Jono had no idea which Coyote he was speaking with, but he didn’t care. “I want Patrick.”
Áltsé Hashké looked at him, thenthroughhim, and Jono felt as if he was being peeled apart in layers. Only Fenrir’s snarl pushed the sensation away.
“A fitting choice, Fenrir,” Áltsé Hashké said as he stepped aside.
“Thatis interesting to know,” Lucien said from behind Jono.
Jono ignored the vampire in favor of Patrick, breath catching in his throat as he saw the state the other man was in. Torn shirt and ripped jeans tangled around his thighs, drawing attention to the hard outline of his cock beneath his underwear. The smell of other people was pressed into his skin, mingling with the chemical undertone to his bitter scent. He had both hands covering his eyes, blood smeared around his mouth from a split lip that was still bleeding.
Jono forced himself to move, hands shaking with a rage that wanted to tear whoever had touched Patrick apart in a slow, painful rendering. He dropped to his knees, hands hovering over Patrick’s chest, not sure where to touch.
If he even should.
Because the signs were pointing to an act having been committed Jono didn’t want to think about.
“Pat,” Jono said in a low, rough voice. “It’s me.”
Patrick drew in a shaky breath, but he didn’t move his hands. “Jono?”
Jono pressed one hand against the pavement to steady himself, the force of his touch cracking the cement at the waver in Patrick’s voice. “Yeah, love. I’m here.”
“They made him take shine. They would not let my children leave without him doing so,” Áltsé Hashké said.
Jono didn’t realize he was growling until Patrick curled onto his side, one hand reaching toward Jono, the other still covering his eyes. “I’m gonna be sick.”
He took that as permission given. Jono reached for Patrick, helping him sit up so he wouldn’t choke while he vomited. Jono grabbed Patrick’s jeans and pulled them over his hips, holding them up when he realized the button was gone and the zipper was broken.
“It’s a sexual high. It’s meant to make humans pliant while vampires feed. It isn’t that way for magic users,” Carmen said.
“What do you mean?” Jono said through clenched teeth.
“If you gave someone the wrong blood type during a transfusion, they’d react badly to it. The same can be said of magic. Pure shine is made with vampire blood, and that carries traces of black magic in it. The same ability that enables magic users to reject the werevirus means they react differently to vampires.”
“Get to the fucking point.”
Carmen arched an eyebrow at him, the dark red pupils of her eyes burning in her unblinking gaze. “The high is intense and painful. It will strip him of control over his magic. The drug will burn out of his system in a few hours, but the symptoms will remain for longer. I can raise his sexual desire so the drug leaves his system faster.”
Jono had to force himself not to tighten his hold on Patrick. The younger man had enough bruises from tonight. “No.”
“Then I’ll deal with him,” Lucien said.
“Get fucked, mate.”
“Patrick is a mage. Are you willing to risk his magic going rogue?”
Jono pulled Patrick into his arms and cradled the other man close as he stood. “You eventhinkabout pushing desire at him or try to control him, and I’ll give Fenrir the freedom he so desperately wants.”
Lucien’s mouth curled. “As fun as that would be, Patrick still owes me answers. I’ll expect a report tomorrow if your building is still standing.”
Lucien and Carmen put their helmets back on and returned to their motorcycle. On the street, the traffic around them had barely moved. Jono didn’t know which god was behind the distortion, and he didn’t know how long it would last. Part of him was glad that no one else would get to see Patrick in this state.
Quetzalcoatl looked at Áltsé Hashké. “I will see them home.”
“Your brother shall not be forgiven his transgressions against the Diné,” Áltsé Hashké replied.
“Your grudges are notable, but misplaced. I will deal with Tezcatlipoca, not you.”
Áltsé Hashké just smiled, the gleam in his yellow eyes a promise Jono didn’t trust. Quetzalcoatl gestured at Jono to follow him back to the SUV. As he walked, the thick pressure in the air began to fade. When he looked over his shoulder, not trusting the god at his back, Áltsé Hashké was gone.
