whiskered chin, his eyes morphing from their normal metallic color to his secondary color of blackish green. Most immortals switched eye colors during extreme situations. Not Benny. Contentment brought the change out in him. “I like spending time with you guys when we’re not ripping necks out of people.”
“Yeah,” Ronan said, looking around the fire. “This is nice. I mean, all six of us in one place.” A roughness deepened his voice. “Someday we’ll have my brother, I mean our brother, here with us. Quade will survive, and we’ll help him start a new life. Right, Viking?”
Ivar nodded. “Yeah.” It did feel good being with his brothers again. Almost complete. Their ages ranged from fourteen hundred years old to Garrett and Logan’s mere twenty-five years, but each had survived an unsurvivable ritual to create their own brotherhood. Age didn’t matter, and neither did family lines, because now they shared blood, which made them brothers. For the first time since he’d returned so broken, he felt a sliver of hope. They were strong enough to save Quade and kill Ulric. They had no choice. “I, ah, wanted to say thank you. For the last three months.”
Adare reached over and clapped him on the back hard enough to rattle his teeth. “Of course. We’re family.”
They were. It was true. Ivar stared at the fire, no longer needing to run away from flames. Who did Promise have? She didn’t have this type of support system. A part of him, one he would not examine, wanted to draw her into the fold. Give her a secure place.
But that wasn’t his to give. Not if he was going to live out the rest of his days in Quade’s hell dimension.
He glanced at Adare, who was the last remaining O’Cearbhaill remaining on earth. The clan had been one of the deadliest of the Highlanders, and surely he had plans to continue his line. “Your mate asked me to take her to Realm headquarters so she could be infected with that new virus.” Would Adare allow such an act?
“No,” Adare said shortly, reaching for another beer. “The virus has only negated mating bonds in mates that have been widowed for centuries. A new mating bond would be too strong, and she’d end up getting killed. The woman needs to be protected from herself.”
Ivar cut a glance at Ronan, who shrugged. For centuries, Ivar had tried to pull Adare out of self-destructive and dangerous situations after Adare’s shifter love had mated another shifter. Was he still in love with that twit? “Is it your decision?”
“She’s my mate. Everything about her is my decision,” Adare said.
Huh. Ivar wasn’t certain Grace Cooper would agree with that. She was a modern woman from this century, even though she was now caught in a war between immortals. Was Adare staying distant because the final ritual might kill them all? Even the human women they called the Keys; the ones who’d be involved in the blood ritual that could kill Ulric? Ivar didn’t understand females, and he sure as shit didn’t understand relationships. But something told him Adare was fucking this one up but good. “Why don’t you try for a real matehood?”
“With a human?” Adare mumbled. “Not a chance. They’re too fragile.”
Ronan shook his head. “She’s immortal now, numbnuts. And she’s a Key, which is well known by the Kurjans. Without her and the other Keys, Ulric can’t be destroyed.”
“So she’s in constant danger and has no choice but to let me protect her,” Adare snapped. “Discussion is closed. Now.”
Ivar shrugged. “Fine. How about a status report? Any news on the Cyst?” The white-faced monsters were supposedly a monk-like sect within the Kurjan organization, but they were also a fierce fighting force, determined to rescue Ulric from his prison world. “The two last night fought well.”
“They’re still kidnapping Enhanced women across the globe—probably to force matings and increase their numbers,” Garrett said somberly. “The Realm is tracking each disappearance down, but no luck stopping the kidnappings so far.”
Ivar shook his head, his chest aching. They had to take out the Kurjans and their Cyst fighting force for good.
Mercy emerged from her cabin and made her way toward Logan, who pulled her down onto his lap and snuggled her close. She leaned back into him with a sigh of contentment, her long hair brushing down his arm.
Ivar studied them. Was that what happy looked like? It seemed like it. Logan handed her his beer, and she took a drink, her gaze caught by