Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
Kit
The following night, Kit woke up in his favourite place: Quin’s embrace. They’d gone back to Quin’s after catching up with Rake, Shaun and DJ, leaving the trio in Kit’s flat. He chose not to think too hard about how much cleaning would be required once those three were done with it.
“Hello,” Quin murmured into the back of Kit’s head.
Kit shuffled backwards, pressing himself against Quin’s front. “Hi.”
Quin stretched his body out, the cracks and pops telling Kit that he’d been lying there almost as long as Kit had. “Did you leave the bed at all today?” Kit asked.
“Once or twice. Got away with staying off-camera for a work check-in. Which was a good thing, ’cause I hadn’t bothered getting dressed. Figured we’d be up all night and wanted to get as much sleep in as possible.”
A pang of guilt crawled up Kit’s throat. “Are you okay with having to spend your nights awake and days asleep?”
“Wouldn’t do it if I didn’t want to,” Quin said. “Good thing I’m a night owl. You ready to see Conroy again?”
“I’m going to have to be.”
Quin turned Kit over so that they were looking at each other. “We can change our course of action if you think it isn’t the right thing to do, remember?”
Kit nodded. “I know.”
“Let’s get up. The more of the night we have to do this, the better.”
They got up and showered separately, to Kit’s chagrin. Quin stated that if they went in together, they’d end up taking time that they didn’t have. Quin was correct, but Kit didn’t have to be happy about it.
“The others will probably be jizzing all over each other right now,” he complained.
“None of them take twenty minutes to do their hair,” Quin countered.
“I do not take that long.”
Quin raised a disbelieving brow but didn’t argue further.
Half an hour later—Kit hemmed and hawed over what was appropriate attire for facing down your enemies and asking them for a favour—he drove them to his flat.
The trio had driven up, but they were all going to pile into Kit’s vehicle for the short trip to St Andrews, in case they needed to make a clean, quick getaway.
The trio had to squeeze in close in the back seat, though Kit knew it wouldn’t bother them in the slightest.
In between paying attention to the road, Kit couldn’t help but eye Shaun’s slim leather choker that was incongruous with the rest of his casual outfit.
It wasn’t a fashion statement. DJ’s collar—a silver chain—was peeking out from beneath the neckline of his shirt and could be mistaken for a simple necklace.
No matter what the pieces looked like, though, they still represented Rake’s ownership.
“What?” Shaun said, catching Kit staring.
Kit scrabbled for a suitable lie. “You have a hickey on your neck. How high school of you.”
Shaun shot him a cheeky smile. “Sure I do. Sir wasn’t about to let us walk into a nest without looking claimed.”
Quin glanced over at Kit. “Should I be concerned about that with you?”
“You’re fine,” DJ said, flapping a hand in the air. “Kit smells like he bathed in your scent.”
“I showered and used normal grooming products, thank you very much,” Kit retorted.
“You’ve been feeding solely from him, haven’t you?” Shaun said, sitting forward in the middle seat as far as he could whilst being pressed between Rake and DJ.
“Yeah.”
“I can tell. You both smell the same.”
Maybe Kit didn’t need to wear Quin’s collar if anyone with supernatural senses could tell that the two of them were together.
Still, he touched his bare neck, wondering what it would be like to be so overt in stating what they meant to each other.
The last item he’d worn around his neck had been his old school tie.
Perhaps it was time to replace the memory with a more pleasant experience.
“Kit?” Quin’s voice drew him back to the present. “I asked if you remembered what the hell those other vampires with Conroy were called.”
“Kezia and Tati.”
“And the witches are Roxana—I think she goes by Roxy—and Xavier,” Quin said. “Sister and brother.”
“Russian accents,” Kit added.
“Are all witches Russian?” Rake asked.
“Just these particular ones,” Quin said. “My pack had dealings with an Italian one in Wales. Witches are more common in some countries than others.”
“How does their magic work?” Rake asked. He always seemed to have questions.
“Not sure, exactly,” Quin said. “They seem to channel it through objects.”
“Xavier had lots of rings, and Roxy had her necklaces. Must be how they harness it,” Kit said.
“Cool,” DJ said. “Magic, but make it fashion.”
Shaun snorted. Kit kept his face blank, though he was also trying not to laugh.
DJ pointed a finger in Kit’s direction. “You’re smiling.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never smiled in my life.”
“You smile every time that you look at Quin,” Rake said, though his attention was out the window and not on the conversation.
On cue, Quin gave Kit a satisfied look that had him resisting the instinct to smile. “Fuck off,” he said, then glared at Rake in the rearview mirror. “And fuck you too.”
Quin chuckled, though Rake remained as unbothered as ever, only humming a quiet acknowledgement of Kit having addressed him.
As St Andrews came into sight, a restless energy built in the car. The reality of facing down a nest of vampires was enough to sober them.
“We need to feed before we get there,” Shaun said. “In case there’s any fighting required.”
“We should park away from the church, then,” Quin said, and Kit duly put his indicator on. “You can grab someone on the way.”
Once Kit had found a place to park, the trio skulked down an alleyway after an older American couple. Shaun and DJ fed on one human each, with Rake feeding from both of his partners afterwards.
“Down a dingy alley,” Kit muttered to Quin as they stood at the end of the lane, waiting for them to be done with their dinner. “It’s like they’re cosplaying as vampires.”
Shaun’s teeth flashed at them in the darkness. “Do these fangs look false to you?” he called, just loud enough to be heard.
“You know, I think a cape would be dashing,” DJ said.
“You’re dashing already, sweetheart,” Rake said as he removed his mouth from DJ’s wrist.
Kit pretended to throw up. “Stop flirting and get your game faces on, people.”
Shaun compelled the couple to forget everything and then sent them back to their hotel room. As the triad made their way to where Kit and Quin were waiting, Shaun licked his lips. “Was it just me, or were they spicy?”
“Just you, sweetheart,” Rake said.
“Not one note of seasoning to be found in their blood,” DJ confirmed.
Shaun harrumphed. “I tasted cumin.”
“Yes,” Rake agreed. “Not spicy.”
As they approached the church, Kit grabbed hold of Quin’s hand. He liked how his own fit in Quin’s, and how it left him feeling all warm and mushy inside. More importantly, it gave him confidence that he had someone at his side, always.
They entered the building without issue. But when they arrived in the former nave, the sight of several feasting vampires greeted them. A group of university-age people were on the menu that night—the young adults spread out across the room on sofas where Conroy’s creations fed on them.
Kit sniffed the air. There was no scent of distress or fear, only unmitigated lust that clogged his nostrils.
Conroy left the man he was sharing to come over to them. “I’m surprised you’re willing to show your faces here,” he said, eyes devouring each of them.
Kit stepped to the front. “We’d like to speak to Roxy and Xavier.” At his words, Kezia and Tati appeared at the top of the stairs. Neither of them came down, sticking with the higher ground.
Conroy scrutinised Kit. “Why would I do you any favours?”
“Because I’ll take it as an apology for trying to kill me,” Quin said.
“But that would presume I’m sorry about it, and I ain’t.”
“We need to talk to them,” Kit said.
“I don’t keep tabs on them,” Conroy said with a shrug. “But introduce me to your friends, and I might consider tryin’ to find them.”
Kit pointed at each of the trio in quick succession. “Rake, Shaun, DJ. Now, text Roxy or however else you get hold of her.”
“You’re treadin’ on thin ice, boy.”
“I don’t have time for this,” Kit said. “Let us speak to them.”
“No.”
“Then we’re going to have to resort to other means.
” Shaun blurred forward, punching Conroy in the face.
Conroy reeled from the punch, and DJ and Rake moved in unison.
They each grabbed one of Conroy’s arms and pushed him onto the floor, pinning him.
Conroy was older than all of them, but three against one was enough to give the trio the upper hand.
Shaun pounced on Conroy, hands fixing around his neck.
Conroy’s creations circled, but didn’t look willing to risk the safety of their creator by making a move that would give Shaun an excuse to tear his throat out.
Kit had banked on the blood pact extending to Conroy’s creations, and his gamble was rewarded when none of them retaliated by attacking him or Quin.
Kit may share blood with Shaun, Rake and DJ, but he had recreated none of them directly. Otherwise, they’d have been screwed.
Kezia and Tati blurred down the stairs to hover close. “Let our Master go!” Kezia demanded, but nobody paid her any attention.
Kit edged closer to Conroy, Quin shadowing his movement. “How about you give us her contact now?” Kit asked.
“I’m going to rip out your werewolf’s heart,” Conroy spat. “And then eat it in front of you.”
“Gonna be difficult to do that in your current position,” Quin said.
“Plus,” DJ said, voice strained from holding Conroy down, “pretty sure that Quin would be dead without his heart, so you’d poison yourself with his blood. It’s not the revenge that you think it is.”
Conroy spluttered a vague threat, but the heightened pressure that built in the room distracted Kit. He whipped around to see Roxy and Xavier stepping into existence through an invisible door, landing on the altar.