With rage coating his brain and darkness streaking the sky, Baptiste skipped walking past the sea of knowing gazes and appeared inside his bedroom. Fuck all. The new king knew about Eirik and Kallus. He’d seen everything. Baptiste had felt the Nephilim penetrating his every thought and memory. Everything felt raw and exposed. No one understood the insanity. Baptiste tore up the floor, pacing from one end of the room to the other. Each time he closed his eyes, he saw Eirik’s face—felt his mate’s fangs piercing his skin. Then his eyes would open and Eirik would be gone, forever isolated from Baptiste, even in the next life. As a Viking, Eirik would rest in the halls of Valhalla. As a Druid, Baptiste would be reborn, over and over again until the end of time. That was why he’d chosen to turn vampire to begin with. At least as he was now, he’d been allowed to choose the form he would be forever. Forever had never seemed so unending. Without Eirik, he felt every drawn-out second as it ticked by. If their fates were different, Baptiste would’ve joined Eirik in the next life long ago.

Baptiste felt Kallus a half second before the demon’s image filled his mind. Fingers encircled Baptiste’s throat, gently urging him back against an unnaturally hot chest. Baptiste’s eyes fell closed. In a detached way, Baptiste recognized Kallus wasn’t really there. Everything was inside his head. The desperation he felt at Kallus’ touch was all on him. It was the ghosts of his memories. The demon’s greed couldn’t touch him like this, but he could invade Baptiste’s mind and drive him insane.

Baptiste hissed as Kallus brushed his lips across the shell of his ear. His knees weakened. As always, with just one touch, Kallus owned him. “I’ve been waiting for you to come home. You know I’m not a patient man.”

“You’re not a man at all,” Baptiste argued, because it was better than begging.

Kallus ignored him. “Where have you been? I couldn’t see you where you went.” He pressed his nose to Baptiste’s neck and inhaled. “You smell like power.” Kallus hummed. “Damn. You know how much I love that scent.”

Fuck. Baptiste hated him. Not as much as he hated himself, but still. Baptiste hardened his heart against Kallus and stepped out of the demon’s hold. When he turned and met Kallus’ gorgeous blue gaze, Baptiste saw all the weakness inside himself. Kallus was beautiful. With his iridescent light blue eyes, tall frame, black hair, and perfect lips, Kallus could fill any heart with instant greed. Every time Baptiste set eyes on the demon, it was just like the first. His heart squeezed in his chest. Every heartbeat came faster than the last. His throat went dry, bringing about the deepest thirst. Except it wasn’t water he craved. Baptiste wanted to drink in every ounce of Kallus, owning the man in ways no one else ever could. Each time he saw Kallus, he felt the same. The thing was—he already owned Kallus in a way no one else ever would. Kallus was his blood mate, and Baptiste meant nothing to him at all. These imaginary meetings were just one of Kallus’ many tricks. He toyed with Baptiste’s mind and heart.

“What do you want?”

Kallus smirked. “Everything. You used to love that about me. Come on,” Kallus said, moving in close. “Play with me, Little Mouse.”

The pain in Baptiste’s chest stole his breath. “Don’t call me that.” He couldn’t hear the pet name Eirik and Kallus had used for him right now.

Kallus mimicked his Cajun accent. “My shy little mouse,” he taunted, closing the final gap between them. “If people could only see the pervert living beneath the awkward shell, I’d have to fight men off with a stick.”

“Exorcizo te, omnis te mentiri dicas.”

His demon’s smile fell. “No.”

Baptiste couldn’t hear it. “Exorcizo te, omnis immundus corde. Oro, audite me.” The image of Kallus disappeared from Baptiste’s head, leaving him disoriented. The exorcism took Kallus away, but not the greed and longing. Baptiste’s body betrayed him. His knees nearly hit the floor.

Ethan burst through his bedroom door, guns drawn, and looking ready for battle. The usual smooth flirt vanished beneath the picture of a beast. Ethan’s dark-blue gaze bounced around the room, searching for a threat. He holstered his weapons behind his back when he found Baptiste alone. His long stride ate up the distance between them. The man’s solid form braced Baptiste against a fall. His strong arms engulfed Baptiste. Ethan was a Prampire—part of a rare vampire sect that fed on strong emotional energy. No one knew. Baptiste kept Ethan and his twin Evan’s secret. In turn, Ethan kept Baptiste sane. Without Ethan, losing Eirik and Kallus would’ve killed him long ago. The anger, love, hate, and want shifted. Baptiste felt it seep from his body as Ethan absorbed the emotions until they were muted. He held on, shaking in his relief.

“I’ve got you,” Ethan whispered against his temple.

Baptiste turned his head. Ethan lowered his chin. Their lips met. It meant nothing. Baptiste didn’t want anything beyond the physical response of touching. Their tongues met and stroked. For Baptiste, there was no huge explosion of passion. There never would be. He was mated to the demon who’d abandoned him. As long as Kallus still lived, Baptiste would never feel a quarter of what he felt for his mate for anyone else. It was akin to living in hell. Everything in his life was an echo of a whisper without his mates. Ethan was better than Kallus. He’d be a true mate to Baptiste. All Kallus did was steal and take from Baptiste, leaving him hollow and without hope. Baptiste nipped at Ethan’s bottom lip, wanting to feel anything. Ethan’s moan vibrated through their kiss. The final inch between them disappeared as Ethan shuffled closer. His erection dug into Baptiste’s hip.

It didn’t matter Baptiste’s emotions were dampened. He could make Ethan fly. His fingers shaped Ethan’s hard cock through his jeans. Ethan deepened their kiss. Baptiste went for the man’s zipper, determined to make the man feel everything he couldn’t. He could feel enough for this. A knock landed on his bedroom door, freezing them.

Evan’s voice came through the door. “You have a visitor.”

Baptiste bit back a growl. “I’ll be there in a minute.” Without a qualm, he set Ethan’s erection free. The silky-smooth skin of a hard dick brushed his palm. “I can show my appreciation in record time.”

Ethan pushed his hand away. He zipped his pants. With his gaze locked on his task, Ethan headed for the door. “I’m not interested in a pity hand job.”

A growl choked Baptiste. “That’s not what I meant.”

“You have a visitor,” Ethan reminded him. He was out the door before Baptiste could respond.

While scrubbing his hands through his hair, Baptiste stared at the ceiling, seeking answers from above. Why? Why had he been left with this? Just why? Baptiste wasn’t a warrior or a politician. Yet, people came to him, seeking answers and help. In truth, Baptiste had always been a lover and a scholar. All he cared to have was a book and someone to hold. He liked quiet and wine. Why had he been handed a life so at odds with him? He didn’t know how to fight this battle.

“You should’ve let me die, Eirik. If you’d lived and let me die, my soul would’ve found you in the next life. Now, I am nothing. Without hope.”

“Do you talk to yourself a lot?”

Baptiste dropped his chin as a thick Scottish accent filled his bedroom. “I wasn’t talking to myself. It’s rude to enter a man’s bedroom without an invitation.”

Faolan’s amethyst eyes flashed with humor. “Considering how you left earlier, I didn’t think you were too concerned with manners. If you’re not talking to yourself, then who are you chatting with? You look to be quite alone to me.”

“My blood mate, Eirik. I don’t know if he hears me in the afterlife, but…” Baptiste shrugged. “Did you need something?”

With his shoulder leaned against Baptiste’s door frame, the man eyed him. His expression unreadable. “I was given to understand you have a second mate. One still living.”

A snort escaped Baptiste. He moved to the bed and sat. His knees were still weak from Kallus’ mind invasion and Ethan’s kiss. “Having a blood bond with someone doesn’t mean they’ll stay. He abandoned me,” Baptiste clarified.

“I’m verra sorry to hear that.”

“He’s a demon. They’re not reliable.” Baptiste didn’t know why he couldn’t shut up.

“Ah,” Faolan said, straightening. “That explains the raging earlier. You do realize that not every demon is the same, right? Lire is quite steady. In fact, he’s one of Goddess Celeste’s personal guards. You should get to know someone before…” Faolan waved his hand, as if physically searching for the right term.

“Projecting my issues onto others,” Baptiste supplied.

Faolan snapped his fingers and pointed at Baptiste. “That.”

Baptiste blew out a tired-sounding breath. “I used to be so level-headed.” A smile tugged at Baptiste’s lips. “And then this rowdy bunch of Vikings blew through town. Damn,” Baptiste said absently. “That feels like so long ago. Forever is a very long time.”

Rather than running from Baptiste’s maudlin mood, as most warriors would, Faolan moved closer. “You should come around more often. Being around Jonathan is like standing in the sunshine. Without all the nasty vamp damages, of course. He soothes the soul.”

Baptiste flashed Faolan a sad smile. “I probably won’t get many invites after today.”

“Well, now, that’s not true. I’ve been sent to fetch you back.”

With a snort of laughter, Baptiste fell backward across the bed and stared at the ceiling. Would this day never end? “Am I being forced to apologize?” A horrible thought hit Baptiste. “Is Lire here too?”

A loud sigh rent the air. “My mate can be trying and pushy. He’s not perfect, but he won’t force you to hand him a shite apology you don’t mean. Plus, knowing Lire as I do, I’m sure he wasn’t innocent in your argument earlier. And, no, Lire isn’t here. He’s busy with our king. Jonathan has some reason all his own for sending me to fetch you.”

Baptiste sat up. For now, Jonathan hadn’t pushed his politics on the New Orleans sect since his arrival. The least Baptiste could do was continue working with him. “Can you give me a few minutes? I have some shit to work out here first.”

Faolan nodded. “I’ll wait in the kitchen.”

Baptiste nodded and followed him from the room. When Faolan hit the stairs, Baptiste headed down the hall. Ethan’s bedroom door was closed. Baptiste hesitated before finally deciding knocking would be best.

The door flew open, and a pissed-off-looking Ethan glared out at him. “What?”

Baptiste’s chest hurt. He was failing everyone, including himself. “I’m being summoned back to our king.”

Ethan’s expression transformed from anger to concern in an instant. “Would you like me to guard your back?”

“Please?” Even though Baptiste trusted Jonathan, he didn’t like feeling exposed as he had earlier in the day. He needed someone in his corner. Ethan never would’ve let Lire get to him. He would keep Baptiste safe.

Ethan nodded, becoming the amazing friend he’d always been. “Of course.”

Baptiste swallowed hard. He wouldn’t pretend nothing happened. Ethan’s feelings mattered to him. “I’m sorry.”

A line appeared between Ethan’s eyes. His hardened expression made him twice as hot. Reaching out, he snagged the front of Baptiste’s t-shirt and hauled him forward. His lips touched Baptiste’s in a soft kiss. Baptiste breathed in the other man’s scent. Their foreheads touched. Baptiste kept his eyes shut. He loved Ethan. It wasn’t a passionate love. There was no jealousy or insanity as he’d sometimes felt with his mates. It was a peaceful and steady love filled with friendship. He trusted Ethan. Ethan would never hurt him. That was why it broke Baptiste that he was hurting Ethan.

“I know,” Ethan whispered, taking away the guilt the way he always did. “Let’s go find out why this king has suddenly taken such an interest in you.”

Baptiste’s heart sank. There was no time like the present to get this over with, but afterward, maybe he would go away. He’d been in New Orleans too long. There was nothing keeping him. Evan and Dante could run the shop. Once the thought set in, Baptiste felt lighter. He would leave. Eirik and Kallus were gone. It was well past time for him to move on to a new life too.

* * *

After squaring his shoulders, and with Dougal guarding his back, Jonathan strolled inside the room they’d readied for Kallus. Jonathan wasn’t prepared for the sight of the demon. When he’d met Lire, Lire had been ever-changing, keeping Jonathan on his toes. Kallus was solid and beautiful. Demons had to be breathtaking. That was how they stole souls and corrupted minds. Still, Jonathan hadn’t been prepared. With jet black hair that begged to be touched and shimmering blue eyes, Kallus was heart-stoppingly perfect. Topping off those features, the demon’s lips were amazing. They drew the eye. Having Kallus and Dougal in the same room was almost too much.

Kallus eyed them, his expression unreadable. “Damn. You are amazing,” Kallus said, breaking the silence.

Jonathan glanced Dougal’s way. “He is, isn’t he? Unfortunately, for you, he’s already mated.”

A snort escaped Kallus. “I meant you,” Kallus said, surprising Jonathan. “Blondie is hot, but you are… mhmm.” Kallus inhaled. “I recognize the scent of overwhelming power but can’t recall where I’ve encountered it.”

“Och, he’s a smooth one, my king,” Dougal said with a chuckle at Jonathan’s back.

Jonathan claimed the empty chair outside Kallus’ reach. “Demons usually are.”

“King?” Kallus asked, sounding only mildly curious. “Ah,” he said, before Jonathan could respond. “The new king of the Americas. I’ve heard the rumors.” His heated gaze swept down Jonathan’s body. “This is the first time I’ve met a Nephilim. Not that it matters. King. Nephilim. Grandson of Goddess Celeste. It matters not at all. You have no power over me. My father is a prince of hell. I answer only to the underworld.”

The smile tugging at the corners of Jonathan’s mouth was out of his control. Kallus wasn’t unlikable. That was a good thing. He held up the book he’d brought with him. “Actually, this book says different. I’m new at this, so my brother-in-law Lachlan, who’s the king of Scotland, dug up this book for me.” He toyed with the ragged corners of the book that was bound in things Jonathan tried not to think about. It was old. “Who knew there was a book of rules and responsibilities for vampire kings? I certainly didn’t.” Jonathan flashed Kallus a smile. “Thank goodness I’m a nerd who loves to read, because riveting it is not. However, there are a few very interesting tidbits. Like, did you know demon and vampire matings aren’t unheard of, as I expected. In fact, as uncommon as it might be, it’s obviously happened enough to warrant a section in this book. It seems when you mated with Eirik and Baptiste, you became my problem.”

“Oh, sexy, I’m everyone’s problem,” Kallus said with a wink. “More for some than others, but not everyone fights their demons. Some people prefer to spank them.”

Jonathan held the man’s stare until his smile fell and he shifted uncomfortably beneath Jonathan’s gaze. Only when Jonathan was certain Kallus wouldn’t continue saying stupid shit did he continue. “You abandoned your mate.”

“Have you come to drag me home? Have you cleaned up all the world’s problems to the point you resorted to trying your hand at marriage counseling now?”

Jonathan shook his head. “I’m only explaining your present circumstances. It’s not in my nature to hold a prisoner without listing the charges. Since you’re Mammon’s son, I’m sure you don’t care, but abandoning a mate is a serious offense. I’m assuming you knew the responsibility you undertook when you possessed Baptiste’s body and used him to make the blood exchange with Eirik?”

Kallus wasn’t smiling now. Pain radiated from the man in waves. It took all Jonathan’s self-control to keep a hard face. If he lost his mates, he would go with them. He couldn’t imagine Kallus’ position. “I knew,” Kallus said so low Jonathan barely heard.

Jonathan nodded. “Then I have to assume you also knew it was against our laws to abandon your mate, since there’s no such thing as divorce, and living apart can be unusually cruel.”

“Yes.” Kallus looked accepting.

“Very well,” Jonathan said, coming to his feet. “I’ll have Baptiste contacted. He’ll decide your fate.”

Kallus wiped his palms on his thighs and cleared his throat. He didn’t look at Jonathan. “What are his options?”

Jonathan could see his thoughts. Kallus wasn’t concerned for himself. He didn’t want to hurt Baptiste any more than he already had. “If he says to send you on your way, I will. He might choose to leave you here until you starve or go mad.” Kallus’ gaze shot to Jonathan. Jonathan didn’t hold back. “Or he has the option to have you destroyed, freeing him to move on.”

Kallus gave him a short nod. Being the son of greed had him fighting his natural need to spread discord, but Jonathan felt the shift in his mind. Kallus wanted to die, but he also wanted Baptiste to be the one to choose. “Okay.”

Jonathan clasped his book to his chest. “While I have you here, I do have one question. Not too long ago, we had a visit from your father. He kidnapped one of my mates, hoping to force me to kill Baptiste.”

Kallus’ face hardened. He was still gorgeous, but it was a deadly beauty. “I did not send Mammon to kill my mate,” Kallus growled.

Jonathan didn’t miss the fact that he hadn’t referred to Mammon as his father. “That wasn’t my question. My question is—did he want Baptiste dead because of you?”

“Did you destroy him? Mammon, that is?”

“He left me no choice but to send him back to the underworld,” Jonathan said without an ounce of guilt.

“Then the answer to your question is yes. Eirik is dead because of me, and he won’t stop until Baptiste suffers the same fate.”

It was as Jonathan suspected. Kallus had abandoned his mate to save him. The damage was the same, nonetheless. “That won’t be happening on my watch. I’ll send for Baptiste.”

“You should’ve killed Mammon,” Kallus called at his back, sounding desperate. “Because he won’t stop.”

Jonathan opened the door and turned. “If we cross paths again, he won’t walk away.”

Dougal followed Jonathan from the room, protecting his back, even though they’d warded the place to the teeth. The moment the door was closed behind them, Dougal snagged Jonathan’s arm, pulling him to a stop. Their gazes met. Unexpectedly, Dougal wrapped Jonathan in a tight hug. The man’s emotions overwhelmed Jonathan, choking him and filling his eyes with tears. Dougal quickly stepped back. He cleared his throat and tapped his chest.

“I’ve never been prouder to serve anyone or call them my friend.”

Jonathan blinked. Dougal wasn’t an overly emotional person. His words meant the world to Jonathan, especially since he questioned his every decision, certain he was fucking up everything he touched. “Love you,” Jonathan said, scurrying away before he looked like an idiot.

Faolan, bring him.

Now all he could do was wait and see if he deserved Dougal’s loyalty.