Page 11 of Blades and Bone

Next to him, Brodie knelt, annoyingly calm and smug because he’d been told in advance. Clearly, his sister trusted him. He hated that Ann had blindsided him, and that Garrick had said nothing. He could have faked shock…couldn’t he?

Probably not. Garrick always said the truth showed too easily on his face.

“Brodie Ashby, do you swear your loyalty to me and the Ashby family?”

“I do.” He lifted his hand for Vivian to bite.

Her fangs nicked the skin of his wrist, and she licked the couple of drops.

Hamish’s pulse quickened. He hadn’t been bitten since last re-swearing, which felt like far too long ago, and his body betrayed how much he wanted to be bitten. He didn’t want to enjoy any part of this.

“Hamish Reid-Ashby, do you swear your loyalty to me and the Ashby family?”

That wasn’t his name. Except someone would have drawn up the paperwork and he’d be expected to sign it.

“I do.” He lifted his hand because it was expected. His toes curled in his socks as he tried to think of something else, but he was too aware of Brodie next to him and the watchful gaze of his family. His old family.

Vivian’s fangs sliced his wrist, and she took a couple of drops so she would know him by scent and taste. It was said the matriarch could taste betrayal too.

She licked his wrist and released his hand. “You may now seal your marriage.”

Still on his knees, he turned to Brodie as Brodie turned to him. Everyone was watching them. Was this the moment where one of them bit too deep and killed the other?

Should he go for something serviceable or enjoyable…he wasn’t going to rip open an artery and start a war, and neither was Brodie.

Brodie held his gaze, eyes like whiskey and brown hair with a hint of red that would gleam in the sun. He was attractive, more so if he wasn’t his jailer. Was he also debating the kind of bite? Perhaps they should have discussed this performance. Brodie offered his hand, and Hamish did the same, so they could bite at the same time as if they were equals.

Hamish traced the scratch left by Vivian with his tongue, and bit hard enough to take more than a polite drop. Brodie made a small sound as his blood trickled onto Hamish’s tongue. Fuck, he tasted good.

Brodie’s teeth slid into his wrist, his fingers caressing Hamish’s palm. The shock and delight of having the depth of bite returned caused him to inhale sharply as his dick hardened.

He lifted his gaze to find Brodie once again watching him and deliberately sucked once on the bite to see if Brodie was affected. He was—Hamish could taste the lust—but he was better at hiding it. Brodie returned the gesture, taking more from Hamish, teeth still in his wrist. Who would let go first?

It should be him.

It had to be him. Anything else was a challenge to his new family and husband, and they both knew it. Brodie would keep him there until he backed down.

If he wanted a longer leash, he had to at least appear to obey.

He lowered his gaze and removed his fangs from Brodie’s wrist, giving the wound a polite lick so it healed fast. Brodie waited another heartbeat, took another taste—asshole—and then released him with a final lick.

Still on their knees, the Ashby family tattooist asked for Brodie’s hand, re-inking the dagger and then Hamish’s with the same needle, since they shared the same blood, even if it was only by marriage. He watched the dagger take shape.

He’d been excited to get the red heart and had traced it several times in the ensuing days. Now as he watched the blade and hilt take form, he couldn’t get over how wrong it was to see it on his skin.

How long until the red on his wrist faded, or had it already begun to disappear since he’d tasted Vivian’s blood, symbolically becoming part of the family before swearing to her?

His skin burned from the fresh ink, and he stared at the completed marking. For a heartbeat, he wanted to cut off his own finger, the way a trapped animal might chew off its own leg.

He looked up.

Ann was glaring at him like he’d fucked up.

Garrick’s face gave away nothing.

“Shall we sign the treaty?” Ann asked.

He’d seen the bowl and quill be brought into the meeting room.