Page 128 of Golden Eagle

You’re right, Nikita thought savagely.

He chastised himself immediately after. He could still remember his own desperation as Vlad Dracula bore down on him, sword glinting, his own hands pathetically empty. Could remember Val – underweight and unwashed, his cheeks hollow and his eyes shadowed – striding into the library, his own sword in-hand, stepping between them, taking the full force of Dracula’s swing against his own blade. Vlad would have run him through if not for Val. Even if Vlad hadn’t killed him, Nikita would have been in no state to get on his feet and carry Sasha out of that place.

Or, given his reputation, Vladmight havekilled him. For the sheer fun of it.

“No,” Val said, and turned to look right at Nikita. His voice came out bright and carefree, but his gaze hardened. “They won’t mind, will they?”

Nikita read a very particular kind of threat in his face. Amess with me all you like, but touch my mate, and we’ll duel right here, right nowkind of threat. A feverish look, one he’d seen on his own face in the mirror countless times.

He let out a slow breath, and nodded. “Sit. There’s plenty of food.”

Val’s smile was dazzling, fangs flashing. “Wonderful.” He pulled out an empty chair for Mia and saw that she was comfortably settled before he took the one beside her, the two chairs Will and Much had vacated.

Nikita looked at his own mate. Sasha was staring at him with brows slightly raised, mouth turned down at the corners.

“It’s fine,” Nikita said, low, just for him. “I can behave myself.”

Sasha’s frown quirked, and became more of a smile. “He escaped,” he said, still wondering.

Nikita sighed and scraped up a smile for him. “Pretty amazing, huh?”

Sasha nodded, and before Nikita could make a fool of himself asking, slid into the booth so he was next to Lanny, and let Nikita sit on the outside edge, closest to Val.

Val noticed, and sent him a smirk, before he rested his elbows on the table, tossed his braid over his shoulder, and said, “Now, let’s see. It’s all very dramatic. Oh. Are those chicken wings?”

~*~

Val polished off six wings with meticulous delicacy, and in between, he told them what had happened in Virginia.

Sasha had known that Baron Strange and his wife, Annabel, were unhappy at the Institute, that they’d been coerced into cooperating with Dr. Talbot’s plans. Their involvement wasn’t all that surprising. Vlad’s was, though.

Val didn’t go into great detail. His gaze became hooded, and he said, “Vlad isn’t what you think he is. He isn’t even whatIthought he was.” But the words spoke volumes. Something had happened – something had been revealed – and whatever it was, it had led Val to trust his brother completely. And Vlad, in keeping with that trust, had freed Val from his cell, had washed and fed him, given him clothes, allowed him to turn his mortal lover, and ensured his escape.

Had even – and this was the truly staggering part – convinced Strange and Annabel to become Val’s bound Familiars.

Nikita asked after Mia with clear disapproval. “Why did you turn her?”

Mia answered. “Because I was dying. Brain tumor. And Val was kind enough to” – her voice hitched the barest fraction, a waver of lingering uncertainty – “cure me.”

Val covered her hand with his own, and turned to look at her adoringly. “It wasn’t a kindness, my love.”

“And it wasn’t a cure,” Nikita added darkly.

“A curse?” Val guessed, wryly, turning back to Nikita. “Is that what you call it when you’re in your lover’s arms? Here in a time when you actually can be, publicly, and not be hanged for it?”

Nik’s face flushed, and his jaw clenched, but he didn’t answer.

Sasha sent Val a reprimanding look, and Val dipped his head, once, in silent apology.

“What’s Vlad doing now?” Trina asked.

“Trying to put a stop to the war, I suppose.”

Lanny groaned. “Jesus, why are all you fanged people obsessed with whatever the hell this ‘war’ is.”

Val smiled at him, slow and wicked. “All of us fanged people? Have you filed yours down?”

Lanny snorted.

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