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Rocco’s ex had known exactly what he was doing with the stunt he’d pulled.

It hadn’t escaped his notice that the guy was Emilio’s opposite in almost every way as well—blond, scrawny, and clearly into Drama with a capital D.

Was that what turned Rocco on? He doubted it.

Rocco needed more of a challenge. It was there in his eyes every time he taunted him.

Emilio’s wolf was silent inside him as he ran faster than he should’ve through the city.

What a fucked-up night. The earlier tension with Kyan and the Council had put his protective drive on edge.

Combined with the ever-present itch of the incomplete mating bond, it had been a recipe for disaster.

What was he supposed to have done, though?

It’s not like he could stay away from the party when Marco had ordered him to attend.

A growl of frustration left him, and he forced himself to slow down before he drew any more attention he couldn’t afford.

His cousin seemed determined to throw him at Rocco, probably because bonding him would mean Emilio settling back in New Trinity.

Marco had never tried to force him to move home before because he knew it would make him miserable.

All bets were off now that his Alpha knew Rocco was his mate, though.

Marco just assumed a mating bond would bring the ultimate happiness.

As if they both hadn’t just stood over Emilio’s father’s grave after Gio’s mate killed him.

Mating bonds didn’t bring happiness; they brought weakness.

Weakness Emilio couldn’t afford. If he felt like an outsider now with the pack for what his father did, he could only imagine how much worse it would be if he followed in his dad’s pawprints and mated a witch.

Luca and Cal were different because Cal had been changed.

He was a wolf now, too. There was no way the Council would stand for such a move again.

That had been excused as life or death, but a simple mating bond was sufficient to gift a witch an immortal lifespan to match their wolf.

No transformation into a hybrid was necessary.

Why was he even thinking about this? He wasn’t going to mate with the witch.

He was going to finish his work for Marco and head back to Europe, where he was judged purely on the merits of his artwork and his perfect record as an assassin.

No one there expected him to fit in with the pack.

No one there could betray or abandon him, because he didn’t have any expectations to betray.

He just needed to figure out how to ditch Rocco without starting a war or getting the pack deposed by the Council.

Because he wasn’t sure how much longer he could control himself around his fated mate.

That was tomorrow’s problem. Right then, he needed to salvage this night and focus .

Heading toward a known red-light district, he scanned the figures lingering on the road for the vampire contact he’d made the other night.

As long as he was out, he might as well be productive.

He found Seth on a darkened corner dressed in a soft yellow skirt, heels, and a silk shirt unbuttoned to bare his thin, muscled torso to his customers’ inspection.

“Got something for me, sweetheart?” Emilio murmured, leaning in close and keeping his voice down so he’d look like any other John if someone was watching. It was a quiet night, though. All Seth’s usual customers were probably at the charity ball.

Seth glanced around nervously. Emilio grabbed his chin before he drew anyone’s eye.

Maybe recruiting the inexperienced vampire had been a mistake.

Seth hadn’t learned how to pass unnoticed yet.

It wasn’t uncommon for the vampires turned for the sex trade to take decades to figure out the strength and powers that came with their transformation.

Their pimps kept them helpless for as long as possible because it made them malleable. Easily manipulated. Fuckers.

“You don’t need to look. You have hearing even more acute than mine. Just listen. Do you hear anyone close enough to be a problem?”

Seth paused, tilting his head to the side. “No.”

“Good. I can’t scent anyone either. We’re just two men deciding if cash is going to be exchanged, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Excellent. And cash will be exchanged if you have something for me.”

The hope in the poor guy’s eyes was crushing.

A quiet night meant fuck-all money for the young sex worker, and Seth would have to give most of it away to his pimp.

Emilio could already make out every single one of his ribs.

When was the last time he had a decent meal?

And who thought it was a good idea to let a hungry vampire loose on the streets?

“I don’t have much. There’s a rumour the Silverlake Pack is having a similar problem, but I don’t know anyone out that way to check it out. ”

“That’s fine. I know their Alpha. I can follow up. What else?”

“I chatted to one of the homeless folks over in MC territory who witnessed one of the terrorist attacks. Said they saw armed men they didn’t recognise appear literally out of nowhere.”

“Were they high? The ones who hang in witch territory usually are.”

“No, I don’t think so. I couldn’t smell it on them, anyway. They said the way the men suddenly appeared was so bizarre that they spent half an hour searching the area for some kind of hidden door after they left.”

“You got the address?”

“Yeah, I’ll text it to you.”

“Good job,” Emilio said, tucking several hundred dollars and a hotel room key into Seth’s shirt pocket and patting his chest in what he hoped appeared a horny way when all he really wanted to do was take the young vampire home and look after him.

At least the damage to Seth’s face from that fucker Emilio had killed for him had healed.

The money and a safe place to sleep would have to do for now.

“The key is to Room 405. It’s booked for the night. Make sure you lock the door.”

Seth nodded, and Emilio left him to it. The vampire was probably waiting for the other shoe to drop.

For Emilio to meet him there and ask more of him than they’d agreed.

It wasn’t going to happen. The room contained a fresh blood bag, a spa bath, and a night off from this fucked-up existence the Cruor Coven had trapped the young man in.

As he made his way home, Emilio pondered the information Seth provided, sending off a text to the Silverlake Alpha as he went.

The fact the attackers appeared to be using a glamour to cover their tracks in MC territory reinforced his dad’s theory that an air witch from the MC was involved.

He really needed to check out the other air witches reporting to Blaze.

A familiar cocky form was leaning at the entry to his apartment when he got back.

With a groan, he realised he was going to get that chance to meet the other witches way too soon for his liking.

In all the chaos, he’d forgotten he was due to spend his first night at the MC clubhouse tomorrow.

Right after Rocco slept over at his apartment tonight.

Fuck.

“Feeling better, puppy?”

“I’m fine,” Emilio snapped.

“You took off pretty fast. Am I that irresistible?”

Emilio ignored him in favour of unlocking the door and heading up to his loft.

Yes, the asshole was fucking irresistible.

It was all he could do not to rip his clothes the rest of the way off and fuck him against the nearest surface.

Everything in him wanted to see what the air witch would look like ensnared in his ropes.

Helpless. Although nothing about Rocco was ever helpless.

That was half the problem. The man was too effortlessly powerful.

He could bind Emilio with his magic infinitely faster than Emilio could manage with ropework.

Why was that so fucking hot? His fangs were lengthening just from Rocco’s presence in his home.

His wolf was all too ready to bite, claim, mate .

“You can sleep on the couch,” Emilio growled, stalking to the kitchen for a glass of water to quench his suddenly endless thirst.

Rocco scoffed behind him, taking a seat at his dining table and leaning back as he spread his legs. “Nah, that’s not happening. Not my fault you’ve only got one bed. I’m not giving myself a backache on that thing.”

Growling in frustration, Emilio spun around and threw one of his knives at the infuriating man.

The asshole didn’t even blink as it slammed into the wooden chair he was sitting on, lodged to the hilt and quivering a hair’s breadth from the seam of Rocco’s pants where they stretched over an obvious bulge.

Sadly, his damn wolf hadn’t let him aim for flesh.

“That wasn’t very nice, puppy,” Rocco said, standing and stalking closer until Emilio was pinned between him and the kitchen bench. “Where’s that iron control you usually have?”

Rocco pushed his jacket off his shoulders and down his arms, nuzzling his cheek as he did.

Fuck knows why he let him. When Emilio went to pull his hands free of the sleeves and untangle himself, he found the task impossible.

The bastard was using his air magic to pin his arms behind his back with his own jacket.

Emilio went to slam his knee up into the man looming over him, but Rocco anticipated the move, twisting to take the hit to his muscled thigh instead.

“Get the fuck off me,” Emilio growled.

“You know what you need to say to get me off you. And a simple please is all I ask to get you off,” Rocco said with a smirk, trailing his hand down further until he was pressing directly against Emilio’s hard, aching cock. “Doesn’t seem like you mind being tied up all that much.”