Page 4

A pollo woke with a mouth tasting like vomit and a blazing headache. What the fuck had happened last night? He remembered meeting a French guy and then everything went blurry. He cracked open a sore eye and found himself in an unfamiliar room.

Apollo didn't do sleepovers with hookups as a rule. Had he hooked up? Gods, he had no idea. His eyes focused on a movie poster of Highlander from its original release. There was one guy he knew who would be a big enough nerd to have that on his walls.

Oh, no. Apollo smelled the pillow he was lying on and got an instant erection. Oh, no. Oh, no.

Oh, yes , the dragon growled happily, and Apollo rubbed his hard dick against the bed, seeking some friction. He stopped in horror and quickly sat up. No. He would not rub himself all over a bed like a horny cat.

Apollo drank some water from the glass on the bedside table and noticed the bucket beside it. It was clean, but his mouth told him he had definitely been throwing up. He never threw up.

What had he taken? He didn't do conventional drugs because when he wanted them, he made better and safer ones for natural highs. Something was very, very wrong.

If his suspicions weren't already roused enough, he saw a family picture that had been taken on Midsummer pinned to a corkboard with a bunch of other photos. He was in Lachlan Ironwood's bedroom.

"This can't be happening," he whispered. He stumbled into the bathroom and found a new toothbrush waiting for him. He opened it and scrubbed his teeth.

He washed his face and realized he wasn't in his own clothes. He was wearing a faded black T-shirt and boxers. He looked inside and was relieved to see he was wearing his own underwear, at least.

He checked all of his bits and was 90 percent sure he hadn't had sex. If he did have sex with Lachlan and couldn't remember anything, he was going to be pissed. But Lachlan hadn't been out with him last night, so how did he end up in his bed and wearing his clothes?

Because he was weak, Apollo lifted the shirt to his nose and inhaled their now combined scents. Longing and lust drove knives into his guts.

Nope. Nope. Nope.

He had to get out of there. He had to somehow sneak out of a mansion full of hunters and get his ass into an Uber.

He couldn't call his brothers. No one could know about this.

He found his phone next to the bed, but it was flat.

Never mind. The kitchen had a landline. He could sneak in there and use it to order a cab.

Fuck . Apollo didn't know where his clothes or shoes were, but it didn't matter. He had to get out of there. A big part of him longed to snoop through all of Lachlan's stuff, but he couldn't risk wasting the time.

Apollo was reaching for the door when it swung in and nearly hit him in the face. He stumbled backward. "What the fuck?"

"Oh, good, you're awake," Lachlan said with a smile. He held a cup of coffee in one hand and a glass of juice in the other. "I didn't know what you would want more, but you need to hydrate."

"I don't need aftercare. I need to go home," Apollo replied, trying to get around him.

"We didn't have sex." Lachlan blocked his path. "Trust me, golden boy, if we did, you would definitely need the aftercare."

Apollo flushed. He was not awake enough to deal with this. "I need to go home," he repeated.

"I know, but we need to sort some things out first. What do you remember about last night?" Lachlan set the drinks on top of a dresser but didn't move from where he stood, blocking the door.

Apollo huffed, knowing he wasn't going to get out of this conversation. "I don't know. I drank and danced. There was a guy—I think he was French—and then nothing?"

"That fucking dick injected you with drugs and tried to kidnap you," Lachlan said, his voice dropping to a growl.

"Yeah, right. I think I would know if I was kidnapped," Apollo replied, panic rising.

Lachlan reached for Apollo's shirt, but he smacked at his hand. Lachlan ignored him and yanked his shirt up.

"What do you call that bruise then? It's from when the van crashed, and the seat belt caught you."

Apollo stared down at the thick stripe of red and blue on his chest. He remembered having one just like it after his mother had died. He swallowed the knot in his throat. "I don't…remember."

"The fucker roofied you," Lachlan said. His fingers caressed over Apollo's ribs. "Nothing is broken. You're just a bit banged up."

Apollo's dick twitched dangerously, and he pushed his shirt down. "If all that's true, how did I get here?"

"I followed you. I was worried you were going to get into trouble and my hunch was right. I saw the fucker putting you into a van, and I stopped him."

Apollo rubbed at his neck. His mind was a complete blank. "What happened to him?"

"He's dead."

"You killed him?"

Lachlan crossed his arms. "I wanted to, but no. He used blood magic to kill himself. Said something about Sanguis Vitae, and that you were their prize. Name ring any bells?"

"It means Blood of Life in Latin. Sounds like a shit vampire band."

Lachlan's lips twitched into a smile. "I wish. The only thing Layla has been able to dig up is that they were an alchemical society in a branch of Catherine de Medici's court in France. And they are clearly doing blood magic."

"Which is fucked up at the best of times. I'll ask Cosimo. He's the Medici expert."

Lachlan still didn't move. "Any idea why they would be after you?"

"Maybe they are after my shampoo recipe," Apollo said sarcastically with a flutter of his eyelashes.

"These guys haven't been heard from in centuries, Apollo. Suddenly, they pop up and want to kidnap you. You need to take this seriously!" Lachlan growled out between his teeth.

"I am seriously going home. Now move," Apollo insisted. He yanked at the door handle, and Lachlan's hand shot out to keep it from opening.

"Let me drive you. Your clothes are in the wash, and your shoes are ruined. You vomited up all over them," he said.

Apollo covered his face with his hands and groaned. "Goddamn it. I liked those."

"You were in pretty bad shape. Let me get you home safe, okay?" Lachlan said. He looked tired, and guilt wormed its way through Apollo's guts. At least, he hoped it was guilt. He wasn't feeling great, and he needed to get to his own lab for some hangover cures.

"Okay, fine, but I'm taking the coffee," Apollo said and took the cup from the dresser. He sipped, knowing it was going to be made just the way he liked it.

"You can take whatever you like." Lachlan smiled, and he was so hot, it hurt.

Meanwhile, Apollo looked like trash and probably still smelled of booze and vomit. Gods, he wanted to crawl into his bed and cry.