Page 32 of Bottoms Up (Mythic Beast #4)

You’re up early.

I’m still charged up from the scene with Atlas two nights ago. He has so much raw, feral power.

Benji wants us to parachute into the canyon and climb out tonight, after dark. You up for it?

Can we be sure I’ll be back before sunrise?

The plan is to be back an hour before. If there’s a problem, we’ll have a bag we can put you in, and Atlas and I can watch over you until nightfall.

There are special light-blocking bags you can put a vampire into, in an emergency. Made of Kevlar and other knife-and-claw-proof materials, they still weren’t considered ideal from a safety perspective, but it’d keep the sun from frying him.

I’d love to go on an adventure with you, but I’ll need to look over the plans before I decide for certain. Are you enjoying your time with your brother?

I am, and you’re right. The timing is too tight. If we can’t figure out safer timing for the canyon trip, we’ll find something else to do.

We’d been at Homewood so often while I’d had to be in control of Julian, I’d lost the mindset of how important it is for him to be in a safe place well before sunrise.

The bags are for emergencies, for when Plan B and Plan C don’t work out.

I’d have to be more careful. His safety was so much more important than a thrill run into the canyon.

When we made it to the SUV, Atlas assured us he has his own gear and would be happy to accompany us.

He agreed with Julian about the timing, but had an idea for a different route — a little farther away, all climb, no hike, with steeper walls but not as tall.

We could be in and out in three or four hours, with a bigger safety margin to get us back to the hotel before sunrise.

And then he quizzed us about places we’d climbed. He seemed to relax when he heard some of the specific routes, along with details on what parts kicked our asses.

The gist of it, once he understood our skill level, was that if we took off at nine thirty and were dropped into the canyon a little after ten, we’d be out of there by two or three in the morning.

This gave us nearly three hours of a cushion, in case something went wrong, so we could be sure to get Julian back to safety before sunrise.

With Julian’s new power signature comes the ability to fly.

He had the takeoff part down, and the flying part, but the landings were still a work in progress.

He had to run a few steps before he could stop, like an Olympic sprinter crossing the finish line with bad brakes.

Still, it meant he didn’t need to be certified, since he’s super-strong and can fly.

Also, since he could suggest to the pilot that he’d seen all our licenses.

We stopped by the outfitter Benji had told me about, and I kind of went crazy buying equipment for both me and Julian. Or, I tried to. By the time I made it to the register, wallet in hand, my big brother had already paid for everything.

He’d probably already paid the pilot, too, but I’d figure out something to grab the check for.

“Marco talked Julian through the basics of where to put his money,” I told Benji on the way out the door. “There isn’t enough for you to worry with yet, but if you have any advice for him, I’d appreciate it.”

I told him how much Julian makes, gave a rough sketch of his practically nonexistent expenses, and Benji merely nodded.

We got my brother checked in, took his bags to his room thirty-two floors above ours, and then headed underground to see Julian.

All my angst about them meeting was for naught.

I mean, they’d met in business settings, but this was as family meeting the vampire boyfriend, but it was fine.

Benji gave Julian one of those assessing looks that’s probably in some Big Brother Manual, but he accepted Julian’s hand and shook it without hesitation.

I’d worried what we’d do for so long underground, but Atlas took us to a high-ceilinged workout area one floor down and worked with Julian so he’d be able to handle the ropes in the canyon.

No. Really. He taught him the ropes. Julian, ex-opera superstar and connoisseur of pain, learning to tie a proper figure-eight follow-through and a clove hitch under Atlas’s grim-eyed tutelage. Honestly, I needed popcorn.

And yes, Julian can fly, but on the off chance someone was close enough to watch us, he’d have to make it look good.

Benji and I ate in the buffet on the main floor upstairs a little after seven, while Julian fed from Gavin’s flock — just blood, without the sex.

Atlas insisted we take the limo to the helipad, with a second driver who could also act as backup security.

Adventures with my brother are never dull. From packing our own parachutes to the chopper ride itself, everything hit that giddy mix of prep, thrill, and just enough danger to feel alive.

Jumping out of a perfectly functional helicopter is always a huge adrenaline rush — the noise, the sudden drop, the way the ground races up at you, and then that gut-punch moment when the chute opens and everything slows in a heart-stuttering instant, closely followed by relief the setup worked.

It always has for me, but you still have to be ready to yank the reserve. Just in case.

It was all new to Julian, but he managed it without the fear most first-timers have. The fact he can fly obviously helped, but still, he followed the pre-jump checklist, packed his own chute under supervision, and jumped when told. No cheating on the descent.

However, I called him out for cheat-flying during the climbing portion of our adventure, and he didn’t even try to deny it. “I have no idea how you’re managing it without flying. You are shorter and weaker and—”

“And hard-headed as a bunker buster,” Benji cut in. “Though I’d assumed you’d have figured that out by now.”

The Grand Canyon isn’t a known climbing destination because the walls are soft. There are a few established routes, and now, thanks to Atlas, I was aware of an unknown route with bombproof placements, stable ledges, and natural protection lines — and not in any guidebook I’ve ever seen.

We topped out hours before dawn, and had a five-minute walk to the helicopter, waiting to return us to Vegas.

As we walked, Benji casually delivered what amounted to a How to Grow Your Money TED Talk. Julian listened with the same quiet intensity he brings to everything. Still, calm, all focus.

Benji paused once we were airborne, when he’d have needed to shout, but picked right back up in the limo, guiding Julian through diversification, ethical leverage options, and asking questions so Julian could decide his risk-versus-reward comfort level.

He also asked what Julian might enjoy investing in — not just what made sense on paper. Then he started showing him how to make that work.

And the way Julian leaned in, soaking it up like a man who’d never been taught to dream about a return on his own investments?

I’ve never loved my brother more.

Atlas even asked a few questions — all thoughtful, all grounded — and Benji answered those too, but never lost sight of the student he was there to teach. He treated Julian like a man worth mentoring. Not a pet project. Not an oddity.

Like family.