Page 88 of Redeemed

I know the vamp he means. Can a vampire be a warlock as well? Someone was helping Jacques find power, but we can answer that question when it jumps up to bite us. Hopefully not for a long while. This house, with its swimming pool and the view of forever, is too nice to let worry in.

Besides, we need the space. Abby’s still around, bitching about how I’m not her alpha, I’m her brother. She and Cliffe share a room downstairs, which gives us a little privacy, at least. They’re like, besties, and every so often they go out for a night on the town and I shudder at the stories they tell the next day. Being the older brother is hard.

Marcus and I are rebuilding our friendship in tiny little baby steps. He wants to be part of our pack, and so far I’ve moved from bad to neutral on the idea.

Trajan, Connor, and I can’t have sex anywhere, anytime anymore, but group homes are kind of a wolf thing.

“Hey, what time is it?” I shout the question, most of my attention on the garlic I’m mincing. Abby and Cliffe are drinking wine and coaching my cooking technique from the kitchen’s center island.

“Six forty-five,” Cliffe says, pouring herself another glass.

“Should you be cooking garlic?” Abby’s smirk says she’s teasing. “I mean, vampire and all.”

I smirk right back at her. “Old wives’ tale, doll.”

“I don’t mind garlic.” Trajan gets everyone’s attention. He’s leaning in the doorway, wearing a pair of track pants and—

“Your goddamn Mickey Mouse tee shirt,” I squeal. “Haven’t seen that one in way too long.”

My hit-man vampire’s all cute and sexy, hair messy, bulgy muscles bulging. “It’s the only thing that’s clean,” he says, and I sashay over for a quick kiss.

“I ran the washer this afternoon.” I shrug and return to my garlic. I still haven’t figured out what I’m going to do with my life, but for now, I’m happily making pasta with meat sauce and a big Caesar salad. Connor should be here soon, and I expect Marcus to join us, as well.

Trajan pours himself a shot of tequila. He leans against the island and even though I’ve got my back to him, I can feel the weight of his gaze. “Stop looking at my ass.” I stick my booty out to give him a better view.

“You love it,” he says, and I laugh some more, because I do.

“Ew.” Abby and Cliffe make faces. I ignore them. They move on to debating which podcast to listen to—they’re both true crime addicts—while I brown meat and steal glances at Trajan.

Connor and Marcus arrive at about the same time. I give Connor a kiss and give Marcus a smile and holler, “Plating! Everybody wash your hands and come to supper.”

They do and we sit down together. The dining room has a sideways view of the city lights and the conversation tumbles along. Connor shares tales of murder and mayhem and Marcus talks about his plan to return to Seattle to pack up our stuff. Ours. Mine and his. I guess we’re Angelenos now.

As soon as Connor’s done eating, I hop up, not even bothering to make an excuse for why he and Trajan need to come upstairs with me.

The others can clear the table.

We settle in Connor’s room. It doesn’t take much to get Connor out of his business clothes and even less time to make me naked. Trajan strips off his tee shirt—can’t get naughty with Mickey—and stretches out across the bed. Connor joins him, and I work my way in between them. I kneel there, vampire cock in one hand, Danaan cock in the other.

“This is good. This right here.” I stroke them, happy to be making my men happy.

“You’re good,” Trajan says, his dark eyes heavy with lust.

Connor wraps his hand around mine, guiding my stroke. “We’re good.”

We’re good, and I’m glad. We’ve still got stuff, but we’ve also got time. Time, and our unconventional pack, and our love. None of us have ever said that word, but it’s there in the connection we share, in our touch, in our hearts.

We’re right where we need to be.

The End