Page 42 of Moretti Blood Brothers: Vol. One Books #1-4

T he next evening, Craig stood in front of his pinboard full of Post-it notes, photos, and string with his arms crossed, one hand tapping his chin. Contemplating.

When would the fuckers strike?

The prince was right. It could happen at any time. He’d kicked himself for assuming it would be at the royal ball.

Or had Regan purposely given them that impression? He still didn’t trust the guy, no matter his story. Sure, yeah, they had his mate and daughter, which sucked, but it didn’t mean the old vampire was telling the entire truth. Craig may not be a mated vamp, but he’d seen enough to know loyalty always sat with the one you loved. Even the royal family, he suspected, would choose their mate if pushed. Though that was not something he would say out loud—he wasn’t fucking stupid.

It was why he’d gone to the king and spoken to him about Brayden. The prince had looked out of his mind that day. He still looked on edge, leaving him worried that his long-time friend was going to make a particularly bad decision.

He had never questioned Brayden’s loyalty to the race or to his family. But the day the prince had asked him to purchase the house in Hawaii, the powerful vampire’s eyes had been drunk with pain. It still gave him chills. Brayden would be an extremely dangerous vampire if allowed to go rogue. He knew from experience. Craig had once been on the edge—very fucking close—something only the prince knew.

He sat down at his desk and sighed. They were living in dangerous times, more dangerous than they realized. It’s not like anyone could have guessed the king was being poisoned. Goddamn! No one even knew it was possible.

It was clear they were on the brink of a coup by their greatest enemy. An enemy who now likely had a lot more knowledge of the royal family than ever before.

Regan was a piece of shit. He’d never trusted him, something that hadn’t sat well with Vincent and Brayden over the years. He didn’t give a fuck. He was the commander, not the diplomatic relations fucking officer. Regan should have fronted from the beginning. They could have found and evac’d his females; the old vampire knew the superior skills held by Brayden and Craig.

Love. It fucked with males’ brains. He was better off without it in his life.

And now they were in a damn mess. At least the king appeared to be recovering quickly and they were back inside the castle. Yet with Brayden—the most powerful vampire on the goddamn planet—distracted by his mate and standing on the edge of darkness, Craig was more nervous than he’d ever felt. If Brayden lost Willow, they would have a much greater threat to deal with.

He heard footsteps. Psychic motherfucker.

“Craig.”

“What’s up?”

The barely muttered greetings were one of familiarity. Both warriors, they didn’t bother with fake smiles and bullshit. He tapped the marker pen on the pad in front of him as Brayden leaned against the windowsill, crossing his arms. He stared at the floor for a long while.

“I want you to stop.”

Watching me was what he didn’t say. Of course Craig was watching him. His every fucking move. He didn’t want to lose the male, and he’d save him if it started happening, just as the prince had done for him.

“No.”

“I’m not going to snap.”

He dropped the pen on the desk. “Bullshit.”

Brayden looked up and shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. There was nothing passive about his movements. They were lethal and threatening.

To anyone other than him.

Probably.

“Brayden, if she chooses Hawaii—”

“She won’t!” His fangs extended, face darkening.

Craig shook his head, stood, and turned to face the board on his left again. “Whatever. I’m preparing for the possibility,” he said. “You have to know if you go over the edge, I’ll have to kill you.”

Brayden smirked, but there was no joy in it. “You could try, my friend.”

“Then don’t fucking make me.” He glared at the male who had saved him from the brink once upon a time.

“It’s not me you have to convince. My fate lies in the hands of one spectacularly gorgeous would-be princess,” Brayden pointed angrily.

“That’s bullshit and you know it. You’re the strongest vampire alive—in mind and body!”

Brayden snarled at him. “So you think she will leave?”

“I don’t know. My job is to protect this kingdom. The king. You.”

“I don’t need saving.” Brayden pointed at the board. “Keep your mind on the job and off me.”

Craig shook his head. “You are the job, my prince. Whether you can see it or not, right now, you’re a very real and potential threat.”

Brayden stared at him with darkness swirling in his eyes. “It won’t come to that.”

He hoped not. If it happened, it would be up to Craig, and Craig alone, to track and destroy the prince. In the process, it might just destroy them both.

Running footsteps. They both turned to the door as it flew open.

“Regan has received a call,” Marcus said, panting. “They want to meet in two hours.”

Brayden planted his hands low on his hips. “Where?”

“The bar at the Dunegrass Golf Club.”

“Get a team. I want every word and visual streamed to me in real time,” Brayden instructed.

Craig nodded. “Roger that. Meeting in five. Go round up the others. Bring two of your best LCs.”

“Yes, sir.” Marcus disappeared.

Brayden began walking toward the door.

“Focus on your mate. I’ll alert you immediately if there is an issue.” He looked his friend dead in the eye. “You saved me once. Let me have your back now.”

Brayden frowned, then nodded and left.