Page 18 of Given

I swallowed a growl. “Having a long chat with that young brother about history, were you?”

One corner of his lips quirked up, which drew my gaze to his mouth. I tore it away, but probably not before he noticed me looking.

“You think I met him in here?” he asked, a teasing edge in his usual husky voice.

I met his gaze steadily. “You tell me.”

Laurent huffed a soft laugh. “Trust me, Varick, the brother is much more interested in you, for reasons both obvious and less obvious.”

Confusion drifted through me, which only made my temper flare higher. It was always this way between us. Laurent was the quicker, faster thinker, and I was forever scrambling to keep up.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, resenting the fact that I had to.

He drifted closer, his silver gaze alight with mischief. “The brothers are forbidden to take wives. All those men living in a pair of big, round towers just brimming with phallic energy. It’s not hard to imagine how they pass the time. I have a sense for these things, and I believe Brother Jordan prefers males who are a bit…top heavy.”

I grunted—and tried to ignore how his words affected me. It amused him to be filthy, but I wasn’t in the mood to entertain. “What’s the less obvious reason?”

“He has an interest in researching vampire families rumored to have elven blood.”

Gods. “And you thought it was a good idea to let someone from the Brotherhood come here? He could be a spy.”

“He was released from his position under less than favorable circumstances. Technically, he’s not even a brother anymore. He has no loyalty to Sithistra.”

“Is that what he told you?” Frustration built, as it always did when we spoke of our southern neighbor. “You so badly want to torment Rolund you’re willing to invite vipers into your court. This obsession with crushing the humans is a weakness, Laurent. Did it ever occur to you that Rolund might exploit it?”

Now both dark brows went up. “Bold words, General. Are you sure you want to call me weak?”

The anger that had been simmering in my veins all day reached a boil. “There are a lot of things I want to call you right now.”

“Don’t let me stop you.”

“You’re an asshole.” I turned and started for the stairs.

In a blink, he was in front of me, blocking my path. “We’re not finished here.”

“Yes, we are,” I snarled. My arm shot out, and I spun us around before he could react. The tight rein I’d kept on my temper snapped. I bore down on him, getting in his face and backing him up. He wasn’t a small male, but I was a lot bigger. Centuries of breeding ensured it. “What happened to watching each other’s backs? Rolund could have put an arrow in mine today.”

“He doesn’t have the balls to do that.”

I continued crowding Laurent, the metal-on-metal shifting of my armor loud in the quiet room. “Easy for you to say when you’re playing footsie with some brother in the palace. You broke a treaty and five centuries of tradition and didn’t even ask me what I thought about it. You sent me to the Rift with a fucking note. No explanation, no discussion.”

“I gave you an order,” he said, stumbling against the bed’s footboard. His breathing picked up, and a wild light danced in his eyes. His fangs showed between his lips. “That’s how it works, General. I give the orders. You follow them.”

Before I realized what I was doing, I had him across the room and pinned against the wall. I pressed my forearm across his throat and leaned into him, using my superior height and strength to keep him in place. I bared my fangs. “Oh, that’s not at all how it works between us. Maybe I should remind you.”

Silver eyes taunted me even as he struggled for breath. “I could have your head for this.”

I loosened my grip, my gaze locked on his mouth. “Fuck you,” I muttered, then crashed my lips to his.

Our kiss was hot and unhinged, an aggressive tangle of tongues and fangs. I speared my fingers through his hair and held his head in place while I plundered his mouth. He smelled so fucking good, like cinnamon and the spicy herbs his servants sprinkled on top of his bath. He tasted even better, which made me hard—and angry. I tightened my fists in his hair, using my grip to keep him where I wanted him.

He gave as good as he got, sucking on my tongue and biting at my lips. His fang scraped my sensitive flesh, sending a shot of my own blood down my throat. He must have gotten some, too, because he groaned and tried to deepen the kiss.

I shoved him harder against the wall, forcing a grunt from his chest as I denied him control. I stroked deep, curling my tongue around the bar in his. He pushed his hips against mine and moaned. Anger spiked along with my lust. I didn’t want his pleasure. I wanted to punish him—to make him hurt the way he’d hurt me. But to do that I’d have to stop kissing him, and I couldn’t just yet. Not with his taste in my mouth and his scent in my lungs.

His hand moved between us, unlacing my pants and freeing my cock. The second his warm palm closed around my rigid flesh, fiery pleasure seared my veins.

My hips thrust forward, and I ground against him, feeling the outline of his hard cock as I ravaged his mouth. But even Laurent had to come up for air sometime. With strength borne of desperation, he shoved me away. When I came right back, he slapped a hand on my breastplate to hold me at bay. He squeezed my dick with his other hand, then stroked up and down my length, working me with sensual skill that threatened to make my eyes roll back in my head. His silver eyes glittered. Blood dotted his lip. I wasn’t sure if it was mine or his.

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