Squashed between a pair of muscular men could be the start of a nightmare, or if he were in a warped mood, like he found himself in a lot lately, a perfect dream.

Unfortunately, it was the former.

The animosity in the air nearly choked him as he sat in the wooden chair, its high back preventing him from easily escaping, with Kenneth on his right and Lucas to his left. He risked a wary glance and saw that Kenneth was gripping his beer tightly in tandem with his fingers, which were digging bruises into Reid's thigh underneath the table.

Kenneth had discovered Lucas's palm resting on Reid's knee. It was like the guy had a sixth sense because Reid was going to move it off, even though the touch hadn't been lascivious, set there to quell the restless tapping of Reid's foot, but Kenneth had been quicker.

Now resting on the table, Lucas's fingers looked intact but had to be in pain. He'd had his thumb twisted harshly enough to hiss air through his teeth. For reasons Reid couldn't understand, Kenneth was apparently staking his claim by leaving Reid's poor, trembling leg black and blue.

"Ow," Reid gasped, unable to endure any longer. He gripped the bruising fingers, and the touch seemed to rouse Kenneth from whatever stupor he'd fallen into, green eyes widening slightly.

Removing his hand, Kenneth brought his beer to his lips. "Sorry," he grumbled.

Milton had an elbow resting on the back of his chair, his fingers gripping his half-full beer. "The coin that we acquired from Alma turns out to have not been a password into the Crystal at all." He picked at the bottle's peeling label absently. "I am certain that Alma never truly journeyed to Shadow Peaks. Azrael wanted us to obtain the information we had. He has been pushing us toward his end. Besides the obvious, I don't know what his intentions may be. But even if we must go in blind, we have no other leads."

Taking a generous swig of his beer, Henrik snorted. He was a muscular guy, and Reid wondered if that extended to his wolf form. Would Henrik have massive wolf biceps and toned thighs? Reid had briefly seen Henrik in action at the auction, but the werewolf had been covered in blood and ripping vampires limb from limb.

"So," Henrik said, setting his beer on a round coaster. "The numbers here..." He tapped the tabletop near where the golden coin with the numbers 11-55 inlaid in the middle lay. "You believe they'll lead to where, exactly?"

Reid gingerly reached out, sliding Lucas's finished beer closer. He picked up a coaster and put it underneath because everyone else had done it. Ignoring Kenneth's curious look, probably making sure he didn't begin licking the remnants of alcohol from the rim, he began scraping at the label with his fingernail.

Focusing on the task made the shiver of dread from where this conversation was heading ascend his spine without the familiar nausea that had accompanied it since they had uncovered the chilling truth a month ago.

"A town," Milton said.

"And you came to this conclusion, how?"

"Reid received a text message with a name: Calmar's Bluff. It's a small town in the Eastern Mountains. I would never have put the two together otherwise. We believe the message was from Azrael, pushing us along the path he desires. The town is famous for one thing: it's reliquary."

"It could be a trap," Henrik said grimly.

"Undoubtedly," Milton replied. "But we have no other leads. This reliquary doesn't house relics of religious value. Mostly personal items. It's essentially a tourist attraction for those visiting the nearby rock mines. Think of a safety deposit vault in a bank, if you will, with a box to fill and security to ensure the wrong hands don't touch it." He gave a fleeting glance at Kenneth. "We'll be heading there tomorrow to try to uncover what Azrael is so keen on us finding."

The bar was relatively full, but quiet. Men and women wearing black leather jackets with wolf decals. He recognized Farkas, the werewolf who had tried to distract him during the cage fight, and the other werewolf who had watched from the bench, Conner, talking near the glossy wood bar, drinking and laughing. Someone had left a window open, and the smell of autumn air drifted inside, mixing with the scent of alcohol and cigarette smoke.

The voices in his mind whispered, 'They have numbers.'

Yeah, Reid answered. I can count at least thirty in this bar alone.

'An alliance will be beneficial.'

That's the plan, he thought back bitterly.

'But do not forget, our king. They are beneath you. In your new world, they will be collared or face death. Letting them perish in Shadow Peaks will ensure your power.'

"Shut up," Reid whispered harshly. "And I'm not your king. This isn't a fantasy movie. Stop saying that. Maybe, like, a president or something." He shook his head. "Whatever the modern equivalent of a king is. Get with the times."

Shit.

He hadn't meant to say that aloud.

Fortunately, no one appeared to have heard. Reid sank into his chair, sick to his stomach. He just wanted his mind to be quiet for more than a few days. The pain only silenced them for a small stretch of time.

Enough to give him a breath of relief, but they always seemed to wake too soon.

'President,' the voices sang.

Reid groaned.

Elbow resting against the table and his cheek braced in his palm, Lucas gave him a curious glance. Lucas had only had two beers, so his visible exhaustion must not be from drinking. The man had seemed off for the last month or so. Sometimes, he'd be Lucas, cocky and affectionate. At other times, he was cold and distant.

He was a hard man to read.

Reid smiled, flashing his fangs and trying to play off the slip-up. It must work, because Lucas winked, grinning a little. And now Reid was dealing with more than just voices keen on having him take over the world like a supervillain. His heart was pounding against his chest, and his face was heating up.

He slapped his palms over his cheeks, glaring.

Lucas's grin faltered.

"What are you doing?" Kenneth whispered near Reid's ear.

He was hiding his blush.

It would take some time to forget the feel of Lucas's lips on his own.

"Nothing," Reid murmured, dropping his hands to his lap.

He stared straight ahead at the shelves of alcohol behind the bar, his gaze tracing the orange gleam of the dim lights bouncing off the hung mirror there.

Henrik and Milton were talking about Milton's return. They were getting philosophical about the beyond and what happened after death. Lucas and Kenneth appeared to have lost interest in the conversation after Henrik pledged the Southside werewolves to their fight against Azrael and his cult.

The only thing Henrik wanted in return for his aid was a promise to save the werewolves that Azrael had taken. That was an easy yes. They would do everything possible to save the people Azrael had kidnapped.

"Oh, shit."

Reid glanced over his shoulder. Then, up and up at the tall man who was shadowing him.

Aaron somehow entered the bar and strolled up to them without Reid noticing. He did that sometimes, slipping from reality for minutes at a time.

The werewolf wore a ball cap that covered his black hair. After hanging around Sterling, Reid had thought the guy had a lot of piercings, but Aaron put Sterling's ears to shame. He looked like he walked into a piercing shop and asked for everything possible.

Not that he looked bad with all the metal in his face—the opposite. But his piercings were intimidating, like Lucas's tattoos. Reid also had firsthand knowledge that Aaron had his nipples pierced.

So, it made him wonder how much further Aaron's obsession went.

How much lower?

He decided he didn't want to contemplate it. The idea of getting pierced there made his stomach flip uncomfortably.

Aaron grinned. "Dope." His amber eyes shone with a touch of wildness, and they were fixed on Reid's hair. "Looks good. I nearly didn't recognize you."

He had forgotten about his hair. He hated it. But everyone else kept complimenting him on the black dye that probably ruined his natural color forever. But he would take that sacrifice. He had been able to touch Rowan again now that he was constantly thinking about how similar he looked to Eliot.

He'd been getting to know his little spitfire the last few months. He'd let her in and told her about his past. Loving her had begun to quiet the voices. They were still loud, but not as oppressive. Being with Rowan made him feel so human that he nearly forgot about his fangs.

That was until she bared her pretty neck and begged him to bite her.

Yeah. She liked when he took his blood so much she'd plead for him in a hot, raspy voice to take her. His perpetual hard-on hadn't ceased, but he had plenty of time to deal with it. Rowan was insatiable. Once he'd promised himself to her and made what they had been doing official, she'd been jumping him every moment they had alone.

He loved her so much.

But Lucas, seeing him every day, hearing his voice, smelling his cologne. It was difficult to resist the feeling of loss. He only realized how much he cared for Lucas once he could no longer have him.

However, he'd begun to cherish their friendship, just like he did with Kenneth's. Reid hoped he and Lucas could share a similar bond one day.

Months ago, he'd spoken to Lucas and told the man that he wanted to give what he and Rowan had a real shot.

He'd kept a chair between them and had been ready to flee the moment Lucas and his sexy grin tried anything.

Reid was committed to controlling his impulses, and staying faithful.

But that didn't mean he wasn't tempted.

And Lucas was his temptation.

The man knew it, too. Lucas had been understanding, weirdly so, and told him to try it with her if it made him happy. As Reid's friend, Lucas had said, he was happy for him.

Then Lucas asked if he could suck him off.

So, they probably weren't on the same page.

But Lucas had laughed afterward, so maybe it was just a friendly poke at him, but that didn't mean Reid hadn't gone red in the face.

The headache of a conversation had ended with him bleeding.

Not because of Lucas. Afterward, Reid went to the shed and cut himself until the voices quieted. They became loud when he was tempted, or his urges rose. So, he sated them with pain, his own, because he wouldn't feed them with the suffering of others, even though he knew they'd sing in ecstasy if he did.

Did guilt eat at him?

Every day. For lying. He didn't make the mistake of not drinking enough blood to heal his self-inflicted injuries again. Kenneth checked him daily, ripping at his clothing. Reid always laughed, enjoying the attention, but also struggled to hide his misery. In a way, he wanted Kenneth to see the cuts that healed, to hold him, and to tell him there was another way to keep his sanity.

But Reid knew there wasn't.

For now, he'd carry this burden.

But not alone.

Rowan knew about his addiction to the pain. She didn't like that he needed to hurt himself to quiet the whispers, but she understood. She supported him afterwards, held him, talked to him with soft murmurs, and gave him her blood to heal him. The pain never lingered long enough to become a burden.

Not with her.

He couldn't bring himself to tell Kenneth. Their argument in the bedroom months ago still felt fresh.

When he'd seen the hurt on Kenneth's face that night, he'd wanted to vomit all over the sheets. Reid hadn't understood what he had done wrong besides the cutting until he talked to Milton a few weeks ago.

The conversation still pinballed in his mind. Milton had told him that Kenneth was bad with feelings. No surprise. But he also said that Kenneth was jealous. Milton claimed he'd seen it before when Reid had gone to that private school and made a few fair-weather friends.

Apparently, Kenneth had been growly then, too.

In a weak part of himself, he liked that Kenneth was possessive of him. Even if the man didn't realize his feelings, it was nice to be wanted beyond logic. Because when it came to Kenneth, he felt the same.

"Thanks," Reid replied to Aaron's compliment, touching his hair.

He frowned when he noticed Kenneth glaring at Aaron. And no surprise, when Reid glanced to his left, Lucas was wearing the cold expression of a man readying himself to commit murder.

He gripped the back of his chair and looked up at Aaron. "Looks like you're going to be fighting with us come winter. Ready to kick some vampire butt?"

"No shit?" Aaron replied, sipping his beer. "It's not your butt, right?" He smirked. "Already did that. I could be persuaded to have another tumble, though. Fewer clothes this time."

Reid laughed nervously.

"Want to die, fucker?" Kenneth growled.

Aaron looked taken aback. He asked Reid, "Is he your boyfriend?"

Without looking away from Aaron, smile straining, Reid slapped a palm on Kenneth's bicep, keeping him from rising. And luckily, he had two hands because he could do the same to Lucas.

His strength came in handy sometimes.

Reid laughed nervously. "Thanks for the offer, but I've got my hands full with these two. Big. Homicidal men. Who don't share nicely with others."

Was he clear enough?

Milton sputtered, choking on his beer.

"I can see that," Aaron replied, unimpressed, his amber gaze flickering between Kenneth and Lucas. He was either dense or didn't care that two mages over six feet tall with enough muscle to ruin him two times over were plotting his death. They were only held at bay because Reid had enough supernatural strength to keep them pinned.

"If we're making an alliance," Aaron said. "We've got to spill some blood." He brought his beer to his smiling lips, gaze on Henrik. "Right, Dad?"

Kenneth shoved Reid's hand off with a scoff. Lucas snatched Reid's fingers from his bicep and made to push him away but didn't, covertly dragging Reid's hand onto his lap, hidden by the table.

Reid's heart leapt, and he took his hand back without meeting Lucas's gaze.

Henrik chuckled, and Aaron followed his father, laughing gruffly. They all looked at the werewolf alpha, sitting in his chair lazily. "It's tradition." He gave Milton a wary look and a slow-rising grin. "Come on, Milton. You've spilled blood with us many times."

"When I didn't have a choice," Milton muttered, bringing his beer to his frowning mouth. He took a generous swig. His voice was raspy when he added, "We don't have time to wait until tonight for a cage fight."

Reid groaned. "Not another fight."

"Don't sell yourself short," Aaron said, placing a palm on Reid's head to pull Reid's gaze back to him.

If the werewolf were sane, he'd be fleeing, not poking the two bears on either side of Reid, who were meeting each other's eyes now, talking without words, apparently forgetting their animosity.

"You're sort of famous around here," Aaron explained, dropping his hand. "Everyone worth a damn here wants to get in the cage with you. We've never had a vampire in the ring—for obvious reasons. You put up a good fight. Seriously, I thought I was going to squash you. I wanted to, but you left me bloody."

The praise brought a pleasant flutter to his stomach. He would probably have conjured more than a strained smile if he didn't smell the rising anger spicing the air. "So, who's fighting?"

"I'll fight," Aaron offered. "I haven't been in the ring for a while. I should be good for a few rounds." He winked at Reid. "Are you sure you don't want to be on top again?"

Reid patted Lucas's thigh and felt the touch quell some of Lucas's tension. But Reid didn't have a chance to subdue Kenneth.

The man was out of his chair before Milton's hand, which was reaching out to grab his shoulder, made contact.

"Kane," Milton reprimanded tiredly.

"I warned you," Kenneth growled in his menacing voice. He shadowed Aaron, and the werewolf hurried to back up, smirk faltering. They may be nearly the same height, but the aura of violence Kenneth exuded when he was in murder mode would make anyone look meeker than a rabbit caught in a trap.

Or a wolf about to be ripped apart.

Milton didn't make any effort to stop Kenneth from fisting Aaron's shirt and dragging him close, teeth set in a snarl. He gave Henrik a wary look as if to say, 'Boys,' and sipped his beer. The werewolf alpha was watching the exchange but didn't seem to be overly offended that his son was being threatened in his midst.

"Leave him alone," Kenneth snarled, "or I'll kick your fucking teeth in."

Sliding deeper into his chair, Reid wished the world could be swallowed up. The only reason he didn't slip onto the floor was that Lucas was holding his hand tightly, focused entirely on the near scuffle, probably not noticing he was making Reid's fingers numb.

This was humiliating.

Everyone in the bar was watching.

"I only let you live last time," Kenneth said darkly, "because we made a deal for information. But don't think for a minute that I've forgotten that shit."

Aaron smiled, strained. His amber eyes were aglow. "Sure. Yeah. I didn't mean to step on your toes, man." A harsh shove from Kenneth sent him stumbling back, and his lower back hit a table, jostling it.

Kenneth scoffed and glanced at Henrik, chest heaving. "I'll fight." He tossed a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing to Aaron, who had recovered and begun drinking his sloshed beer. "If it's against this asshole."

"No way am I fighting him," Aaron rasped, setting his beer down. He quickly apologized to the men sitting behind him, having ruined their card game when he'd been thrown into their table.

When Aaron turned back, Henrik gave his son an unimpressed scoff. "He's not much bigger than Farkas." He nodded toward Milton, who was focused on drinking the rest of his beer. "He's a friend. You're not turning this fight down."

Aaron looked pale. "You've heard the rumors."

The urge to snicker was nearly overwhelming. Reid had almost forgotten about those rumors. They morphed and changed, but mostly, they were lies that Kenneth was some unbeatable killing machine. Some were true, but Reid had stitched and bandaged the man up uncountable times after he'd been in a fight. Kenneth bled, like everyone else.

"Start showing up to work on time," Henrik snapped, "and I'll think about giving a shit."

Outstretching his arms with a dramatic flourish, Aaron said loudly, "My father, everyone." His gaze swept the bar, smirking. "Guess I'm fighting Kenneth Rainer."

Claps resounded around the bar, along with a few jeers and some laughs.

"I hope you have another son hidden somewhere," Aaron said to his father, "because you're about to lose your legacy." He grinned, but his gaze wasn't amused, luminous with angry wildness.

Henrik scoffed. "He won't kill you."

"I'll fight him."

Lucas shrugged when all eyes turned to him. He met Milton's gaze, and the slight panic Reid saw in Milton's eyes caused Reid's heart to race.

Was this bad? No. It was good, right? Kenneth would have left Aaron in a bloody heap. The man was raging, and anyone unlucky enough to be at the end of his ire when he was in this mood would regret their lives.

But it all came together when he saw that Lucas's gaze wasn't on Aaron but on Kenneth.

No way.

Aaron laughed. "Now that's interesting."

"Hey," Reid said, looking up at Kenneth and then back to Lucas. The pair were glaring at each other. If Reid had flipped open a lighter right now, the flame would have caught on how much hatred was sparking in the air. "You're joking, right?" He felt ill. "Fighting each other is stupid."

"No," Kenneth said, smiling at Lucas menacingly. "I've got some shit I need to say to him."

"With your fist?" Reid whispered harshly.

"Henrik," Milton said, gripping his beer. "Will that suffice?" He wasn't seriously going to endorse this madness, was he?

Henrik shrugged. "They can fight. It doesn't matter whose blood is spilled. We'll do it now. It'll be..." He looked around the bar and found everyone was watching them with rapt attention. He turned back to Milton and smiled. "A small crowd."

Reid leaned closer to Lucas. "I'm asking you not to do this."

Lucas's eyebrows rose slightly. They stared at each other as the others detailed the brawl rules. No magic and no weapons.

Milton grabbed Kenneth's arm and began lecturing him on a clean fight.

Taking advantage of Kenneth's diverted attention, Lucas invaded Reid's space, whispering near his ear, "If he doesn't get this out, he's going to blow."

Reid risked a glance at Kenneth. The man was glaring at Lucas, jaw clenched, probably not hearing a word Milton was saying. Reid strained a smile and gave a lame wave to the man. Kenneth's reply was a deeper glare, and Reid swore it was so fiery he could feel flames touching his skin.

"Okay," Reid conceded quietly.

He met Lucas's gaze; they were too close, breathing on each other. But neither of them moved away. He noticed a flicker in Lucas's gaze that he'd grown accustomed to these last few months: worrying coldness.

Reid sighed. "But why are you agreeing to get beaten up?"

Lucas grinned. "Don't believe I'll beat him, huh?"

Honestly, he didn't know. Kenneth and Lucas were brutal in a fight, but against each other, he had never contemplated who would be victorious. He hadn't wanted to.

"Either way," Reid whispered, frowning. "You'll get hurt."

Gaze gentling, Lucas said quietly, "Then, after he punches me a few times, maybe he'll relax. I don't mind being his outlet, if that's what it takes." He must have noticed Reid's hesitation because he whispered, "I'm good, love."

Under the table, Lucas's fingers found Reid's hand, squeezing. "Won't be the first time I've been punched. Cheer for me, yeah?"

There was that coldness in Lucas's eyes again.

What was the man hiding?

Giving a slight tug to reclaim his hand, Reid whispered, "What's—"

"Ready to get your ass kicked?" Kenneth interrupted.

Lucas met Kenneth's gaze and smirked. His fingers entangled Reid's, ignoring how stiff Reid had become. "Have I ever told you you're cocky as hell, mate?"

"No," Kenneth replied huskily. "I'm confident."

The sparkle of mirth in Lucas's gaze should have been the tip-off, but Reid was spiraling, emotions hitting him that he didn't want to deal with, not right now. Before Reid could stop what was happening, Lucas had lifted their entangled hands and laid them on the table.

Reid snatched his fingers back faster than if they had been burned, but it was too late. Kenneth had seen, and the look he gave Reid made him wish he were dead: anger and, most painfully, deep hurt.

He really wanted the world to swallow him whole now.