Page 30 of Benicio

“I’m not sure. He sucked in a deep breath,” David said. “He still has a pulse.”

That was when David noticed Benicio’s skin was warming. He didn’t feel like a Popsicle any longer. So why wasn’t he waking up?

Eleazar walked in. “The curse lifted. I felt the moment the power drained from the book.”

“So why isn’t he awake?” David asked, still kneeling next to Benicio.

“The curse is gone, but his body must still heal.”

David looked around. “Not to pester you, but shouldn’t the vampire race also have died?”

“Maybe our race wasn’t created from this book,” Eleazar said. “It was over two-thousand years ago. We may never know.”

David flung himself onto Benicio, hugging him tightly. “You didn’t leave me,” he whispered. “You didn’t leave me.”

“We’ll take Benicio home to rest,” Matteo said. “Thank you.”

Eleazar nodded, though he was staring at Benicio. “Let him know we have a lot to talk about once he is back on his feet.”

And now that Benicio was going to survive, David hoped his mate healed before the council came looking for him.

David pushed from the floor and hugged Eleazar. It might not have been the appropriate thing to do, but they owed the coven leader a debt. Eleazar stood there stiffly, and then an arm curled around David. “Take your mate home.”

* * * *

“Jizz might have a bead on where the heavy hitter is staying,” Bones said when he walked into the building. “Should we check it out?”

Hound was seated at the table, playing cards. He hated to be interrupted when he was betting, but since he was losing, he tossed his cards onto the table. “Jizz isn’t that credible.”

“Why’d you fold?” one of the men complained.

Hound flipped the guy off and then set his Glock on the table in front of him. “Care to continue whining like a little bitch?”

The guy shook his head. Fuck, Hound didn’t even know half their names. Too many men had been recruited in the past few months, even before Cash had been killed. To him, they were just nameless faces in a sea of nameless faces.

Hound stood, grabbing his gun and the cash off the table, before looking toward Bones. “Let’s take this outside.”

The cool night air invigorated him. It was late November, nearly Thanksgiving, and soon Hound would need to travel home to see his parents who lived in the Hamptons. No one knew he came from money, and his parents had no clue what Hound was up to.

Because Hound wasn’t his real name.

He lit a cigarette and sat on an empty oil drum. “Where did Jizz say the heavy hitter was staying?”

“Off of Prescott Road,” Bones said. “Millionaires Lane.”

Little did anyone know that Hound’s parents owned a home there. They owned a lot of property across the country. “Yeah, I’ve heard of the area. Did he say which property?”

Bones smirked. “He said he would tell you if you paid him.”

Maybe after this, Hound would return home. As far as his parents knew, he was off sowing his oats. They never questioned when he took off, because they were too busy traveling all the time. They’d never taken an interest in his life, had hired nannies to raise him, had shipped him off to boarding schools, anything to keep him out of their hair.

But Hound was only twenty-seven. He missed the eccentric parties, missed fast cars and loose women. This had been nothing but a rebellious act, taking over the Council of Darkness and the Ridgeway Riders. Hound had been a part of this life for two years, had loved the wildness of it, the freedom, but now he was getting bored.

“Pay him.”

Bones frowned. “You want to pay Jizz? He’s a piece of shit, and we don’t even know if he’s telling the truth.”

“Then kill him if he’s not,” Hound said, though, personally, he’d never killed anyone. Hound always relied on his good looks and charm. That was how he’d risen to the top so quickly. The thought of actually shooting anyone didn’t appeal to him.

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