“I…don’t… Buy a cloud, I suppose. Keep him locked there.”
“I do not recommend that, my friend. If you think he’s able to care for himself, you’ll never check on him.” His guilt wouldn’t let him.
“And the problem with that?”
“The fallen are practically mortal. He could decide to starve himself, waste away.” And you would only blame yourself.
Xerxes confronted Thane dead-on, determination radiating from him. “You’re right.”
“Aren’t I always?”
“I’ll leave him here for now. Check on him once a day. Force him to eat if necessary.”
“While you’re at it, talk to him,” Bjorn suggested. “Find out why he fell.”
Both of his boys knew it was just a matter of time before they, too, lost their wings and immortality. They would delay the inevitable for as long as they could, hence their cooperation now, but like Thane, they would never veer from the path they were on.
The demons had made sure of that.
Thane drained the rest of his drink, poured himself another and drained it, too. The potent alcohol burned going down, but by the time it reached his stomach, it cooled to a sweet, drugging warmth. And yet, the pleasant sensation did nothing to lessen the tension inside him.
“Did you find us girls for the evening?” he asked no one in particular.
“I did,” Bjorn answered. “They await us now.”
“What is mine? Vampire? Shifter?” Not that he cared. A female was a female was a female.
“She’s a Phoenix.”
All right, perhaps he did care. Excitement joined the tension that always hummed inside him, lighting him up from the inside out. So many immortal races walked the earth and several realms of the heavens. The Harpies, the Fae, the elves, the Gorgons, the sirens, the shifters and the Greek and Titan gods and goddesses—or so they liked to call themselves, when in truth they were nothing more than kings and queens who had allowed pride to exalt their opinions of themselves—and countless others. The Phoenix were the second-most dangerous.
Snake-shifters were the first.
Still, the Phoenix were blood-hungry and cruel, deriving glee from destruction. They lived and thrived in fire, and they could force the dead to rise from their graves—and those that rose were then bound to serve them, enslaved for the rest of eternity.
Thane set his empty glass on the bar and straightened. “I don’t want to leave her waiting any longer.”
Bjorn and Xerxes stood. Six long steps and he stood between them. They stalked forward, then branched apart, heading to three separate bedrooms. Only silence emanated from his. His hands were surprisingly steady as he shoved open the double doors. Closed them.
He heard the soft click of his friends’ doors as he considered his soon-to-be conquest.
The female reclined on the bed, a mound of pillows at her back. She was gloriously naked, hair of gold and scarlet like crackling flames and tumbling over one shoulder. Even at this distance, Thane could feel the heat of her, the warmth licking at him. Thin chains forged by an immortal blacksmith circled her wrists and ankles, rendering her a slave to her captor’s commands, the metal somehow compelling her to obey orders.
Bjorn must have purchased her in the sex market. “Do you want this?” he demanded. “Want me? Speak true.”
She licked her lips. “Oh, yes.”
“You do not feel forced?” There was only one line Thane would not cross in the bedroom, and that was forcing himself on another. “No matter what happens between us, you will be free to leave this place.”
“No, I’m not being forced. I was told I’d be paid.”
Ah. She wanted money, not him. He was utterly okay with that, had had to go this route before. “You will be.”
“Then why would I leave when wealth awaits me if I stay?” she asked, hooking a lock of hair behind her ear.