down. “This is all that I can give you, but unlike Baptiste, I don’t do this with spite in my heart. Faolan, kiss your mate.”

Faolan’s eyebrows rose. He didn’t budge.

“Do you believe in me?” Jonathan asked, feeling a bit desperate. He couldn’t hold Lire’s powers at bay forever.

Faolan squared his shoulders. “Aye.”

“Then kiss him before you miss your chance.”

The distance between them disappeared. Faolan’s mouth covered Lire’s. Love exploded through the room. The desire coating Lire’s skin doubled, nearly bringing Jonathan to his knees. He panted against the assault, but he wasn’t done. “Dougal, it’s now or never.”

Dougal’s longing joined the mixture of emotions crushing Jonathan’s brain as Dougal joined their kiss without Faolan’s hesitation. Jonathan pressed his forehead to Lire’s nape, squeezed his eyes shut, and tried hanging on.

Thank you. Lire’s words caressed Jonathan’s mind as he disentangled himself from his loves, as if he felt Jonathan weakening. The moment they were no longer touching, Jonathan sprang away. His chest heaved with every labored breath. With his hands braced on his knees, Jonathan sucked air. Jonathan was bursting at the seams with madness and desire. He was part god and Lire’s powers were consuming him. For the first time, Jonathan understood the full magnitude of what Dougal endured when he’d lived with Lire before their mating. It was no wonder the vampire had been willing to walk into the fire, choosing a warrior’s death over the idea of never having Lire again.

Niall and Cin appeared. Cin had guns drawn, searching for a threat. Niall held a giant claymore. Under different circumstances, Jonathan might have found that funny. Right now, with Lire’s powers breaking his mind, Jonathan couldn’t focus on anything but the insanity.

“What the fook is happening here?” Niall demanded, looking thunderous.

Jonathan tried answering, but his throat refused to work. His mates stood feet away. Jonathan fought the urge to rip into their skin to be an inch closer to them. His body burned. He needed relief. With a mere thought, Jonathan had them in their bed unclothed. He didn’t often use his gifts against Niall and Cin. After willingly exposing himself to lilin corruption, Jonathan needed the madness assuaged now, or he might do anything.

“Are you okay?”

Jonathan had never heard Niall sound so worried. “Fix me.” The growl in Jonathan’s voice was out of his control.

Cin kissed his neck, making Jonathan writhe and his dick leak. “We’ve got you, gorgeous. Niall and I will make you fly,” he promised.

Jonathan’s legs wouldn’t still. He ground them against the sheets, needing contact with reality.

Niall bit his shoulder as he rolled Jonathan onto his side. His large crown pressed against Jonathan’s asshole even as Cin’s hot mouth surrounded Jonathan’s cock. Jonathan came unglued. He’d been barely hanging on from the moment he absorbed Lire’s energy. Words left his lips. He had no idea what he said. Most likely, he begged for a hard fucking. Jonathan didn’t want to limp away from this. He needed his men to destroy him. Take away the insanity. Cin sucked hard, tearing a cry from Jonathan’s throat. Niall fucked him raw. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room. Jonathan came. His orgasm gave him no relief. Thankfully, Cin never paused. He drank Jonathan down, his tongue lapping away at Jonathan’s hard dick. Every sensation was heightened. Jonathan felt every taste bud and breath on his cock. He needed more.

Jonathan tugged at Cin’s hair, urging him away and up his body. He captured the man’s mouth, licking his tongue and trying to taste his own cum. He nipped at Cin’s lip and tasted blood. His fangs were at full glory. Like a shark in the water, his mate’s blood threw Jonathan into a frenzy. The madness wouldn’t subside.

“I want inside you. Let me inside.” Even to Jonathan’s ears, he sounded crazed. Neither Cin nor Niall hesitated to give Jonathan everything he needed. They shifted positions. With Cin’s face down and ass up, Jonathan buried himself inside Cin, even as Niall fucked him. They’d gotten good at this. With his dick buried root deep in Cin’s ass, Jonathan sank his fangs in the man’s neck. His mate’s blood filled his mouth, bringing the first ounce of sanity back to Jonathan. The pull on his cock felt more like pleasure and less like necessity. Then Niall bit him, stealing Jonathan’s blood. The room steadied. His pace slowed.

Reaching over his head, Jonathan held Niall’s dark hair, pushing back against him before sinking into Cin. He chose their pace, rocking slower with each pump of his hips. They were one. Connected in heart, body, and soul. These were the mates fate had chosen for him. He would’ve chosen them without help from the universe. Love replaced the insanity.

“Damn,” Jonathan breathed, licking Cin’s nape. “I love you both, so much. Two weeks is too long to be apart.”

“Aye,” Cin breathed.

“Agreed,” Niall growled against his throat.

Niall’s dick hit all the perfect spots. Cin’s tight heat milked Jonathan’s cock. The pleasure was too much. Jonathan reached for relief. Without warning, an orgasm slammed into him, stealing his breath. The room went dark as its intensity robbed him of sight.

Niall gasped. “Fook, Jonathan. That’s it. I need that ass sucking on my cock.”

Cin’s orgasm washed over Jonathan’s brain, combining with his. When Niall’s pleasure filled his head too, Jonathan collapsed. His body couldn’t contain the intensity of their ecstasy. Wave after wave of sexual satisfaction locked down his muscles, paralyzing him. Jonathan was trapped in its web. His back hit the mattress. Cin’s and Niall’s tongues filled his mouth. He reveled in how they entwined, taking turns savoring one another. Sweat and cum slickened their skin. The room smelled like sex and love. It was Jonathan’s version of heaven. He wouldn’t stop until Lire, Dougal, and Faolan had the same.

Lire, bring me Kallus. First born son of Mammon. Send Faolan to collect Baptiste at my command. Leave Dougal here to help me prepare a demon trap.

Anything, my king.

Baptiste might not think he cared about the mate who’d abandoned him, but as Jonathan snuggled in the cocoon of his mates, he knew better. There was no length he wouldn’t go to protect his men. It was time to see if Baptiste would be the same.