Page 110

Colin

“ O kay, what are we looking for here?” Colin asked.

He sat between them on the porch swing, sharp eyes focused on the street with gritty determination, like some sort of hipster general assessing his battlefield.

It was honestly cute as hell.

Dane couldn’t take it—he scooped the human onto his lap, wrapping his arms around his middle to keep him locked in place.

“Hey,” Colin protested, even as he leaned more fully back into Dane, his long legs sprawled on either side of Dane’s knees. “I was scoping things out.”

Dane nuzzled into his neck, breathing in his perfect scent. “You can see fine from here.”

“See?” Fox drawled. He spread his arms over the back of the swing and widened his legs, taking up every bit of space Colin had just vacated. “He’s always hogging you.”

Dane ignored the dig, squeezing his prize lightly.

His brother wasn’t actually jealous—Dane would be able to feel it if he was.

Besides, jealousy didn’t really exist between them.

It couldn’t—there simply wasn’t any room for it.

They were two sides of the same coin; what belonged to one belonged to the other.

And Colin belonged to both of them. Belonged with both of them.

The question was, For how long?

To give up my life? Who was he to demand it?

Was Serena right? Would it be the ultimate act of selfishness, to turn Colin without the guarantee of a bond? Even if he asked for it?

“You never answered me,” Colin prodded, interrupting Dane’s thoughts. “What are we looking for?”

“We usually go by scent,” Dane told him, resisting the urge to nose at his neck again. They had a task to accomplish, and he wouldn’t be able to focus if he was buried in their human the whole time. “Whoever smells especially good.”

Colin twisted his head to peer back at him. “Do I smell especially good?”

Fox chuckled beside them. “You smell the best of all, baby.”

Dane caught a glimpse of Colin looking smug as hell before he turned back to face the street.

“Pickings are a little slimmer in the summertime,” Fox pointed out, gesturing to the near-empty street. “We’ll look for what’s easiest. Someone walking alone.”

They’d waited until just about two in the morning—when the bars were closing—to come out for their hunt; they always got more foot traffic that time of night.

Plus, people were often tipsy, not paying as close attention to their surroundings.

They just had to be careful they didn’t catch someone too tipsy and get themselves drunk off their alcohol-laden blood in the meantime.

It wasn’t long before a woman looking to be somewhere in her thirties approached the sidewalk in front of their house. She was alone, her eyes on her phone even as she walked steadily forward.

Fox was off the porch and in front of her faster than the human eye could track, and Dane heard a little catch of Colin’s breath, followed by a whispered, “Whoa.”

Dane half listened to the sounds of Fox compelling the girl, telling her not to be afraid, to follow him to the porch. Usually Dane would be all about it, living vicariously through Fox’s hunt before it was his turn.

Sometimes it was almost as if he could taste the blood in his brother’s mouth.

But now Dane was more focused on the feel of the man in his arms, as Colin shifted on Dane’s lap, leaning forward as far as he could in his hold, as if afraid to miss even a moment of what was happening in front of him.

Colin leaned back again as Fox rejoined them on the swing, the compelled woman standing in front of him.

She smelled like expensive perfume, subtle enough to be pleasant, but it had nothing on Colin’s fresh desert scent.

Fox grabbed her wrist and brought it to his face.

From the street, if anyone even cared to look over, it would appear to be nothing more than a man nuzzling his head into his girlfriend’s hand.

There was a moment of eye contact from his brother before he bit in, and Dane understood the wordless message: Don’t give him a chance to get jealous.

So with the flash of Fox’s fangs, Dane bit in as well, into Colin’s soft, supple neck. He was rewarded with a gasp, Colin’s body tensing and relaxing again in the next second, melting into Dane’s hold.

Fuck, he tasted good. Like nothing else. It made Dane’s devil purr.

He was only allowing the smallest trickle of blood to enter his mouth, more than anything just resting his fangs inside Colin, keeping them warm.

But it was enough for Colin, responsive as he was.

Dane could tell his eyes were on Fox, watching him drink his fill from the woman he’d chosen, but there was a sensual lethargy to him—he was feeling the bite.

Fox was drinking perfunctorily, and while his chosen victim’s breaths were coming in fast, she wasn’t, as Fox had so eloquently put it, “coming in her pants.” In the past, Dane knew, Fox might have prolonged things.

He might have flirted and toyed with his prey, upping the pleasure of it all, the enticing feel of the chase.

But what was the point when they had the most delectable human to be found already within their grasp?

Colin had been made to feel inadequate before—by someone too selfish and stupid to recognize his worth—and neither Fox nor Dane was ever going to make that same mistake.

Fox finished his feed in minutes, and Dane released his own bite in time with his, licking it closed to the sweet sound of Colin’s soft sighs.

Fox sent the woman on her way.

“How was it?” Colin’s question came out breathy. He was heavy against Dane’s chest, his body practically boneless.

“Fine.” Fox smacked his lips. “Bland but nutritious.”

Colin cocked a brow. “You just described oatmeal.”

“Dane’s turn.” Fox leaned in, making obnoxious grabby hands at them. “Give me that.”

“I am not a that ,” Colin protested, even as he let himself be handed over.

Dane waited for his own meal impatiently. It was another ten minutes or so before a middle-aged man came by, smelling of whiskey but walking steadily enough.

Perfect.

Dane let his devil out and swept in front of him, cutting him off from his path. After Dane caught his eye, it only took a moment to lure him to the porch with the aid of compulsion.

When the man was in front of him on the swing, blocking Dane from view, Dane bit into the crook of his elbow, listening for Colin’s soft moan as Fox mirrored him, and wasn’t it the funniest thing?

It was that his devil focused on—the sound of Colin getting his bite—more than the rich blood filling their mouth.

The man wasn’t nearly as delicious as Colin, anyway.

But it was satisfying to fill his stomach for once.

Dane drank as much as he dared before letting the man go, ignoring Fox’s derisive snort when he added the instruction for him to drink enough water when he got home.

So what? He didn’t want some human passing out because he was careless.

He hummed, licking a few stray drops of blood off his lips. It wasn’t until he tried leaning back against the swing and miscalculated the distance that he realized how lightheaded he suddenly was.

“Damn,” he muttered, scooting back until he hit wood.

Fox laughed. “Oh shit.”

“What?” Colin sounded dazed and sleepy, and the combination had Dane’s cock filling—it was exactly what Colin sounded like when he was turned the fuck on.

“Dane just drank from a drunk,” Fox explained, amusement coating every word.

What a dick.

“He didn’t seem that drunk,” Dane protested, rolling his head to the side to glare at his brother.

Although, to be fair, Dane probably should have realized by the smell alone. But he’d been impatient, wanting to get it all over with and focus back on Colin. And, really, alcoholics could be misleading that way—they presented a much more sober front than was truthful.

Dane had been—he’d been tricked , damn it.

Colin’s brow was furrowed in confusion. “What does it matter if he was drunk?”

“Vamps can get tipsy if we drink from someone with a high blood alcohol level,” Fox explained. “It’s more efficient than straight from the bottle, actually, if that’s your goal.” He laughed again, clearly delighted by Dane’s predicament.

Why exactly did Dane love this asshole so much again?

“Shut it,” he griped. “Give ’im back to me.” He tugged Colin out of Fox’s arms, nuzzling back into the crook of his neck with a happy sigh.

There, that was better.

Except his cock was still hard from Colin’s sexy-ass voice, and he could practically smell the arousal coming off Colin’s skin. “Wanna fuck you,” he mumbled into that same soft skin, brushing his lips over the goose bumps that arose. “Can I? Feels so good to fuck you.”

Colin squirmed in his grasp. “Jesus. He’s a horny drunk,” he mock-whispered to Fox.

“He’ll back off if you tell him to.”

Was that even a fucking question? Of course Dane would back off. “Don’t have to fuck you,” he muttered. “Just wanna.”

Colin turned to face him, and he had the prettiest smile on his face. Dane wanted to bite it. Or kiss it? That probably made more sense.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Colin breathed the words into Dane’s ear, sending a shiver down Dane’s spine. “I want you to fuck me too.”

Well, Dane could work with that.

Dane resisted when Colin tried to pull him up the stairs, tugging him into the living room and over to the couch instead.

Dane had become very fond of their overstuffed, raggedy couch. This couch was where they’d first tasted Colin, first brought him to orgasm. It was where Colin had first let Dane hold him, falling asleep with his head on Dane’s lap.

This couch should be in a museum of all things good.

Dane fell back into it, pulling Colin with him so he was straddling Dane’s lap, this time facing toward him, his slender waist fitting perfectly into Dane’s hands.

The position had Colin looking down at him slightly. Dane grinned up at him. “Hello.”

“Hi.” Colin smiled that soft little smile he seemed to save just for Dane. “Fox says you’re drunk.”