33
FEAR WEAKENS THE STRONGEST SOULS
HENRY
I run my fingers over Ivy’s collar, playing with the links and rubies as she purrs and stares up at me. In adoration. As if I’m the center of her galaxy and the star she orbits. It’s perfection. The way we should be—and I fucking love it.
As I loved last night.
It was unplanned and Ivy’s response was unexpected. Both her possessive outburst and her subsequent obedience.
“I have to meet Ryan.” I tug her collar and she bites her lip. “About the Blackthorn coven, not last night.” She stretches and her eyes spark with concern. “You were perfect, Ivy. Everything was perfect.”
She nods and exhales, leaning in as I kiss her and hold her against me, using the collar to do what it was meant for: control her .
“I’ll be back soon.”
I leave and head straight to my office, keen to get this awful meeting out of the way. Ryan’s tried his best to rearrange this with the priest, but he’s insisted on coming the day after I collared Ivy, and in all honesty we were lucky to avoid his presence at the ceremony.
“Matt’s waiting for the asshole,” Ryan says, not bothering to get up when I enter. “What do you think he wants?”
“To check on Ivy.” I arch my eyebrow. “The Brotherhood dislikes her being human. They detest the idea she’s agreeing to the bond as some way to buy immortality even more.”
“They’re unusually interested, Henry. Even for zealous cunts.” Ryan drums his fingers against the desk, watching me move to my chair. “I don’t think it’s you they’re interested in. It’s Ivy. I just don’t know why.”
My teeth grind hard enough to bite bone. There’s no getting away from the fact that Ryan’s right. The Brotherhood is keen to protect the purity of the binding bond, but this is excessive, even for them. They’re aware Ivy’s my mate and that should have alleviated their concerns about our union.
All it did was heighten them.
They’ve been unusually close to Rowan, although he fucked things up during the visit. Still, Rowan’s a smooth cunt and with his recent loss, he’ll need to strengthen any alliances he has. He’ll wrangle power from anywhere, even if that means making a deal with the fucking Brotherhood.
“Any news on Rowan?”
Ryan nods his head. “The coven’s depleted and he’s trying to rebuild. Marcus joining him is a problem, but we did enough damage to make him think twice about doing anything so fucking stupid.”
“It was close, Ryan. ”
“Yeah,” he says, closing his eyes for longer than he ought, presumably remembering what happened in the wood. With Ivy. When my fucking mate saved his life and he almost killed her for it. “My guess is Rowan thought he had a chance to take us out and persuaded Marcus to help him. Marcus was the brains but wasn’t expecting to be the brawn. That’ll sting and I don’t think he’ll move again.”
That’s good and bad news. It’s fewer numbers to worry about and Rowan will be more predictable without Marcus pulling the strings. But it means Rowan’s isolated and vulnerable, and likely to lash out. Violently. Irrationally. Dangerously.
For everyone.
Including the Brotherhood.
And that might be part of the reason for that cunt’s visit today.
“Do you think…”
Ryan nods. “It’s not inconceivable, Henry. Let’s be cautiously optimistic and see what happens.”
We sigh in unison, both convinced there’s little to be enthusiastic about. The Brotherhood is tricky and their reach runs far. Not depleting their power when they were weak was the single greatest mistake of my very long existence, although in my defense, I was busy chasing a woman.
I’m preoccupied with one now.
Utterly intoxicated with her.
She consumes my every waking thought, and I want her in too many ways to count. We’re only beginning to explore our connection, and yesterday was the start of Ivy exploring our bond in my world.
Footsteps whisper down the corridor, and Matt’s stride is instantly recognizable. There’s a second beat with it, slightly faster and less certain, and Ryan and I brace for the priest’s arrival.
“Lord,” Matt says, dipping his head as he enters.
We’re on formal protocol then.
Matt’s telling us he hates the asshole he’s showing in and he thinks he’s a threat. A significant one.
“Henry,” the priest says, pulling back his cowl.
It’s not the same priest.
This one is high-ranking. Very high-ranking. His face is marked with tattoos of orders most have forgotten and the lines of his face cut deeper than most. He’s battle-scarred, tried and tested, and it’s strange we haven’t met.
“You have me at a disadvantage,” I say, rising and dipping my head ever so slightly. Just enough to show a modicum of respect. “We were expecting the assigned priest.”
The priest’s jaw ticks. “He won’t be bothering you anymore.” His teeth grind slightly. “He won’t be bothering anyone anymore.” He offers me his hand and I notice the ring. The fucking high ring containing the bloodstone. “Emmanuel.”
I shake it and we meet, both refusing to concede status.
Ryan’s eyebrow barely moves but I notice it as he offers the priest a seat. He’s newly anointed in the seat of power, relatively speaking. I haven't met the new Deacon and I've spent the last century making excuses. Now I'm face to face with him, I'm almost disappointed.
He isn't as fearsome as the last one, but I wonder if that's what makes him so effective. He's fucking cunning and you underestimate him at your peril, and I'm not going to fall for it.
“The Brotherhood does not apologize,” he says, slowly. “But I fear some of us may have taken unfortunate actions that inconvenienced you. ”
That's an understatement and the cunt owes my wife a goddamn apology. She'll be getting it from him too, preferably sooner rather than later.
“Rowan has led some of our less experienced priests astray.” His fingers tap the arm of his chair. “I think you're aware he's been moving against you.”
I sigh, exasperated. “I was aware of it before he almost killed my wife.” I tap my foot and stare at Ryan. “With the help of your fucking priest.”
Emmanuel has the decency to pause, but he's nowhere near close to giving me what I want. “As I said, the Brotherhood does not apologize, Henry. Especially over minor inconveniences caused by a few rogue priests.”
It's Ryan who growls, and only now do I recognize how close he's grown to Ivy. He's not a threat, but her blood did more than save his life, and whatever's passed between them is more than words will ever say. More than I understand, but I don’t have the time to pay attention to Ryan’s bond with Ivy.
Not when the man who leads the Brotherhood admitted their involvement in attacking her.
“Interesting,” the deacon says. “Your second is unusually attached to her, and you are unusually unperturbed. For a mate.”
“A mate your rogue priests almost took from me,” I hiss. “I demand what is mine by right, Deacon. What I am owed.”
He doesn't flinch.
I'm impressed.
The price of my ask is high. Exceptionally high. And he's obliged to pay me. In blood and gold, with no escape for him or the Brotherhood. Not if they wish to maintain their authority.
He’s a dead man walking, but he doesn’t look concerned. He’s relaxed. Calm. Like he has a fucking plan and it’s going to save his life.
“I thought it might come to this,” Emmanuel says, leaning back as if he hasn't a care in the world. “I assume you'd be prepared to negotiate.”
Ryan and Matt cross their arms in unison, both signaling there's not a fucking chance either of them is happy with this idea. I’m not thrilled. It’ll be seen as a sign of weakness if the Brotherhood pays anything other than the full cost of their mistake, by those inside and outside the coven.
“There is a deal to be had, Henry,” the Deacon says in a voice so damn tempting even I want to consider taking it without a second thought. “One that would be in both our interests.”
He turns his head to stare at the painting on my wall, seemingly losing himself in the blue and green swirls that paint the reflection on the lily pond. The calm colors of the water are a far cry from the fiery amber of Matt’s irises and the rage burning through Ryan’s muscles.
“One that would protect your wife.”
Ryan snarls and sends the papers on my desk hurtling into the air as he lunges at the high priest, unleashing every ounce of anger in him. He’s fast but not fast enough, and Emmanuel leaps out of the way, turning as he lands effortlessly. Ryan crashes onto the empty chair, hurtling to the ground in an undignified landing from which there’s no recovery.
The Deacon of the Brotherhood might try to pass as a retired fighter, but he moves faster than lightning and he’s quite the force of nature. He’s crafty, hiding his skill behind a scholarly facade and I was fucking right not to underestimate the cunt.
“She is your mate and the Brotherhood does not wish to intervene when the gods have gifted her to you,” Emmanuel says, staring down at Ryan as he pulls himself to his feet.
“You’ve done a bit of fucking intervening already.”
My eyes flick to Ryan and tell him to shut the fuck up before I’m forced to do something he’ll regret. Matt moves from the edge of the room, snarling as he steps between his partner and the high priest, refusing to do anything other than protect what’s his. We’re all on edge, all ready to pounce, and the tension ratchets up as the four of us stare each other down.
“My mistake,” Emmanuel says, cool and collected. “I’d forgotten the pair of you are partners. You really should consider making the appropriate commitments to each other. It would be my honor to officiate your wedding myself.”
Matt’s eyes narrow and he takes a dangerous step forward.
“ENOUGH.”
The silence that descends on my office is louder than the roar of every fucking battle I’ve ever been in. Combined. Matt and Ryan seethe as the man in charge of the goddamn Brotherhood dusts himself down, finally showing that he’s having to adjust himself.
“Henry…”
“SHUT. UP.”
My eyes turn to Emmanuel and they pour pure venom at the asshole who dares to walk in here like he owns the fucking place while threatening my wife.
“I assure you I mean her no harm, Henry,” he says, flicking his eyes to Matt and Ryan. “Truly. I did not intend my words to be construed as a threat.”
“What is it you want, Emmanuel?”
I step around the desk, stalking toward him like the apex predator I am. Ryan may have missed, but I’m not Ryan. And there’s no way I’m fucking missing if the cunt even thinks about harming Ivy.
“A truce.” He nods. “An alliance, Henry. I want us to be friends.”
“You want forgiveness?” My voice is as sharp as a blade and it cuts through his bullshit like a knife. “You want fucking forgiveness when you should be on your fucking knees pleading for your life?”
He swallows. Finally, the cunt reacts.
I’m within my rights to demand his blood as payment—along with that of his high court—and no one would intervene to protect him or the Brotherhood. Their mistake has cost them dearly, and my refusal to listen to his terms might force him to break.
“If I can just explain…”
“Why?” I snarl.
“It’s in your…”
My eyebrow cuts him short.
“We should hear him,” Ryan says, tilting his head and letting a vicious amusement laces his tone. The kind a cat has when it plays with a mouse before the kill. “After all, we’ve got nothing to lose. We may as well hear what the cunt has to say before we end his pathetic life.”
Matt growls and closes on the priest, who now looks considerably less sure of himself. He’s facing three highly skilled, powerful vampires and none of us is in the mood for games.
“You remember the schism?” he says, quietly. We nod in unison, recalling the bloodbath that resulted when he seized control of the Brotherhood after some zealots tried to take charge. “After I took control, I eradicated most of the problem priests.”
Ryan snarls, aware the Brotherhood claimed all had been executed.
“One or two escaped, and they attempted a second schism. One that almost succeeded and we do not openly discuss.” Emmanuel sinks back, collapsing his weight onto one of the chairs. “The reason has nothing to do with the Brotherhood or our reputation. Or mine before you ask.”
He turns back to the painting and I wonder what he’s thinking now. Maybe he’s searching for the calm that obviously evades him, finding none as his body tenses and his breathing hitches.
“There’s a prophecy, Henry.” His voice trembles and his composure breaks. “Those I failed to kill and their followers believe you and Ivy fulfill it. That’s why they’ve been keeping such a close eye on you. It’s why they helped Rowan when he moved against you.”
“I don’t believe in nonsense.”
“You may think it’s drivel, but that’s irrelevant to the Brotherhood. It won’t affect whether it comes to pass either. I assume the dissenters thought they could discern if you fulfilled it by observing the pair of you, and then decided it was easier to kill one of you than risk letting things fall into place.”
He’s right.
Infuriatingly, undeniably, unwaveringly right.
It doesn’t matter what I think. Or Ivy. Or any of us in this fucking room. It matters what the cunts who are trying to take over the Brotherhood think—and they won’t stop hunting Ivy until they’re sure she’s no longer a threat.
“What’s the fucking prophecy?” Ryan asks.
“I can’t…”
Ryan moves faster than I’ve ever seen him move in all our years together, and his hand grips Emmanuel’s throat. His claws are millimeters away from severing his carotid and he won’t release him until he has his answer.
“You’re in no position to negotiate, priest.”
Emmanuel pales and the terror of death invades his consciousness, surpassing all his power gifted by the gods. He’s powerful and will age slowly, but still mortal, and his love of life will overcome his loyalty to any oath he’s sworn. Fear weakens even the strongest souls and his crumbles as Ryan’s grip tightens and he nods, acquiescing in silence.
“A mortal heart will entwine with one of eternal night, and a child of both worlds will rise. The child will mark the dawn of change, and the fate of those who walk the night and serve their gods will be in their hands.”
“That’s as specific as shit.” Matt slams his hand onto my desk.
“That’s the nature of prophecies.”
Anger rises from the pit of my stomach and heats my chest, burning hot enough to obliterate the infernos of Hell. “You think Ivy is the mortal heart, and we will have a child?”
Emmanuel nods.
“It isn’t possible,” I snarl, aching as every part of me wishes it was. My life was stolen before I had a child, and turning mortals isn’t quite the same. “I’ve lived long enough to know, Deacon.”
“The prophecy says otherwise.”
“It’s vague at best.” My hands clench into fists.
Ryan releases his grip and Emmanuel splutters, finally taking proper breaths as his lungs burn from their ordeal. “The child will have the power to bring about the Brotherhood’s downfall, Henry. That’s why they’re hunting Ivy. Rowan’s using this situation to gain power and take out an old rival.”
Of course, the cunt is using this to his own advantage .
“I propose we ally, Henry. All our resources will be at your disposal. We will help protect you and Ivy, and in return, you will help us find and kill the zealots who wish to see this prophecy undone.”
Matt slams his hand into the desk again. “No.”
A beat of silence passes before another takes hold, waiting for Matt to control himself and finish his fucking thought.
“If they fulfill this prophecy, the Brotherhood falls. That’s not in your interest, Emmanuel. Why should we work with you when this isn’t in your fucking interest?”
“Who says it’s not in my interest?” he says, his eyes sparking with a viciousness he’s concealed until now. He’s lethal and ruthless, a clever, cold and calculated predator who won’t let anything or anyone stand in the way of what he wants. Whatever that may be.
And that’s the question he needs to answer now. To my satisfaction.
“The Brotherhood is tired,” Emmanuel says. “It’s full of decadent priests who’ve succumbed to the weakness of power and its pleasure. I’ve tried to clean my house, but it's impossible. The problems are too deep-rooted, too tangled and embedded. There’s only one way to fix this, and it isn’t to repair what’s already broken.”
Build again.
The cunt wants to wash the slate clean and start over.
It’s bold. Fucking bold.
And he’s right. The Brotherhood is weak and arrogant, indulgent and self-serving. They forgot their place and purpose centuries ago, serving only themselves instead of us and our gods.
“You think their child will restore balance?” Ryan’s enraged and utterly calm. Completely controlled. Menacing. As territorial as if the promised child—my child, according to Emmanuel—is his. “You have no claim over them, Deacon. Renounce any and all fucking claim here and now, on a blood oath.”
Emmanuel nods. “Of course.” He extends his arm. “Contrary to your beliefs, I serve the gods. This prophecy is their will.”
I won’t hesitate.
Not when it might be my child.
Ivy’s child.
Our child .
“You swear to renounce all hold over my child, over Ivy’s child, over any children she or I have, separately or together?”
“I do.”
I bite and drink, draining him quickly. He pales and falters, holding onto his memories as he shields most of them. But not all, and I catch enough to know he’s sincere. It’s irrelevant now he’s made a blood oath, although his honesty is more reason to trust him.
I withdraw my fangs, pausing long enough to make him fearful, reminding him who commands authority. I drag my nail across my wrist and pour a few drops of blood into his mouth, resurrecting his life force, aware his heart beats with more resolve.
I hiss as I move away, turning to Matt and Ryan.
“Finish this.” I snarl as I leave my office. “Make whatever arrangements are needed. I have other things to take care of.”
Like Ivy.
I need her and the reassurance her warmth provides. Preferably wrapped around my cock while I’m coming hard enough to lose myself in her.