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    Gluttony

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      as thieves.

      “Fine, I dare you to drink Sasha’s blood. Directly from the neck.”

      A series of “ooohs” and “ahhhs” erupted from the assembled group.

      Sasha ducked her head sheepishly, a tiny smile playing at her lips. I knew she

      had a crush on me, and though I would prefer Maggie as my girlfriend,

      Sasha was a solid second choice. She always carried homemade cookies.

      “Fine,” I agreed as Lupe released a whoop, running in the direction of

      the Capital building.

      The sun was bright today, illuminating the carefully planted perennials

      and roses lining the garden’s walkway. The sky was a canvas of brilliant

      light blue speckled intermittently with swaths of gold. One would think that

      the sky would be black with heavy storm clouds. It was only fitting—the worst

      day of my life deserved fucking storm clouds.

      Smirking, I rolled up my shirtsleeves and crawled over to Sasha.

      “Are you okay with this?” I questioned, tilting my head to the side. I

      hadn’t ever drunk directly from the source before. My dad had been trying to

      convince me, but I’d always refused.

      Sasha smiled again, nodding her head. “Yeah. I’ve never been bitten by a

      Vampire before.” She tilted her head to the side, revealing her milky white

      neck.

      “It shouldn’t hurt,” I murmured, eyeing the throbbing vein with a wanton

      need.

      “Just do it already!” another girl, Talia or something, screamed before

      breaking into giggles.

      My fangs extended as Sasha’s pulse thumped wildly beneath her skin. I

      was so, so thirsty...

      Without giving myself a second chance to think, to change my mind, I bit

      down. Blood immediately filled my mouth as I sucked deeply. Our venom was

      designed to ensure our victims felt no pain. No fear. When we were older, I

      heard we could release endorphins (whatever that meant) into the person’s

      bloodstream.

      Sasha released a gasp as I fed off of her. She tasted so damn good, her

      blood significantly sweeter than the blood I got from bags and animals. It

      was almost syrupy in texture, warm and inviting and soothing my throat. All

      of my pain diminished, replaced by this insatiable need to consume, consume,

      consume.

      I wanted more.

      I was dimly aware of someone screaming my name and telling me to stop.

      My brothers, more than likely. Atta was crying. A fireball from Bash

      penetrated my skin, but still, I drank. The blood refueled my depleted

      reserves. I didn’t feel pain with her sweet, sweet blood coursing through my

      system.

      I was positively gluttonous.

      Someone grabbed my shoulder and attempted to pull me off of her, but I

      shoved him away with an enraged snarl, momentarily taking my lips off her

      neck. But no, that wouldn’t do. I was still hungry.

      I dropped my face back to her bloody neck and resumed with renewed

      vigor.

      So, so thirsty.

      More bodies joined the first, pulling me away from my meal. I snarled

      and thrashed, a wild animal unleashed, before noticing the vacant-eyed body

      staring up at the sky.

      Her neck had been ripped out, blood staining her clothes and the pebble

      walkway. Her mouth was slightly open as if she had been in the midst of a

      scream before death claimed her with the finality it did everything.

      No. No. No. No.

      I killed her. I killed her. I killed her.

      As I watched, horrified, her face began to change and contort. Auburn

      hair turned into golden locks. Her freckles disappeared until her face was

      smooth and unblemished.

      Now, it was Z looking up at the cloudless sky. Dead.

      Because of me.

      Because of me.

      Because of me.

      I vowed to myself, right then and there, that I would never have blood

      again. Madness was the least I deserved after what I’d done to an innocent.

      I was pulled out of the memory by someone slapping me across the face.

      “How the hell did you get down?” Aaliyah questioned curiously as she

      glanced from the chains on the wooden X to my crumbled form. She shook

      her head once before kneeling down before me. “No matter.” Her hand

      touched my naked stomach, and I winced away from her. I didn’t want her

      touch. No, no, no. Her touch didn’t make my blood sing like my mate’s. And

      I needed my blood to sing.

      Sing. Sing. Sing.

      Her smile grew at my instinctive retreat, but she removed her hand. “I see

      that you’re healing… but you’re still refusing blood. Why?”

      Blood. Blood cascading down the walls. Staining my hands.

      So much blood.

      “I can change that, you know,” she added almost conversationally. She

      snapped her fingers, and my cell door was pushed open. An unfamiliar man

      was dragged inside. He was covered in dirt and soot with dark hair that hung

      to his shoulders. He trembled, staring wide-eyed at the two men who held

      each of his arms. “I have... a special power, I suppose you could say.”

      Aaliyah giggled, the sound deceptively childlike. “I was trying to give you

      time to join me on your own, but...” She shook her head forlornly. “You’re

      stubborn, Jax. I’ll give you that.”

      She leaned over me, teeth glimmering in the flickering candlelight. Her

      eyes ensnared mine, white wisps of smoking encircling my body like chains.

      I could feel her presence prodding at my mind, demanding entrance. I had to

      resist, I had to be stronger, I had to—

      “Give in,” she whispered, her smile growing. “Give in to your sin. Be

      gluttonous.”

      Something...cracked inside of me. That was the only word I could think

      of to use. The last shred of my humanity flitted away, carried by a gust of

      wind. I was a shell of the man I remembered.

      Be.

      Gluttonous.

      Need roared within me as I focused on the new man’s throat.

      So, so thirsty.

      No! Don’t! Stop! Don’t do this, Jax.

      “Give in!” Aaliyah roared, clawing at my fragile mind.

      The next thing I knew, I was lunging forward and tearing out the man’s

      throat.

      SIXTEEN

      Z

      I sat straight up with a gasp, heart splintering as I rapidly

      inventoried the room. Killian was directly beside me, eyes closed

      and breathing even. He looked different in sleep. Younger, almost,

      and softer. His red hair, interwoven with darker garnet streaks, fluttered

      around his sharp cheekbones.

      “He’s going to be okay,” a soft voice whispered. I spun, heart lodged in

      my throat, only to relax when I spotted Bash sitting rigidly on the chair

      beside me. “Lupe went to get some food for you guys for whenever you woke

      up,” he continued in that same calming voice. “Devlin is in his room, and

      Ryland is...somewhere.” He gestured vaguely around the room as if the

      Shadow could be hiding underneath the bed. Honestly? I wouldn’t be

      surprised.

      “Bash—”

      Placing his hands on his knees, Bash pushed himself up. His sculpted

      body flexed and dilated as he stretched his arms above his head. I was

      momentarily struck dumb. Bash was...sexy. All my
    mates were, honestly, but

      Bash embodied the boy-next-door stereotype wrapped in a deliciously dark

      package. With his blond hair rumpled and shirt creased with wrinkles, he

      looked nothing like the guy I had first met.

      The guy who was...snort...in the midst of an orgy with a flaccid dick.

      Long story.

      “I’ll leave,” he murmured, averting his eyes. I reached for him

      immediately, my fingers grazing his shirt sleeve.

      “Stay.” Did I plead? Fuck, I never pleaded. But the thought of Bash

      leaving—of him walking out that door—was a physical pain. It felt like

      dozens of tiny knives jabbing at my heart, bleeding the organ dry.

      Bash hesitated, only briefly, before sitting once more in the plush

      armchair. He still looked tense, his muscles locked and rigid. He was a

      loaded gun seconds from going off.

      And I just happened to be in the pathway of the bullet.

      “I assumed you would want me to leave,” he said, tone deceptively light

      and casual. His fingers thrummed on the armrest as he stared intently at a

      hole in the chair, the sheet on the bed, anywhere besides my probing eyes. I

      half wondered if he was a coward...or the smartest man alive.

      “Why?” I sat up slightly, testing my sore muscles. I felt drained and tired,

      but other than that, I was perfectly fine. I wondered if this was what Sleeping

      Beauty felt like when she woke up.

      On second thought, ew. The original story had the princess waking up

      after being raped and her twin babies kicking in her stomach.

      Ignoring my question, Bash released a heavy breath. It wasn’t technically

      a sigh—it was almost as if he needed to make a conscious effort to breathe.

      “I checked you over extensively. You’ll be sore, but...” He scrubbed a

      hand down his haggard face.

      “Sore but fine?” I finished for him, and his eyes snapped up to me. Bright

      and wide and knowing. I had the distinct feeling he saw me more clearly than

      I ever saw myself. “Bash?”

      His jaw clenched as he ripped his gaze away from me, focusing instead

      on his shortened nails.

      “You don’t like me very much, do you?” he pointed out grimly. At my

      stunned silence, he released another pent-up breath. “I don’t blame you. I was

      a bit of an asshole.”

      “A bit?” I interrupted, snorting. His lips twitched slightly in amusement.

      “Anyway, if you don’t want me as your mate, I’ll go. I’ll leave. Just say

      the fucking word and I’m gone.”

      My breath caught as I stared at the man before me. The broken man. God,

      why hadn’t I noticed how badly he was hurting? Why hadn’t I seen his pain?

      Was that why he pushed me away?

      “I don’t want you to go,” I answered vehemently. And I didn’t. Bash

      might’ve annoyed the shit out of me—he might’ve been a condescending

      asshole—but he was still my mate.

      And for better or for worse, I cared about him.

      Bash’s eyes tightened briefly with emotion—raw, undiluted emotion—

      before his face turned serious. He leaned forward until his lips were a hair’s

      breadth away from mine.

      “I know,” he whispered, voice cold. Apathetic.

      I veered back as if I’d been slapped. “What?”

      “I know about the poison.”

      I imagined his words were similar to sticking your finger into an

      electrical socket. Or, hell, even a blazing inferno.

      My mouth slackened in shock as panic coursed through my veins. I stared

      at him numbly, and he stared back, neither of us giving anything away. His

      eyes were icy, lips pursed, but I could see a multitude of emotions hovering

      just beneath the surface.

      “I—” My feeble excuse was gratefully staved off by a muffled groan

      from beside me. I spun towards my Incubus mate as he lifted himself onto his

      elbows, his blankets pooling around him.

      “Z? What’s going on?” he murmured drowsily. “Bash, what the turd

      nugget are you doing in our room?”

      Turd nugget?

      Before I could comment on his questionable choice of curse words,

      Killian wrapped an arm around my stomach and cuddled me against his

      muscular, tattooed chest.

      “My girl and I are sleeping. Go away,” he murmured. Bash snorted,

      getting to his feet once more and crossing to the opposite side of the bed.

      With a malicious smile dancing on his lips, he grabbed a glass of water off

      the bedside table. Then, he poured the water onto Killian’s head.

      “What the hell, man?” Killian sputtered, wiping at the water droplets

      cascading down his cheeks. The cold water finally seemed to penetrate his

      sleepy brain. He glanced at me, then at Bash, and then back at me.

      “What...whattt happened?” His stutter made another appearance as he finally

      seemed to realize the magnitude of the situation. He scrubbed at his smooth-

      shaven chin absent-mindedly. “I remember going to check on Z...”

      “We were attacked,” I filled in, smoothing down his disheveled red hair.

      “A Basilisk. He poisoned you, and I accidentally got some of the poison on

      me as well.”

      Killian’s eyes widened in remembrance—hell, it might’ve been plain old

      constipation—before he pulled me into his arms.

      “Are you okay? Are you hurt? You don’t feel light-headed, do you?”

      I stroked his bare back soothingly. The old me would’ve laughed at his

      over-protectiveness. The new me simply wanted to bask in it.

      “I’m fine. It’s you I’m worried about. You were fucking stabbed, Kill.” I

      pulled away to stare at him, lowering my gaze to his chest and stomach. His

      skin had been cleaned of blood, and when I touched his back, I felt nothing

      but a puckered scar. I knew that it, too, would disappear with time. It was a

      part of an Incubus’s allure—physical blemishes never lasted long.

      “Bash must’ve saved my ass again,” Killian said fondly, throwing a smile

      at his brother. The Mage’s face was unreadable, hewn from stone, but he

      managed a brisk nod.

      “Of course,” he murmured. His eyes pierced me, bled me, and then

      haphazardly stitched me up.

      I couldn’t get over the fact that Bash knew—he knew my dirty little

      secret. Had he told the others? Would he? There was a reason I had been

      keeping it quiet. I knew my mates would be devastated if they knew the truth.

      Life was fleeting. There and gone in seconds. It was a corn stalk sitting in

      an empty field, the wind rippling through the open expanse. One strong gust

      could completely blow it away.

      I knew my entire life that I was going to die young. Knew and even

      accepted it. How could I not? I saw people die every damn day in my line of

      duty. Friends, family members, acquaintances. My own parents were

      murdered before my very eyes. As was S, one of my first loves. Something

      fundamental inside of me died with them—a piece of me I knew I would

      never get back.

      I didn’t want my mates to experience the same pain that I had. I didn’t

      want them to fret over the inevitable. Was it selfish? Maybe.

      I just knew a part of me would die if they ever learned the truth. At least,

      die before my expiration date.

      Killian
    intertwined his fingers with mine and offered me a shy smile.

      “I’m really glad you’re okay,” he whispered, low enough so the words stayed

      between the two of us. I gave his hand a squeeze in response.

      “And I’m really glad you’re okay.”

      Because a world without Killian wasn’t one I wanted to live in.

      The door to my room was pushed open, and the first thing I saw was a

      chiseled ass. And, yes, I was openly ogling said ass. No, I wasn’t going to

      apologize.

      Using his ass to push open the door, Lupe wheeled in a cart of delicious

      smelling food. I spotted glazed strawberries, chicken fillets, and even a bowl

      of ice cream. The large man looked positively domestic.

      My body filled with warmth as he spun around, finally noticing me and

      Killian sitting up in bed.

      “You’re awake!” he exclaimed, running forward. He looked as if he was

      seconds from tackling me, but he managed to stop himself just before he

      touched me. Instead, his hands hovered over my arms and shoulders as if he

      was desperate to hold me but didn’t dare. “I was so fucking worried.” His

      voice lowered to a primal growl. “Don’t do that to me again.”

      “I’ll try not to get poisoned, don’t worry,” I drawled sarcastically, but

      inside, I was floating. Yeah, these men were starting to wear me down.

      Chipping away the hard exterior to reveal the malleable, gooey center. If B

      could see me now...

      My good mood rapidly faded, as it always did when I thought about the

      leader of the Alphabet Resistance. According to HH and T, the compound

      that housed over one hundred members had been emptied. No one knew

      where they went.

      Or if they were even alive.

      I shook my head to clear my cluttered thoughts, smiling up at the massive

      man above me. He didn’t have his glasses on, so his face looked even more

      masculine. With his brown scruff, piercing eyes, and slightly crooked nose,

      he was beautiful. Sexy.

      Almost hesitantly, I reached up to touch his face. Yeah, he was my mate

      and I knew he cared about me (shower sexy times, anyone?), but I was still

      unsure of how to act around him. Around any of them, actually.

      “I’m okay,” I whispered, leaning forward to kiss first one cheek and then

      the other. Lupe’s eyes flared with heat and something else, something I didn’t

      want to name. Changing the subject, I asked, “What’s the plan? For

     


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