Apologies were meaningless to the dead and undead alike.
“One of these days, I will kill you,” Lucien promised, shoving the pistol harder against the underside of Patrick’s jaw.
“Fuck you, mate,” Jono said, the fury in his voice vibrating through his chest and into Patrick’s back. “Let him go before I rip your fucking face off.”
Patrick would’ve told him to shut up if he’d had the breath to spare.
“Does the wolf speak for you now?”
Patrick raised a hand and made a seesaw motion with it. “More like the Fates do. Couldn’t leave their favorite wolf behind.”
It wasn’t a threat, nor a warning, merely a fact Patrick didn’t mind sharing. However Lucien took it, it was enough to get him to finally back off.
Lucien’s fingers lifted off his throat one by one. The muzzle of the pistol skimmed up over his jaw to kiss his lips in a deadly promise before lifting away entirely. Patrick managed to draw in a single ragged breath before Jono was hauling him away from Lucien, putting space between them. Jono’s arms were strong around his body, holding him close as Patrick gingerly touched his throat with one hand.
“That’s gonna leave a bruise,” he muttered, voice coming out a little raspy.
When Patrick glanced up, Lucien was back by Carmen’s side, looking off into the darkness of the warehouse.
“Naheed, I require your presence,” Lucien called out.
Patrick tried taking a step forward, but Jono’s arms tightened, refusing to let him go. Patrick shot him an exasperated look. “You’re not helping, Jono.”
“You nearly got your head blown off by that fucker and you didn’t even fight him. You and your suicidal tendencies can sod off with me letting you go,” Jono retorted.
Patrick sighed in annoyance but figured this was one fight he clearly wouldn’t win without some effort. He focused instead on the woman with thick dark hair who came tottering into the light on wedge-heeled sandals, her summery sundress clean despite the filthy location. She led someone familiar by the hand, and Patrick made a strangled sound in the back of his throat.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Patrick demanded.
“What does it look like, Pattycakes? I’m delivering a message,” Hermes said as he sauntered forward.
Naheed let go of Hermes’ hand with a smile and picked her way daintily over to where Carmen stood. Her large blue-green eyes were curious, but she didn’t speak. Naheed was human, the necklace of scars on her throat proof of her status as a willing feeder to vampires. She was Lucien’s favorite meal, had been ever since Patrick first met her years ago.
Lucien had been given Naheed when she was a toddler as payment from a subjugated village in Afghanistan whose rulers didn’t want to become vampire fodder. She’d been hooked on opium at the age of three, along with her entire family, and had never known anything but addiction until Lucien claimed her. He’d cleaned her up because he had never liked the way drugs tasted in the blood of the humans he kept within his Night Court.
Marek pushed his way past Emma, an inner light glittering in the depths of his eyes. Emma grabbed him by the wrist and kept him from going any farther, but it seemed to take more strength than normal.
“Oh,” Marek said, not quite sounding like himself. “It’s you.”
Hermes placed one hand on his chest and bowed in Marek’s direction, the gesture surprisingly genuine. “Good evening, Skuld.”
Marek’s eyes washed out white, the shift in his voice frightening. “Cousin.”
Emma and Sage shared a bleak look while Leon’s expression remained unreadable. Patrick figured the three of them were well aware of what it meant when Fate took control of Marek’s life so thoroughly. Patrick really hoped the seer wouldn’t lose an entire color by the time this case was finished. He hated to think he’d be responsible for Marek getting that much closer to madness. All the money in the world couldn’t buy the seer sanity after a certain point.
Jono’s arms tightened around Patrick, warm hands skimming over his ribs through the T-shirt he wore. Patrick tried not to squirm.
“You don’t smell human, mate,” Jono said to Hermes.
Hermes winked at him, but there wasn’t any humor in the immortal’s face. “That’s because I’m not.”
“Then what are you?” Emma asked in a low voice. She still had hold of Marek, and the Fate inhabiting his body didn’t seem to mind.
Hermes ignored her in favor of wandering into Patrick’s personal space, not intimidated by Jono’s presence at all. He eyed the bruises Patrick could feel coming up on his throat and shook his head.
“You never learn, do you?” Hermes said.
Patrick dug in his heels when it felt like Jono was about to haul them both out of reach. Jono’s entire body went tense as Hermes leaned in and pressed his mouth to Patrick’s. Patrick could feel Jono growl more than hear it.
