"Fuck."

"Yeah," Alexander muttered, scratching inside the wound with medical tweezers. The rising pain in his shoulder had begun to slice Kiernan's head with a throbbing ache. "I don't know if I can get the bullet out like this. It's deep."

Kiernan laid his sweaty forehead on the couch's armrest. "Keep trying."

He dealt with the pain silently. He'd trained himself to remain stoic at his most vulnerable. It wasn't difficult. He didn't show emotion normally, anyway. He'd been doing fine so far, for the last hour or so, that Alexander shoved metal into his wound and stopped his healing over and over again.

He was fine until his watering gaze flickered to his phone, which he'd left on a small table beside a shaded lamp and his holstered gun. 

They had escaped the agent's attempt on his life, defeated Azrael's cultists, discovered the magic dampener in the book the agent had pretended to read upon his arrival, and just before they left the shop, his phone vibrated.

It'd been Gabriel.

"Alexander."

"Hm?"

"Tie me."

Through the bond, he felt a wave of Alexander's worry.

Even so, he wasn't protested verbally, and soon, his wrists were held together by Alexander's belt, and his fingers were clenched into fists tight enough for his knuckles to become numb.

"Are you sure?"

Kiernan nodded. "I don't want to hurt you. It's safer."

"Alright," Alexander said tightly.

The pain was tenfold, and he gasped, hating the pathetic noise the moment it escaped. He was kept still by a hand against the side of his head. The tweezers delved so deep he swore he could taste the metal in his mouth, bitter and tangy. 

He panted through the agony, his hazy gaze flickering up.

His phone sat on that glossy table, mocking him with what he knew would be there, linked to that damning text message.

He felt a sweat break out on his skin. He pulled against the belt, breath coming so quick he could hardly fill his lungs before he was taking another.

Alexander must have felt the shift through their bond because he hooked his leg around Kiernan's, pinning his shin to the couch.

The sensation of being unable to move, fight, had Kiernan letting loose a noise of despair, muffled against the couch's armrest.

"No," Alexander soothed. "None of that."

Kiernan had heard men die, and the sound he made was akin to that anguish. Through his bond with Alexander, he felt a wave of misery that broke through the cloud of panic that was strangling him into insanity.

"Kiernan..."

He lifted his head away from the couch. "Get the fucking bullet out, Alexander!"

His body jerked, the pain sharp enough to sting his eyes with involuntary tears. 

Then, the tweezers left his wound.

Kiernan sagged, breathing heavily.

Fingers gripped his hair. The leather of the belt bit the skin of his wrists. If anyone else had their hand pinning his head, he'd have fought ferally.

Even so, his heart, which had begun to calm quickened. Alexander wasn't moving.

"Is it finished?" Kiernan rasped.

He turned his head, watching Alexander lean towards the low coffee table and place the medical tweezers down. A bloody bullet rolled across the glossy wood.

Kiernan's tension left, relieved.

Then his adrenaline raced back with a vengeance when Alexander whispered gruffly, "Tell me what happened."

"I was shot."

"You haven't freaked like that for over a decade. Why now?"

Kiernan's chest rose faster. "Let me go."

"Talk to me. What happened?"

"I was shot, you fucking cretin!"

Alexander flinched, not expecting to be shouted at evidently. He didn't raise his hand from Kiernan's head, pressing harder. "Relax."

"Untie me," Kiernan growled.

"Not until you tell me what's going on," Alexander said harshly. "You'll just run off and hide somewhere. I'm not watching you kill yourself slowly, keeping everything inside. If I have to hold you here until you talk to me, I will."

"I'll break your belt."

"No, you won't. It's Italian leather."

Kiernan snarled, fighting to slide his hands out from the belt without breaking it outright. But he would if Alexander didn't stop toying with him.

He was flipped and felt a jolt of pain from his hands crushed beneath him. His wound, which was healing slowly, was bleeding sluggishly, and the position he'd been, slumped, had caused his blood to drip down his arm to his elbow.

"Bastard," he snarled.

He lifted his foot to deliver Alexander a kick that would've toppled the man off the couch, but his ankle was grasped by a large hand.

"I could tie your legs up."

"Try it," Kiernan growled, yanking his leg from Alexander's grasp.

Alexander scoffed, smiling in that infuriatingly handsome way that softened Kiernan's heart because he was a fool. His gaze flickered to the blood, leaving a warm trail down Kiernan's arm and bare chest and dampening the waistband of his jeans.

His heart sped up. Through their bond, he could sense Alexander's hunger rising. He saw the way the man's eyes darkened otherworldly. He didn't have it in himself to deny what was being asked for without words.

In truth, he wanted it just as much.

Alexander grinned wickedly. "Then, I'll busy myself until you stop being difficult."

A large hand came to rest on the curve of his neck. The touch had his pulse racing. He was acting like prey but couldn't stifle his reactions.

Alexander began closing in on him with dark, ravenous eyes.

"Untie me," Kiernan rasped, but despite his protest, he bared his neck for the fangs to pierce familiarly.

His body shuddered so intensely that Alexander's arm came around his shoulders, holding him still.

He submitted to dying slowly.

It wasn't usually a comforting feeling to have blood taken. But Alexander was gentle. He never demanded sensation. But he was no less dangerous; his bite made the world spin, mind-numbing. Subduing Kiernan in a way that no one else ever had. He let the haze clouding his thoughts take over.

He should have known better.

The moment his eyes began to shut, giving in, Alexander pulled away, wiping the blood sheening his lips with a fingertip, which he slid into his mouth to lick away.

The flush to Alexander's cheeks was from the stolen blood, not the humiliation Kiernan's warmed from. The man didn't know the word.

Alexander noticed Kiernan's gaze flickering to his mouth, his fangs, and smirked knowingly.

"Here," Alexander murmured, lifting his wrist.

Glaring, Kiernan parted his lips and bit purposefully hard. 

He didn't let up until Alexander's expression twisted with pain. Guilt fell heavily over him, and he was gentle as he took the offered blood awkwardly without the use of his hands.

"I should keep you like this," Alexander said, breathless, laying a large hand on Kiernan's head. "I won't have to worry about you anymore."

Kiernan pulled away from the bloody wrist, resisting the urge to lick the bite, and glared. "I will kill you."

"See, tied up, your threats hold little weight. It's nice." Alexander patted his head with a fond smile.

The brute was lucky that Kiernan was foolishly fond of him, or he'd have broken this belt, the price tag be damned, and beaten the smugness from the man's face with a fist.

"Untie me," Kiernan growled, "or I'll drown you."

Alexander's grin widened, retaking his hand. "In the bathtub?"

"In the toilet, you imbecile."

Alexander laughed. "I'll untie you. If you tell me what you're hiding."

"I'm not hiding anything," Kiernan growled, but his anger wasn't able to truly rouse, not when he was breathing heavily and terribly lightheaded.

"I can feel you at night." Alexander stared, and Kiernan had to resist the urge to cower. Somehow, Alexander always managed to make him feel like a fumbling boy. It was irritating. "You haven't woken up like that for over a decade."

Kiernan glared. "Your wife threatened your balls if you bit me again. Your obsession with me has made her jealous. Shouldn't you be worrying about your marriage?"

Alexander winced. "We talked."

"Your voice is quite deep for a man without balls. Impressive."

"She understands."

"That you're an addict? How sweet of her."

"That you need me."

"I don't need you," Kiernan lied, glaring.

Soft fingertips found Kiernan's jaw, moving down to the bite that bled sluggishly. The assessing touch caused a sharp pain that wasn't entirely unpleasant.

Alexander wasn't the only one addicted, and they both knew it. Neither could hide anything from the other.

Their connection had grown more profound after spending years doing nothing to stifle their bond of blood. If one of them died, Kiernan feared the other wouldn't survive.

"If you won't talk to me," Alexander said. "Then you can talk to your wife."

Kiernan wasn't a man who felt fear easily, but his bubbling panic at the moment came close. "No," he growled, sitting up the best he could without using his hands when Alexander rose from the couch and cocked an eyebrow at him. "If you dare... I will never give you blood again."

Alexander laughed. "We'll see."

"We won't see," Kiernan whispered. "It won't happen again. I swear it."

Kiernan's gaze flickered to the door, holding his breath.

Any minute now, Gianna would come dancing in with her pretty smile and rip him apart, literally and figuratively, until he told her everything.

And he would.

He'd been running from her for twenty years to ensure that didn't happen.

Their marriage might be unconventional, as in nonexistent, but it'd be over in a heartbeat if she knew the man he truly was. She was one of the only people he'd managed to keep his past hidden from.

Even Rainer had seen him at his lowest during that spell.

Because he was an imp in the body of a brute, Alexander's fingers found Kiernan's hair, forcing his head back. The smile that rose on Alexander's face was warm and wholly irritating. He could feel how unresistant Kiernan was to having his neck arched vulnerably.

"There's nothing to talk about," Kiernan rasped, glaring. He began to rethink his reasons for not killing Alexander Cross when the man didn't do anything except stare at him intensely. 

He broke out in a sweat, the vulnerability of his bound hands and the pitiful position giving him an onslaught of memories he'd rather forget.

Alexander's fingers slid from Kiernan's hair to his cheek. "You were with me, and then you were gone. I didn't know what happened. I knew you weren't dead, but I questioned. I can't feel you when you're far away. Do you know what that did to me? What if you had died and I didn't know?"

"You'd know." Kiernan exhaled shakily. The pain of Mercalli dying was agony. He never wanted Alexander to suffer like that.

"I thought I lost you."

"Careful, your wife will claim you're in love with me again. Then we won't be allowed to have play dates."

"I do love you."

"Don't tell her that," Kiernan muttered. "You may enjoy the risk, but I'm partial to keeping my balls."

Alexander snorted fondly and, finally, stopped his desperate attempt at domination and removed the belt from Kiernan's wrists.

Kiernan rose and laid a palm over the gunshot wound that was healing, albeit slowly, trying to localize the bleeding to the planks and not the grey carpet.

The entire attic had been renovated. Sometimes, Gianna stayed in the bedroom with its en-suite bathroom. She used to paint, but by the window facing the yard, her easels and supplies were in a corner, collecting years of dust.

"I'm here now, Alexander," Kiernan said. "Let's not wallow in the past."

"Don't do that," Alexander pleaded, following Kiernan closely as he walked away. "Don't push me away. What happened with Gabriel..." Alexander fastened his belt. "We need to talk about it."

Walking into the bedroom, the sheets were a mess. Usually, it was one side crumpled, but he'd negotiated for Alexander in trade with Micio. He'd enjoyed not sleeping alone, not that he'd admit that without a gun to his head. Alexander had fallen asleep, fully clothed, while waiting diligently for their return. His black shirt was wrinkled, and his dark hair was mussed.

"I can handle it," Kiernan said coolly, taking a clean shirt from the top drawer of the rosewood dresser.

"Just like you handled that meeting?"

Kiernan held the satin shirt so tight he strained the plum fabric. "We have an agent of the Bureau tied up in our basement. I think that should take precedence before any of these trivial matters."

"Trivial?" Alexander scoffed, nearing. "You told me that you could handle Gabriel alone. That was a lie, and now I'm supposed to believe you can handle this?"

"What happened with Gabriel will not happen again."

Kiernan put on the shirt, the soft fabric prickling his skin unpleasantly. He'd need to shower off the blood.

Later.

He couldn't handle the water touching him while feeling this out of sorts. Clothing was nearly too much.

"Talk to me, or I'm going to think the worst."

Inhaling, Kiernan took the bottle of scotch from the dresser's second drawer. "Fine." He exhaled shakily. "Sit down."

Alexander sat on the edge of the bed. 

Sometimes, he obeyed.

Not bothering with a glass, Kiernan brought the bottle to his mouth, drinking it until his throat burned and his stomach protested.

"You never drink," Alexander remarked, frowning deeply.

Kiernan wiped his mouth with the backs of his fingers. "I need to if I'm going to indulge you and your obsession with sticking your nose in my affairs."

"You know I hate falling asleep tipsy."

Kiernan knew Alexander long enough to know the man wasn't talking about indulging in the scotch. Even if he didn't, the dark hunger present in the man's gaze spoke volumes.

"I must have forgotten offering," Kiernan said coolly. "You've had your fill."

Alexander contemplated this with dark eyes, then gruffly said, "This meeting from hell. How did Gabriel get the jump on you?"

"I knew I wouldn't come out of that meeting unscathed," Kiernan admitted, taking another swig of scotch before leaning his lower back against the dresser. "We spoke, Gabriel and I, about what had happened with the boy. And my disobedience these last few weeks. Months, he claimed. Bullshit, but who's to question him?" He stared at the rim of the bottle. "He had said I'd need to be punished."

Alexander didn't interrupt, eyes pools of angry black that promised violence.

"I refused." Kiernan grinned at the look of shock that passed Alexander's face, cutting him deeper than a rusty knife thrust into his heart.

How humiliating that everyone seemed so surprised that he grew sick of Gabriel's games. Was he that pathetic?

His expression slowly fell. "I told him to shove his punishment up his ass. I'd given enough to him—a century of loyalty. I was his only confidant who was wholly on his side. I stepped out of line, but only just. The boy would still be close to him, I'd reasoned...but it wasn't enough.

"Gabriel lost his mind. He called me a traitor. I look back now. There was nothing I could have said to calm the storm that was coming while I was unaware. He'd planned my suffering before I'd stepped foot through that door. He wanted me to be tormented. Right and wrong no longer mattered."

Kiernan inhaled, thinking over his next words carefully. He decided to end the conversation quickly. It was becoming hard to breathe. "To answer your question. His men jumped me, and I was overcome in less than a minute. I truly wasn't ready for an attack. Pain, yes. But not Dallas."

"Then?" Alexander rasped.

"Dallas whipped me until I broke."

Alexander didn't look placated. The shrewd police officer in him hadn't been washed away even in twenty long years.

Turning away, Kiernan placed the scotch on the dresser, and before facing Alexander again, he breathed deeply, trying to calm the tremble taking his fingers.

"Lucas," Kiernan said coldly, holding Alexander's intense gaze. "He's taken blood from someone?"

Alexander looked like he wanted to continue the previous conversation, lips parting. Then he must have realized Kiernan was finished talking because his shoulders slumped. He sighed tiredly. "Reid gave him some while he was passed out. He refused anymore now that he's awake."

"He's heavily injured."

"Yeah, I saw. He bled all over the hallway, kitchen, and living room. Anna's with him and tried to talk him into drinking some."

"Tell Anna to keep him alive, in pain. Let him suffer the consequences of being a cretin. If his condition worsens, send him to me. Preferably not bleeding all over my floors. I'll give him blood tomorrow morning, but do not tell him that, only Anna."

Alexander stood, frowning. "Kiernan?"

"Alexander."

"You're joking."

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

"Why? You never give anyone..."

The man might have tried to shutter his expression, but their bond ensured nothing was hidden. Anger and jealousy were present, but Kiernan didn't probe deeper. He wasn't a morsel to be fought over, and they'd learn that if either tried.

"I've been a fool and have another brute to bring to heel, that's why."

Alexander frowned, but before he could answer, the cell phone in the back pocket of his jeans vibrated. He had only taken it out and glimpsed the screen when the message that had been sent began playing without prompting.

The speakers were loud enough for strained static to be heard beneath the heated laughter that crept up his spine unpleasantly. Then, a familiar, deep baritone voice began coaxing in a sickly, gentle tone for someone to breathe. His victim had stopped moving evidently, and he didn't appreciate the lack of reaction to his torture.

Kiernan knew that the muffled screams he heard scratching inside his ears were his own, that he was the one on the screen being tormented. But he didn't feel a connection. He was apart from that pathetic man, dissociating.

The paling look that Alexander gave him was anguished, and Kiernan's heart ached fiercely. The cell phone was kept at an angle where Kiernan couldn't see what was on the screen. He sensed it was deliberate. He could only imagine the horror he would have seen otherwise.

"I'm fine," Kiernan said, breathless and dizzy.

"Fine?" Alexander rasped. He didn't stop the video—more laughter, muffled screams, and Dallas's goading filled the bedroom. But Alexander didn't look at the screen once. He was staring at Kiernan without taking a breath, waves of overwhelming rage and misery crashing through their bond.

Then, a cold realization settled.

Gabriel hadn't just sent that video to them. He'd sent it to everyone. The man must have heard that Kiernan had a meeting with the Rosewood vampire coven a few days from now.

This was Gabriel's last resort.

He destroyed Kiernan's hope of ever gaining allies.

He ensured he could never look anyone he cared about in the eyes again.

He'd never let Kiernan move on.

He'd remind him for however long they walked this earth of the man he truly was and had been since he caught Mercalli's vile gaze when he was nineteen.

With a tap of his thumb, Gabriel had won.