This time, Baptiste didn’t have to worry over awkwardness on his trip to Jonathan’s. It was dark enough that their powers were heightened, and they dissipated, moving effortlessly from one place to the next in an instant. As Baptiste cleared the doorway of the king’s home, he felt an odd pulse in the air. The sensation seemed familiar, but the memory stayed just out of his grasp. Jonathan and Dougal sat side by side at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and talking in quiet tones. They glanced up as Baptiste, Faolan, and Ethan came through the door.

Jonathan’s smile was welcoming. “Hi. Sorry to drag you back after you stormed out with such amazing parting shots earlier.”

Baptiste almost apologized. The words rose to his lips. He bit them down. Lire had started it by pushing his way into Baptiste’s mind. Hell would freeze before Baptiste regretted standing up for himself. He might be awkward, but he wasn’t weak. Eirik never would’ve loved a weak man. “Why am I back?”

Jonathan’s gaze shifted Ethan’s way. He hesitated before nodding, as if coming to some internal decision. “Faolan, would you take Ethan on a tour of the house while I talk to Baptiste? I’m sure he would love to see our armory.”

Ethan crossed his arms over his chest and planted his feet. “I’m not going anywhere. You allowed your demon to attack his mind earlier today. I won’t allow it twice.”

Jonathan’s face hardened. Baptiste found the sight oddly fascinating. The king was such a nice person. The look didn’t suit him. “That won’t be happening again. However, I can see everything and everyone—feel what they feel. But you’re different. Somehow, you’re blocking me, which means you have something to hide. I can’t trust a man who keeps secrets. Unless you’re willing to tell us what you’re hiding, you can go with Faolan.”

“I’ll hold you at your word about protecting Baptiste. Don’t doubt that I have powers of my own.” Without meeting anyone’s gaze, Ethan followed Faolan from the room. Baptiste’s unease doubled. He’d asked Ethan to accompany him for a reason. Now he was left unprotected. It wasn’t that he thought Jonathan or his clan would hurt him. Baptiste felt something in the air. Something benevolent. He wanted to run. Instead, he moved to the kitchen table and sat.

Once Jonathan had him isolated, his expression turned kind again. “I have Kallus.”

Baptiste flew back to his feet, ready to bolt. Only his weakened knees stopped him from fleeing.

Jonathan raised his arms, making a calming gesture. “Please? Just sit and hear me out.”

After several deep breaths, Baptiste managed to call his racing heart under control. Baptiste sat. He understood now the disarray of his thoughts. Kallus was here. Under the same roof. Breathing the same air. It was too much. Baptiste opened his mouth, intent on asking a thousand questions. No sound emerged. Everything hurt too badly. He couldn’t function.

Jonathan nodded, as if he understood. “I know this is painful for you. That’s exactly why this needs to be addressed. By mating with a vampire, Kallus now falls under my rule. He has to be judged and sentenced for abandoning his mate.”

Baptiste found his voice. “I don’t understand. It’s been so long. Why do this now? It’s like opening an old wound that won’t heal properly.”

“There hasn’t been a king here for a very long time. Before now, he hasn’t had anyone to answer to. Now he does. When you were here earlier, you showed Dougal a kindness by giving him a moment with Lire.”

“That wasn’t kindness,” Baptiste spat. He couldn’t get a handle on his emotions. They were flying in every direction.

Jonathan shook his head. “Whatever your reasons were, your gesture made me realize how much we could help one another.”

Realization dawned. This wasn’t about him at all. Jonathan wanted something from him. “Wait,” he said, holding up his hand and stopping Jonathan from saying more. “Am I being blackmailed? Are you doing this, hoping I’ll help Lire with his inability to touch his mates?”

Jonathan blinked, looking surprised by Baptiste’s questions. “The fact that you would even ask that proves you don’t know me at all. No. You’re not being blackmailed. I got the impression earlier you could use some help. Celeste put me in this position for a reason because she knew I could do some good here. Go see him. Take back your life. Forever is a damn long time to have a mate who won’t be one.” He pushed to his feet, obviously intent on walking away before Baptiste could piss him off even more. “Dougal will go with you for your protection.”

Baptiste stood too. “Point me in the right direction. I don’t need protection. There’s nothing Kallus could do to me that’s worse than what he’s already done.”

The king’s golden gaze swirled as he stared at Baptiste. His face set. “Still, Dougal will accompany you. He can stand outside the door, if it pleases you, but he’s going.” Without waiting for Baptiste to argue further, Jonathan walked away. Lire followed the king from the room, leaving Dougal behind.

Baptiste’s gaze slid Dougal’s way. “If this isn’t blackmail, what is it?”

Dougal motioned toward the hallway. “Kindness. Follow me.”

“It doesn’t feel like kindness,” Baptiste grumbled. A soft chuckle floated through the air. Baptiste bit back a growl at the sound. “I’m being serious. Kallus abandoned me years ago. I haven’t set eyes on him since. This feels a lot like torture.”

Dougal stopped outside a bolted door and focused on Baptiste. “Jonathan is unfailingly kind. He’d never intentionally hurt you. Take his advice and his gift. It’s time to face this and move on. Or do you like living in limbo?”

Baptiste gave Dougal a sharp nod. He needed this over with. Dougal opened the door. Kallus stood in the center of the room. For a moment, Baptiste couldn’t move. His feet froze to the floor. Then, he was across the threshold and the door closed behind him, shutting him away—alone with his mate for the first time in years. Baptiste had seen the visions of Kallus the demon sent him when he wanted to play, and he caught glimpses of his mate in his dreams, but there was nothing in heaven or on earth to compare to the real thing. He made men greedy. Those goddamn lips. People talked about looks coming from the devil. They had no idea. One glance Kallus’ way could cripple a man with a gut-wrenching need for more. But the demon had been aptly named, because Kallus was cold and cruel, uncaring of the damage he caused. No one knew better than Baptiste. He was dressed to the nines—like they caught him at a goddamn movie premiere.

The room had nothing inside other than two straight-back chairs—one on each side of the wards. It was more than obvious this was nothing more than an interrogation room. Kallus spoke first, sending chills down Baptiste’s spine with the reminder of what only he could do for Baptiste.

“I hear the new king wants you to judge me?”

“You’d better hope not,” Baptiste said, sounding detached even to his ears. He had to hold himself apart for his sanity. “For your sake, you’d better pray he decides to choose your punishment. I’ll let you rot. Wherever you’ve been, it seems to have kept you well.” Baptiste didn’t bother sitting. He wouldn’t be here that long. Plus, he would never give Kallus the advantage of hovering over him.

Kallus eyed him, raking Baptiste with a hot gaze from head to toe. “Damn. You’re still the sexiest man alive. You should tell this so-called king to let me go. We have catching up to do.”

Loathing boiled in Baptiste’s veins. He wanted blood. Baptiste craved the sight of Kallus’ acidic blood coating the walls, but more than that, he wanted the man to suffer. Long and hard. “Let’s catch up now,” Baptiste said, moving closer.

Kallus took a step back. His bravado fled. “You can’t touch me. You don’t want that.”

Dark emotions brewed in Baptiste, driving him on. He kept moving forward and forcing Kallus back until the demon had nowhere to go with his back pressed against the wall. “What do you think will happen if I touch you?” Baptiste asked, trailing his fingers along Kallus’ jaw. Kallus flinched. When no madness entered Baptiste’s gaze, the demon’s eyes widened. Baptiste didn’t give him time to respond. “Do you think I’ll immediately fill with greed to have you? That the need will drive me insane and I’ll spend my nights shaking and crying your name?” Baptiste went flush against him, holding his mate’s stare. He wanted Kallus to see the truth in his eyes. “I’ve already done those things. So, touch me, Kallus. All I feel is hatred.” Baptiste cupped the demon’s face, ensuring he couldn’t look away. “You make me sick, but not with want. Unless you mean wanting you to hurt. That, you deserve. No one should look at you or touch you and immediately crave you. All you deserve is pain. Hopefully, you’ll find it here.” Baptiste backed away and flashed Kallus a smile that felt evil even to himself. “Enjoy your stay.”

This time, Baptiste’s knees really did give out as he crossed the threshold and closed Kallus from his life. Thankfully, Ethan waited for him instead of Dougal. His arms kept Baptiste from collapsing. The man’s hard chest cradled him. He saw nothing. His ears no longer worked. Pain tried caving his lungs. What Dougal called kindness felt a hell of a lot like cruelty to Baptiste. The ringing in his ears subsided as Ethan leeched the emotions from Baptiste, leaving him weak.

Ethan rubbed his back. “I told Dougal I would keep you safe. He was surprisingly understanding and left me to it.”

Baptiste inhaled, pulling Ethan’s scent into his lungs. “I’m going away.” Ethan’s arms tightened around him, as if physically trying to stop Baptiste’s plans. Baptiste wasn’t finished. “Between Eirik’s death and this, I think I’ve stayed too long. Do you think Evan would be okay running the shop?”

Ethan cleared his throat. Baptiste could practically feel the way he was hurting him. “I’m sure he’d be fine. After all, you’re always a simple thought away if he has questions, right?”

“Sure,” Baptiste said, trying to sound happier than he felt. After all, fake was his middle name these days. Taking a deep breath, Baptiste braced himself for Ethan’s rejection. “How do you feel about disappearing with me?” Ethan didn’t answer right away. Baptiste didn’t blame him. It was asking a lot. Even Baptiste wasn’t sure exactly what he was asking for. He could walk away from the demon locked up in the room behind him and never look back, but Baptiste would still always be a demon’s mate. “It’s okay.” It was too much to ask of anyone. He pulled away and pasted on a fake smile. “I’ll come visit.”

Ethan’s mouth covered his, stopping Baptiste from saying more. There was nothing gentle about the kiss. It was unlike any they’d shared before. Baptiste tasted blood when Ethan bit into his bottom lip. His heart skipped a beat. It was the most he’d felt since Eirik’s death. Baptiste found himself shuffling closer. Ethan pulled away. His face was hard. “I’m not a good person,” Ethan said, sounding deadly. “You realize that, right? None of my kind are. We feed off drama, pain, and all the passion you can muster. I’m not good.”

Baptiste opened his mouth, prepared to argue. Ethan had been nothing but good to him since turning up on his doorstep three years ago.

With a shake of his head, Ethan cut him off. “No, Baptiste. If I go with you, it’s not because we’re friends. It’s because I want you, even though you’re not mine. If I go with you, it’s because I plan to have you with zero fucks for the beast on the other side of that door.”

The heart skipping turned into an unexpected wave of lust. Eirik had been a Viking—a man of action. He conquered. Baptiste was almost ashamed of how much he liked this side of Ethan. “I understand.”

“Do you?” Ethan’s voice was every bit as hard as his eyes.

Baptiste swallowed. His throat unexpectedly dry. “Yes.”

Ethan gave a sharp nod. “Okay. Let’s go tell this king goodbye.”

As he moved down the hallway, retracing the path Dougal had taken him earlier, Baptiste fought the urge to glance over his shoulder at Ethan. The man’s intensity rolled off him in waves. At the mouth of the kitchen, Baptiste paused. His heart slowed at the vision the king’s clan presented. Dougal and Faolan wore matching leather braided bracelets. Lire stood, solid, and twisting the men’s bracelets, careful not to touch either man’s skin. Dougal and Lire smiled, listening to Faolan tell a ridiculous story about cabbage. They loved each other. As Baptiste looked on, Lire took turns bringing the man’s wrists to his lips, placing kisses safely on the leather to keep from exposing the men to his curse. Baptiste rubbed his chest. When he’d seen them together earlier in the day, he’d cast his own problems on them and lashed out. Lire had rightfully lashed back. Baptiste got tired of being wrong.

He moved farther into the room, making his presence known.

Jonathan turned from the freezer where he had some odd salt and ice cream mixture going on. “Hey. Are you okay?”

Baptiste nodded. “Could I have two strands of your hair?”

“Excuse me?” Jonathan looked as surprised by the request as he rightfully should.

“You’ll have to pull them out. No one else can pluck the hair of a god.”

Jonathan blinked. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s for a spell,” he explained, moving to stand beside the three men trying so hard not to touch one another. “May I see these bracelets?” Baptiste asked, motioning toward the leather Lire had been kissing moments earlier.

Unlike Jonathan, the men didn’t hesitate. “Sure,” Dougal said, untying his and handing it over. Faolan followed suit.

Ethan flashed him a smile and sat at the kitchen table. He knew what Baptiste was about.

Baptiste put the bracelets together, whispering an incantation over the pieces as he moved to Jonathan’s side. “Hair, please?”

Jonathan shrugged and yanked out two strands of hair. “Your grandmother did this for me,” Baptiste explained as he unwound the leather strands before weaving the hair through the bracelets. “Not that it did me any good. Kallus walked away before he even knew about it,” Baptiste added absently. “A god’s hair cannot be broken.”

“I’m not a god,” Jonathan said as he watched over Baptiste’s shoulder.

“No. You’re the grandson of a goddess. That makes you even stronger.”

“Why did Kallus leave?” Lire asked as he watched Baptiste braiding the leather pieces.

“I don’t know,” Baptiste answered, keeping his gaze locked on his task. “Eirik died, and he was gone. He never looked back.” Baptiste tied off the final piece. “Diva quibus componuntur Celeste nemo divellunt. What Goddess Celeste put together, let no man tear asunder.” The bracelets shimmered gold for a second before returning to normal. He moved back to Dougal and Faolan and handed back the bracelets. “As long as you’re wearing these, you’ll be free to touch Lire without any consequences. May you have a life I never could.” He turned away before he could see their reactions. His gaze met Ethan’s. The man stood. Their hands met, and they disappeared.

* * *

Lire stared at the spot where Baptiste had been only moments earlier. “What just happened?”

Warm fingers brushed his cheek. Faolan was touching him. Dougal touched his other cheek. They looked amazed. Faolan broke first. “Holy fook. It’s sorcery.”

Lire held still, scared to move. Neither man appeared crazed with lust, and his powers weren’t being fed. It was just a normal stroke of skin on skin.

“Seriously, what just happened here?” Faolan sounded shocked.

Jonathan tossed his spoon into the sink, dragging all eyes his way. “You just watched a man give you a life that was stolen from him. Go enjoy it. I have a demon to deal with.”

Lire’s loyalties split straight down the middle at the order. He fought the urge to take his men away to some place they could revel in this new gift. But, if anything happened to Jonathan, all was lost.

“My king,” Lire said, feeling defeated. “I can’t—”

Jonathan snapped his fingers and Lire stared at the ceiling of the room he shared with Dougal and Faolan. His mates warmed the mattress on either side of him.

“Shit,” Lire cursed, scrambling for the edge of the bed. He slammed against an invisible wall around the mattress. “What the fuck?” He tried again, only to find himself on his back. Jonathan? What the fuck?

Stay. Jonathan sounded firm. I’m right down the hall. If anything happens, you’ll be free to help. Until then, enjoy Baptiste’s gift. You have no idea what it cost him.

I can’t leave you unprotected.

A breeze skirted across Lire’s skin, as if Jonathan caressed him with his mind. I’m not leaving you a choice.

Lire glanced over his shoulder. Dougal and Faolan wore matching expressions of concentration where they too tried reasoning with Jonathan. Their faces cleared. They exchanged glances. There was nothing they could do. As much as they might be Jonathan’s guards, Jonathan was stronger than all of them. If he meant to handle things on his own, they couldn’t stop him.

Faolan lifted his arm and inspected the bracelet he wore. “I never thought…”

Lire knew. Faolan didn’t need to finish his thoughts. None of them ever expected they’d be able to touch. It felt too good to be true—like the moment they actually set hands on one another, the blessing would slip through their fingers.

They took turns inspecting one another. Dougal smiled. “You both know I love you, right? Like with everything I have.”

“Aye,” Faolan said while Lire nodded.

“I can’t stay in this bed and leave Jonathan unguarded. I owe him everything.”

Faolan nodded. “Aye. I want to lounge about and stroke you both until you scream my name. That’s not happening until our king is safe.”

They exchanged matching determined smiles before diving for the invisible wall. They’d break through if it killed them.

* * *

Jonathan checked the house’s perimeter and made small talk in his head with his husbands. He wanted Kallus to stew. This one wasn’t like Lire. Jonathan wasn’t as sure in his dealings with him. When they spoke, Jonathan could feel Kallus’ dishonesty, but he couldn’t decide which of his words were lies. After finding the chalk where he’d stashed it earlier, Jonathan headed down the hall again. Outside the door, he hesitated. Baptiste had chosen to help his clan, but it didn’t feel like much of a win. He was certain Lire, Dougal, and Faolan would disagree. Jonathan’s shoulders still weighed too much. He’d done nothing to help Baptiste. It didn’t matter Jonathan recognized there was no comfort for Baptiste in this life. He’d still hoped. Jonathan unbolted the door and strolled inside. Kallus stared out the window. He didn’t turn at Jonathan’s arrival.

“There’s no greed in this house. I’ll starve in a few months.”

Jonathan settled in the chair he’d occupied earlier. “I’m not sure about that. My mates won’t be home for a few more days. I should think this house will be filled with longing until then.”

Kallus turned. His light blue eyes stood out brighter than the rest of the room. “That’s an extension of love. There’s no such thing as greed in real love. All the feelings you have for your mates are derived from your love for them. There’s no grasping in that.”

Jonathan smiled. “You sound like a bible verse I read once. I never found much comfort in religion before my turning. Of course, I didn’t know there was so much to learn about the afterlife.”

Kallus snorted and turned his back on Jonathan again. “You’re so young. You’re like an infant to me. If you live long enough, you’ll stop believing in everything, even if you can see it, touch it, and taste it.”

Compared to everyone he knew, Jonathan was like an infant. He couldn’t even grasp how old Kallus was, being the first-born son of Mammon. Mammon was as old as time. Kallus couldn’t be much younger than that as well.

“As long as you’ve been alive, you never loved until Baptiste. Why him?”

“I built Baptiste’s voodoo shop for him, did you know?” he asked instead of answering Jonathan’s question. “There was no avarice in our relationship either. I had to create something that would draw the miserly people in, looking for spells to bring them riches. I fed off their emotions. I’ve never been anywhere where it was enough—where I felt full. However, there was this one night, too many years ago to count, I was inside this tavern in Rouen. There was this huge mountain of a man, covered in tattoos and scars. He had these piercing light gray eyes that were almost eerie to look at. Everyone gave him a wide berth. His gaze was honed on this tiny mouse of a man. Well,” Kallus waved dismissively, “he wasn’t really all that small, but compared to this guy, he looked like he’d be crushed. Little Mouse held a book, trying to read by the world’s shittiest candlelight. God, it’s amazing we’re not all blind from those days. Anyhow,” Kallus said, turning, claiming his chair, and focusing on Jonathan, as if getting into his story. “The insatiable hunger rolling from this giant in waves was like doing ten lines of coke. The higher I got, the more I wanted. This ravenous longing twisted my insides like nothing I’d ever experienced. I had to have more. So I became one with my new little pet. I ensured he turned his head and met that giant’s stare.” Kallus shook his head. His smile bordered on insane. “Dear Goddess, the explosion of emotions as their gazes met… there are no words. I didn’t need to control either man. All I had to do was go along for the ride. I stayed high for so long, I didn’t recognize I’d hung around inside Baptiste too long. I had feelings and shit. They wouldn’t go away. The greed had dried up and turned to love. I had to find nourishment elsewhere, but I couldn’t stay away. With no real plan, I found ways to insert myself in their lives. This time, as myself, ensuring they fell for me the way I had them.” Kallus stayed silent, staring at nothing for so long Jonathan almost poked him. Then, Kallus blinked. When he spoke, the excitement was gone, replaced with only a dead note. “It was a slap in my father’s face, having a son capable of falling in love. Then, we were mated, and his fury was like nothing I’d ever seen. I’d switched teams. Goddess Celeste had blessed me—the fifth prince of Hell’s son. It couldn’t stand. It wasn’t done.” Kallus’ gaze bounced back to Jonathan’s. “He came for us with every pack member he could find. One day, Asmodeus will do the same for your demon. In our world, sons obey their fathers or they die. In my case, my gorgeous Viking died protecting us, and my shy little mouse hates me for it.”

Jonathan wanted to rage against the unfairness of their world. He would die if anything happened to one of his mates. “It wasn’t hatred I felt from Baptiste when he was here earlier.”

Kallus shook his head. A sad smile touched his lips. “Trust me, he loathes me. It’s the only thing keeping him alive. If it wasn’t for my existence, he’d move on to the next life, but he thinks I want my freedom and his death would give it to me. So his hatred forces him from bed each day. Baptiste lives because his life brings me suffering. That’s what real unadulterated hatred is like. It hurts him to feel that way about someone he once loved. That’s what you feel from him, but make no mistake, it’s pure—untainted by a single drop of love.”

Jonathan stood and moved to the window, pulling the chalk from his pocket as he went. “Well, I have bad news for you. Malice isn’t enough any longer. Before he left, I saw his intentions. He’s going away, tidying up loose ends, and moving on to whatever reincarnation he gets next. Ethan will go with him, of course. He’ll help ease the pain of Baptiste’s passing. Ethan loves him, you know?” Jonathan said over his shoulder, rubbing salt in Kallus’ wounds. “He loves him enough to let him go, so Baptiste can find peace. That’s more than you can say, I think.”

The loudest, fakest, and most obnoxious laughter Jonathan had ever heard sounded from behind him. Jonathan turned, abandoning his plans of setting Kallus free with the appearance of his evil laughter. He focused on Kallus once more. The demon swiped at his eyes. “That was a good one, new king. Really. For someone all-seeing, you’re unnaturally blind. Ethan won’t be holding Baptiste’s hand while he crosses over. Quite the opposite, I imagine. I suggest you kill me now, because once Ethan is done with Baptiste, he’ll come for me.”

Confusion mixed with impending doom. “What do you mean?”

Kallus’ mouth lifted in one corner. “You honestly don’t know who Ethan really is, do you?”

Jonathan could only stare at Kallus in wonder. He had a terrible feeling he’d made a huge misstep. Now, all he could do was wait for the other shoe to drop.