"You're an embarrassment. You know that, right?" Working a light sweat and dressed head to toe in black fighting gear, Lucian sidled up to the counter and dropped his new toy, his new weapon of choice-a Fusion tomahawk-on the granite.
"Watch it," Alexander said, knife in hand, head down, brutalizing some sad piece of fruit. "Evans just put this in yesterday."
Lucian's gaze slid over the gleaming slab of ebony stone. It was a damn shame. "Pureblood pavens do not have kitchens."
"Times have changed, little brother."
"So it would seem. Especial y when you're tracking an ingrate Impure male who wants nothing to do with our cause, instead of the one who wil get the Order off our asses."
"Ease up, Luca," Alexander said tightly. "You'l never understand what-"
"You'l do for a female? Hel no. Don't want to. And forget Gray-look at you. One second out of sparring practice and you're working on your slice and dice."
That made Alexander grin, shrug. "My true mate desires.
I provide."
Yes, the female. They screwed up everything. "Hey, your knife looks a little dul there, brother." Lucian yanked up the knife looks a little dul there, brother." Lucian yanked up the tomahawk and thrust it toward Alexander. "Wanna use mine?"
"Pass." Alexander waved the weapon away, his movements causing the lit votive candles on the countertop to twitch.
The house had just gone dark as the sun was up, and Alexander was working this romantic bul shit first thing in the morning for his veana.
"We should be continuing to train," Lucian said with obvious irritation. "And you're standing in what used to be our game room, looking like a fucking contestant on Top Chef."
Alexander pointed his knife at Lucian. "I knew you watched that bul shit."
"Seriously, Duro," Lucian said, using the affectionate word for brother with al the sarcasm he could muster. "If you're going this route then you need to swap out those battle blacks you're wearing for a nice white chef dress-
oh, shit, I mean coat."
"Hey-can you shut your hole for a moment and help me figure out the best way to serve this?"
"You're talking about the fruit, right? Because you've clearly already served up your bal s to that veana of yours."
A growl vibrated in Alexander's throat and his eyes flashed red. "Watch yourself, little brother," he said, fangs punching past his lower lip, "or I might be serving up yours."
Lucian grinned at the hunger running al up and down his brother's body language. Fight, maim, kill. It was right, good
-how a Pureblood paven should be.
"Isn't it a little early to be discussing bal s, gentlepaven ?"
And there it goes . . . Lucian mused darkly.
Stil wearing her doctor's coat from a night shift at the hospital, Sara Donohue, Alexander's true mate, walked into the room, went directly over to Chef Pureblood and kissed him, al sweet and possessive. Then she turned to Lucian, her blue eyes sparkling with humor. "I like a little fruit with my blood, Luca-is that a crime?"
"No, but forcing my brother to do the labor is."
She laughed. "Yeah, as if I could force him to do anything.
Have you met your brother?"
"It is a labor of love, my dear," Alexander said, his arms going around Sara's trim waist, his hunger to kil replaced by another kind of hunger. "And I can think of no other kind I would favor doing." With a quick tug, he spun Sara to face him once again. Grinning like an asshole in heat, he reached for a slice of fruit, then brought it up to her mouth.
"Mango," he said, teasing her lips apart. "It is a wonder.
She opens her mouth. I slide the slippery fruit between her lips, down her throat."
"Aww, fuck me," Lucian muttered.
"Yes," Alexander said, his eyes remaining on his mate. "I would say you need someone to fuck you, Luca."
"And to feed as well," Sara added with a grin. "Nothing is as sweet as the blood of the one you love."
"That is far less likely than the fuck, my love," Alexander said with a grin. "Lucian has never fed a female."
Sara looked surprised. "What? Why not?"
"He's a selfish prick." Alexander's grin widened; then he chuckled.
"You're real y a funny guy, you know that?" Lucian said dryly.
"I do. Yes."
But Lucian didn't contradict the statement. It was a wel -
known fact among his brothers that he was only too happy to drink from any female who offered herself up, and maybe one or two who didn't, but he had never given a drop of his red stuff to anyone, ever. Something within him had put the brakes on the equal-opportunity feed a long time ago, even before he'd run from his credenti. His mind, and every available vein, just refused to be a giver.
"Well, it's a pity you let Bronwyn go so easily," Sara added, glancing over her shoulder. "She may have changed your mind about both of those things."
Lucian shot her a blank stare. "Who?"
Sara laughed. "Please. Even I can't forget that veana. No scientist should be al owed to have a top half like that . . ."
Pul ing his mate even closer, Alexander's brows lifted.
"My love, whatever you need you know I wil agree to . . ."
"Down, boy," she muttered, patting his shoulder.
"Yes, Duros," came a male voice from the doorway, "ease up on the threesome talk, if you please."
"Jesus." Lucian turned to face his brother, the anger at last night's secret branding session with the Order stil alive within him. "It's about time you showed up."
Nicholas stood in the doorway, looking as though he'd like to rip the heads off everyone in the room.
"What news from the Eyes?" Alexander asked, keeping his veana close even as his tone changed to al professional. "Did you get a location?"
"No," Nicholas gritted out. "Wasn't a meet with the Eyes after all."
"No shit!" Alexander said. "Was it Dare?"
"Not in person."
Lucian gripped the wood handle of his tomahawk. "I knew we should've gone. I'm done respecting your judgment. We made a pact. We do this together."
"What does that mean?" Alexander asked, completely ignoring Lucian's rant. "'Not in person?' Did he send recruits?"
Nicholas didn't move, but his black eyes flashed. "He sent bait."
The soft movements coming from behind him had both Lucian and Alexander moving forward, weapons drawn, al kinds of deadly threats streaming from their mouths.
"No!" Nicholas shouted, arms shooting forward to block them both from advancing farther. "It's not what you think."
Lucian growled. "What I think is that you have a pretty little something back there. Bait, my ass!" He stabbed his tomahawk into the countertop. "Bring her out."
"Be cool, the both of you," Nicholas warned before motioning for whatever was behind his back to reveal itself.
"And by the way, it's not a her."
"One more time," Lucian said, dropping into a chair in the dimly lit library.
"Your son?" Alexander said brusquely, refusing to wait for Nicholas to reply.
Pacing the rug in front of the fireplace, Nicholas shook his head. They were alone now, the three of them, the exhausted balas in the care of Alexander's mate, Sara. "It's a lie," he uttered. "A manipulation."
"Who were you with?" Lucian asked.
"That matters not." Nicholas was a closed book when it came to relationships with females, and his brothers rarely inquired-no doubt out of respect for his past. Lucian and Alexander both knew of his whoring only in the past tense, and Nicholas would make sure it always remained so. The continued sel ing of his skin was his shame alone, his addiction that needed to be fed, and for the past several decades he had been wise about how he took on clients.
One per month, the funds in cash and hidden. "The boy isn't mine."
Alexander shot him a dark glare. "How do you know?"
"I don't." Fuck. "Not for certain. But I will."
Lucian stared at an invisible spot on the carpet. "He looks a bit like . . ."
"You," Nicholas said. "Yes, I know. The hair." Goddammit he needed . . . something-warm blood or gravo, the delectable poisoned blood he didn't al ow himself to sample anymore-the drug that had destroyed both his mother and himself. It was real y unbelievable how far Dare was wil ing to go to take out the Romans, get them off his trail. To destroy the life of a balas to stay alive . . .
"How did you find the boy?" Alexander asked.
Nicholas tread carefully. "A veana brought him to me.
She claims his mother died."
"Was the mother a veana?"
"Yes. Vermont credenti."
"Was she mated?"
Nicholas hesitated, then clipped a nod.
Alexander tossed him a sharp look. "Then the balas could be his."
"No."
"Why the hel not? Was he an Impure?"
"Short and sweet-he desired the company of pavens."
Lucian snorted. "Well, maybe he had a change of heart one night eight years ago."
"The paven is dead," Nicholas said, feeling ready to bolt-go after the veana who'd jumped out of his arms and into the sunlight. "Happened a month before the mother and I were together."
Alexander's eyes narrowed. "Perhaps she found a new mate. It has been known to happen after death."
"Possible," Nicholas acknowledged. "But she said nothing to me at the time."
"Where is this veana?" Lucian asked tightly. "The one who delivered the boy?"
"Gone."
"Gone where?"
"Back to her credenti."
Lucian pushed forward in his chair. "And you didn't try to stop her?"
"I tried."
"Not hard enough. You let her get away."
Nicholas's mouth twitched with annoyance. "I know where she is, where she ran to." He pulled out his BlackBerry.
"And as soon as the light dims I wil go to her. Squeeze until she tel s us where Dare is hidden."
"You're certain she's working for Dare," Alexander said.
"Not a hundred percent." There were the whip marks from Mondrar to consider. "But I don't trust her. In the meantime, you and Lucian can make contacts within the credentis, find out if there are Impures missing, any threats, rumors of action going down. We'l hit this from every angle."
"What about the boy?" Lucian asked. "Are we keeping him?"
"What fault of his is any of this?" Nicholas said, snapping the phone shut. "The balas wil have our protection until we can locate his true sire."