The Dark City Chronicles ⁓ Book Three
The apocalypse looms ever closer! Steamy romance, heart-stopping action, seductive vampires, magic that defies nature, sprinkles of dark-humor, and, as always, the everlasting bonds of friendship.
Hannah's strug...
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The faint soughing of the trees didn't relax him like he thought it might. He was tense, and it wasn't because Sterling left a nasty bite on his forearm when he'd been re-chaining him in the basement and forgot that the guy was a master at appearing domesticated.
Sterling was wild, and they worked years ago because Lucas got off on taming him, but now Sterling was a harsh reminder of his failures. He loosely held his cigarette between his fingers, no longer enjoying the familiar burn of tobacco in his lungs.
He watched the smoke dancing in the windy air, rising towards the black, star-spangled sky. There was a shed hidden by the foggy expanse of trees below. He debated trekking through the brush, taking a gun hanging inside, and blowing his head off.
The back door opened.
Maybe later.
He leaned heavily on the deck railing and flicked his cigarette away. The embers were snuffed out on the damp grass below. He didn't look to the soft creak of approach.
He knew who it was.
He'd know if he were blind—always.
Slender fingers came to rest on the dark wood of the railing near his forearm. The light above the door flickered every so often, bugs dancing in its bright stream.
When Lucas looked, his breath caught. Reid was effortlessly handsome. Even in the shadows of late evening, with his fair hair and deep blue eyes, Lucas might truly believe he was an angel come to life if he didn't have fangs to show otherwise.
"You should be asleep," Reid said.
"So should you."
Reid sighed, gaze averted, staring off at the foggy tops of the dense evergreens across the yard. His blue eyes found Lucas's again, sombre. "Is it Azrael? You have to know I'd never let him have you."
"Nah," Lucas said, stopping that shit immediately. "I don't need protection. Not from you—not from anybody."
"I want to protect you."
"I'll protect you," Lucas said huskily. "And when I can't anymore, I don't care about what happens to me."
Reid must have heard the seriousness of his voice, because he frowned, and his gaze averted again.
He wasn't entirely convinced that Azrael hadn't mistaken him for someone else. He hardly used his magic.
His mother had beat that out of him. When he was a kid, the second his gaze glowed from his power, the crack of her palm echoed in his ears, leaving a bruise on his cheek. That woman had a strike. Should have become a boxer. She never used her magic, either. Said that it brought too much attention.
He hadn't missed it, to be honest. He'd rather beat someone with his fists, easier and didn't sap his energy.
