You were my homeland and my reason for war. My devotion to you was eternal.
“I’ll follow you anywhere.”
27
VINCENT
“We need to remove your tracker,” you told me with a grave look.
“How fortuitous there’s a doctor in the house,” Lucian piped up, clearly delighted at the prospect of a little impromptu surgery.
Which was how I ended up straddling the back of the wooden chair. It was reclined, so I was bent forward at a 45-degree angle. Lucian crowded behind me while you mapped out where you thought the tracker was embedded. Yours and Lucian’s fingers pressed against my spine, but neither of you could detect any ridges or lumps.
“Is it here…” Lucian pressed two fingers to the nape of my neck. “Or here?” He slid an inch or two lower.
“I’m not sure.” You grumbled in frustration. “I wasn’t there when they had it implanted.”
And it wasn’t as if we could call up my parents to ask them. That would be like waving a huge red flag.
“I’d hate to be wrong,” Lucian said but when I glanced back, he flashed me a toothy grin. “I could simply make one nice, long cut.” He dragged one finger down the length of my spine, and I tensed from the contact.
“Lucian,” you snapped. “Don’t make it worse for him.”
“I’m fine,” I said, not wanting to look weak in front of our long-lost and possibly sadistic brother.
“Henri doesn’t want me to mar this lovely, youngblood skin,” Lucian said in a low purr. “But some of my former patients have found the experience quite exhilarating.”
He gave that last word a few extra syllables.
“Just do it,” I said through clenched teeth. “Drawing it out is only making it worse.”
“And we’re running out of time.” That was Seneser’s input from where he sat on the sectional sofa, still bound at his wrists and ankles.
Lucian assembled his tools—scalpel, tweezers, some kind of suctioning device that resembled a curved straw, and a terrifying hook. Despite all the blood we’d ingested, I felt a little woozy.
“Do you have any anesthetic or a numbing topical cream?” you asked Lucian.
“Where’s the fun in that?” Under the heat of your glare he added, “All I have is cocaine.”
“Are you high right now?” I asked.
“Lucky for you. I work better when I’m high.”
Lucian told you to stand in front of me so I could lean my head against your hip. Your hand raked through my hair and palmed the back of my scalp. It was a huge comfort, even though the more practical reason was so that you could hold my head still while Lucian knifed me.
“I still think I’d do a better job with my teeth,” Lucian said as he lifted the scalpel and twirled it between his fingers.
“Get on with it,” you said. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“This might be my only opportunity to lay hands on our pretty little brother, since you’re so bad at sharing.”
You literally growled at him, and I’d bet you bared your teeth as well. My face flushed when I remembered the state Lucian had seen me in last night, though at the time, I’d hardly cared.
“No need to be embarrassed, Vincent,” Lucian said, skimming his free hand up my back and causing me to shiver. “But if you ever want something a little more… atypical, my bedchamber door is always open.”
“Lucian, I swear to gods, I will crack open your ribcage and tear out your heart if you don’t shut your mouth and get moving.”
“Feeling insecure?” Lucian asked and then the point of his scalpel dug into my skin.
