Page 62 of Colin

They’d waited until just about two in the morning—when the bars were closing—to come out for their hunt; they always got more foot traffic that time of night. Plus, people were often tipsy, not paying as close attention to their surroundings. They just had to be careful they didn’t catch someone too tipsy and get themselves drunk off their alcohol-laden blood in the meantime.

It wasn’t long before a woman looking to be somewhere in her thirties approached the sidewalk in front of their house. She was alone, her eyes on her phone even as she walked steadily forward.

Fox was off the porch and in front of her faster than the human eye could track, and Dane heard a little catch of Colin’s breath, followed by a whispered, “Whoa.”

Dane half listened to the sounds of Fox compelling the girl, telling her not to be afraid, to follow him to the porch. Usually Dane would be all about it, living vicariously through Fox’s hunt before it was his turn.

Sometimes it was almost as if he could taste the blood in his brother’s mouth.

But now Dane was more focused on the feel of the man in his arms, as Colin shifted on Dane’s lap, leaning forward as far as he could in his hold, as if afraid to miss even a moment of what was happening in front of him.

Colin leaned back again as Fox rejoined them on the swing, the compelled woman standing in front of him. She smelled like expensive perfume, subtle enough to be pleasant, but it had nothing on Colin’s fresh desert scent. Fox grabbed her wrist and brought it to his face. From the street, if anyone even cared to look over, it would appear to be nothing more than a man nuzzling his head into his girlfriend’s hand.

There was a moment of eye contact from his brother before he bit in, and Dane understood the wordless message:Don’t give him a chance to get jealous.

So with the flash of Fox’s fangs, Dane bit in as well, into Colin’s soft, supple neck. He was rewarded with a gasp, Colin’s body tensing and relaxing again in the next second, melting into Dane’s hold.

Fuck, he tasted good. Like nothing else. It made Dane’s devil purr.

He was only allowing the smallest trickle of blood to enter his mouth, more than anything just resting his fangs inside Colin, keeping them warm. But it was enough for Colin, responsive as he was. Dane could tell his eyes were on Fox, watching him drinkhis fill from the woman he’d chosen, but there was a sensual lethargy to him—he was feeling the bite.

Fox was drinking perfunctorily, and while his chosen victim’s breaths were coming in fast, she wasn’t, as Fox had so eloquently put it, “coming in her pants.” In the past, Dane knew, Fox might have prolonged things. He might have flirted and toyed with his prey, upping the pleasure of it all, the enticing feel of the chase.

But what was the point when they had the most delectable human to be found already within their grasp?

Colin had been made to feel inadequate before—by someone too selfish and stupid to recognize his worth—and neither Fox nor Dane was ever going to make that same mistake.

Fox finished his feed in minutes, and Dane released his own bite in time with his, licking it closed to the sweet sound of Colin’s soft sighs.

Fox sent the woman on her way.

“How was it?” Colin’s question came out breathy. He was heavy against Dane’s chest, his body practically boneless.

“Fine.” Fox smacked his lips. “Bland but nutritious.”

Colin cocked a brow. “You just described oatmeal.”

“Dane’s turn.” Fox leaned in, making obnoxious grabby hands at them. “Give me that.”

“I am not athat,” Colin protested, even as he let himself be handed over.

Dane waited for his own meal impatiently. It was another ten minutes or so before a middle-aged man came by, smelling of whiskey but walking steadily enough.

Perfect.

Dane let his devil out and swept in front of him, cutting him off from his path. After Dane caught his eye, it only took a moment to lure him to the porch with the aid of compulsion.

When the man was in front of him on the swing, blocking Dane from view, Dane bit into the crook of his elbow, listening forColin’s soft moan as Fox mirrored him, and wasn’t it the funniest thing? It was that his devil focused on—the sound of Colin getting his bite—more than the rich blood filling their mouth.

The man wasn’t nearly as delicious as Colin, anyway. But it was satisfying to fill his stomach for once. Dane drank as much as he dared before letting the man go, ignoring Fox’s derisive snort when he added the instruction for him to drink enough water when he got home. So what? He didn’t want some human passing out because he was careless.

He hummed, licking a few stray drops of blood off his lips. It wasn’t until he tried leaning back against the swing and miscalculated the distance that he realized how lightheaded he suddenly was.

“Damn,” he muttered, scooting back until he hit wood.

Fox laughed. “Oh shit.”

“What?” Colin sounded dazed and sleepy, and the combination had Dane’s cock filling—it was exactly what Colin sounded like when he was turned the fuck on.

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