Even better, he could hear Chris grumbling as he came to open the door to let him and Acheron into the house.
Wulf rose to his feet as they entered. He also gasped. Not that Urian blamed him. He knew he looked bad. He was pale, his clothes still covered in blood. And he was madder than ten liters of hell saturated by demon piss and poured down the throats of a starving Charonte. No doubt all of that radiated in his body language and eyes.
The blond Armani-wearing Dark-Hunter who was seated on their right was the first to recover himself and speak. “We were getting worried about you, Ash.”
The surly dark-haired bastard from the club who had a goatee snorted. “I wasn’t. But now that you’re here, do you need me for anything else?”
“No, Z,” Ash said quietly. “Thanks for coming.”
He inclined his head. “Any time you want me to help rip something apart, just give me call. But in the future, could you pick somewhere warmer to do it?” He flashed out of the room before anyone could respond.
The biker blond covered with Celtic tattoos smirked. “You know, it really pisses me off that he’s a god now.”
“Just make sure you don’t pisshimoff,” Acheron said in warning. “Or he might turn you into a toad.”
The Celt blustered. “He wouldn’t dare.”
Armani snorted. “We are talking about Zarek, right?”
“Oh yeah,” the Celt said. “Never mind.”
Armani stood up with a groan. “Well, since I’m one of the few nonimmortals in the room, I think I’m going to head to bed and rest.”
The Celt flexed his bandaged arm. “Sleep sounds like a plan to me.”
Chris threw the medical supplies back into a plastic box. “C’mon, guys, and I’ll show you where you can crash.”
Cassandra stood up with Erik in her arms, intending to follow after them. “I guess I should—”
“Wait,” Urian said, stopping her. “Can I hold him?”
She hesitated with a worried frown that he knew he’d earned. He’d barely looked at Erik before this. He hadn’t wanted to.
Part of it had been jealousy. Phoebe had wanted a baby desperately, and it had been the one thing he’d never been able to give her. Another had been pure, unadulterated grief. Because when he saw children, it took him back to his youth. Back to the days when his nieces and nephews had been born, and they’d been hopeful of finding an end to their curse.
Before there had been so many deaths. He hadn’t wanted to think about all the times he’d held Geras and Nephele when they were young.
But now …
Cassandra glanced to Ash, who nodded.
Her features reluctant, she handed Erik over to him.
Damn, it’d been so long since he last held a baby that he almost dropped the little squirmy thing. She actually had to show him how to hold one again.
How could he forget something so important as to hold the baby’s head and neck? But then it had literally been hundreds of years. Lucky for them both, it didn’t take long for it to come back to him. And the smell …
That he definitely remembered. That newborn baby smell. Before the world came and tainted them. Scarred them with its brutality and ugliness. Taught them to hate and to hurt. Taught their hearts to bleed.
He would give anything to spare this child the nightmares that were ahead for him. The harsh lessons that would come in the future and bring him to his knees.
“You’re so fragile,” Urian breathed at the tiny boy who eyed him so cluelessly about the misery this world was getting ready to unleash on him. “And yet you’re still alive while my Phoebe isn’t.”
Wulf took a step forward.
Acheron held him back. “Will you stay and guard your family?”
Urian snarled at Acheron for a reminder he despised him for. “My family is dead.” Thanks to Acheron and his mother.
