Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 116408 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116408 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
“Philippe?” Rafe said. He didn’t sound much better than Philippe.
He looked up to find Rafe pushing away from the wall and taking a few unsteady steps toward Rafe. His clothes were absolutely shredded. Fangs had dug into tender flesh and ripped numerous holes. Blood covered him, while what skin he could see was a sickly white.
“Rafe—”
Whatever he’d been about to say was interrupted by the arrival of Marcus. The larger man grabbed his brother, pulling him in close so that Rafe could lean on him.
“Winter?” Rafe demanded immediately when the youngest Varik didn’t appear.
“He’s going after the one with the wolves,” Marcus said. From what Philippe could see, he didn’t look too bad off. There was a little blood and bruising, but he was already healing.
“The other two vampires we sensed?” Philippe asked.
Marcus shook his head. “Destroyed. They would not be taken alive.”
“Unless Ezra can identify them, we are relying on Winter getting to the truth when he finally gets to the bastard’s hiding place,” Rafe grumbled.
“This was a fucking disaster!” Ezra snarled. Carefully placing Philippe’s arm across his shoulders, he helped Philippe to his feet, but his narrowed gaze didn’t leave Rafe’s face. “We never should have trusted the Variks. You don’t give a shit about anyone but yourselves. You couldn’t save Piper. And you’re sure as fuck not going to save any of the rest of us.”
“Ezra,” Philippe said on a sigh. He wished he could summon more energy, but the blood was still flowing out of him and he needed to feed again if he was going to heal properly. “These attacks aren’t their fault.”
“They might as well be, for as much good they’ve been,” his clanmate continued.
“It’s my fault. Not my brothers’,” Rafe said. He tried to push away from Marcus, but his brother refused to release him. “You’ve gotten stuck with the weakest of the Variks, and it’s not fair to your clan. From now on, only Marcus, Winter, and Bel will be looking into the threat to the Arsenaults.”
“No!” Philippe said, but Ezra was already talking over him.
“Fuck off! You’re all a waste of our time. If we continue to associate with you, we’re all dead.”
Marcus frowned and Philippe reluctantly met his assessing gaze. “I think it would be best if we all returned to our homes to heal. When Winter has news on the identity of Ezra’s attacker, we will be in contact.”
“Thank you,” Philippe murmured. He felt chastened, not by Marcus’s words but by his tone. Tempers, fear, and adrenaline were still running high. Philippe had allowed Ezra to say too much already, embarrassing his clan and hurting Rafe.
But Philippe also couldn’t help wondering if there was a seed of truth to it all. Even with the Variks’ assistance for the past week, he felt no closer to learning who was killing off his clan. He wasn’t necessarily sure it was the Variks’ fault. He’d allowed himself to be distracted by Rafe. His attention had been on his own pleasure, on basking in the freedom and laughter he’d found in the other vampire’s arms. But that also meant he wasn’t putting his own clan first.
“Philippe, you need to feed,” Rafe said softly. He tried to take a step closer to Philippe, but his brother was holding him at the same time as Ezra started to move him toward the stairs and away from the Variks.
“His clan will take care of him,” Ezra snarled.
Marcus ducked his head, placing his lips next to Rafe’s ear. Philippe could easily guess that Marcus was reminding him that he was in no shape to donate any blood, but Philippe was touched by the sentiment all the same. Philippe had never fed from Rafe, and a part of him longed for that intimacy, but not like this. Not if it meant making his lover even weaker.
“We will talk soon,” Philippe murmured without looking at Marcus or Rafe.
He allowed Ezra to help him across the park to where he’d left the car. The wound on his neck and the throbbing in his skull healed, but he was still lightheaded and starved. Only a fresh infusion of blood would make him feel better. There would be no hunting though, until he cleaned up a bit. Jullien would have no problem supplying a quick bite to tide him over until he could pull himself together and get back on the street.
And then he’d have plenty of time to think about his relationship with Rafe and his clan.
Chapter Nineteen
Rafe braced his forearms on the cool tiles of his shower and hung his head as the hot water hammered his shoulders, trying to work away the tension that had been his constant companion for roughly a week.
A week.
And still no word from Philippe.
He’d lasted all of twenty-four hours after the attack before he texted Philippe.