All Souls Near & Nigh (Soulbound, #2)

by Hailey Turner

In the grand scheme of things, vampires were still better than dealing with his father and twin sister. Their toxic family reunion back in June could’ve gone worse, but only if Patrick had put a gun to his own head and pulled the trigger.

Lying on the bed how he was, with his hips tilted up, knees spread wide, and Jono practically lying on top of him to keep him there, all Patrick could do was take it.

“Patrick,” Jono growled. “That is your murder voice,” Patrick said, eyeing him. “No murder allowed on the premises where cops can see.”

Jono settled his fingers against the scar tissue over Patrick’s heart, feeling it beat steadily underneath his touch. That Patrick didn’t wake up pleased Jono to no end. It said more than words about how much Patrick trusted him, and Jono knew how difficult it was to earn that.

Home wasn’t a place. It was people.

Patrick, Jono knew, was the sort of bloke who would break off bits of himself first before letting someone else even get a scratch.

“I’ll find you,” Jono promised, meaning it with everything he had. Patrick smiled, the expression lopsided, but his shields had thinned out enough that Jono could smell the relief emanating from him. “I know you will.”

“So how are we doing this? You have a plan that’s more than serving the warrant?” “Yeah. Don’t die.” “That’s your plan?” “It’s a good plan.” Sage stared at him with an unimpressed look on her face. “What? It is.” “Unbelievable.”

The smug look on Tremaine’s face devolved into one of fury Patrick could see from halfway across the club. “Aw, I think you hit a nerve. Quick, do it again.”

“I’ll always be with him.” Even when he wasn’t, but Jono decided then and there that the next time Patrick got the brilliant idea to go haring off on his own, Jono would laugh in his face and tell him no fucking way.

“I’ll drop you off and reach out to the SOA to stem some of the damage from tonight on the case front,” Quetzalcoatl said as the SUV lurched forward, the world back to how it was supposed to be. “Sure, Pretzel,” Patrick muttered.

Jono ended the call without saying another word, unsure of what he could say without taking away Patrick’s choice.

Jono cleaned him up as quickly and carefully as he could, letting the events of the night wash down the drain, knowing it wouldn’t be that easy later on.

Jono wanted to argue, but the tired sincerity in Patrick’s voice made him hold his tongue. The oaths Patrick had already taken over the years, the bits of himself he’d sold off, all the promises that built him would never be enough to keep him whole. Jono refused to add to the cracks.

“To avenge you? Anything.” Patrick blinked, the hard line of his mouth softening. “Murder is so much better than flowers some days.”

“The arrogance you mortals carry means you miss what is right in front of you. They will see me as they want, not as I am,”

“I don’t appreciate you taking what’s mine.” Patrick rolled his eyes at Jono’s proprietary claim, but it left him feeling warm inside.

Tremaine, for his part, didn’t look nervous at all. He’d come to this fight dressed for a night on the town, clearly believing Jono was an easy mark when the only person Jono was easy for was Patrick.

If he was a better person, maybe he would’ve put Wade’s trauma first. If they weren’t fighting against gods, then he could have. But weighed against a city of millions, one teenager’s shitty past wasn’t enough to make Patrick change his mind. In war, there was no such thing as the greater good, only good enough for now. Patrick couldn’t always be a good person.

Patrick didn’t know how to tell Wade that there were things he thought he’d never have to do. That there were lines he thought he’d never have to cross. Patrick used to believe that once, but he learned the hard way—a long, long time ago—that never was just another word for until.

From above, Wade shouted, “I thought you said don’t bring down the building? Is this some do as I say, not as I do bullshit?” “Shut up and run!” Patrick yelled. Fucking teenagers.

Patrick’s tainted soul was scarred and broken in ways he’d learned to live with. He had never wanted what now tied him and Jono together. He’d never wanted to be like his father. I’m sorry.

You might be hiding as some hotshot general, but that doesn’t change your way of thinking. All you lot care about is winning.” Jono’s eyes cut to Patrick, the anger in his gaze tempered by concern. “You don’t care about what’s left behind when war gets peeled away.”

“You weren’t dealing with the aftermath of assault all the rest of the times. You’ve gone back to cigarettes, and don’t think I haven’t noticed the whiskey bottle was replaced twice this week.” Patrick went still in his arms. “Tremaine didn’t rape me.” “Doesn’t need to be rape to hurt, love.”

“Never met anyone else like you,” Jono said against his lips. “Don’t want anyone else but you.” Patrick pulled back, face flushed and eyes more black than green. “You mean it?” “Always. I’m not leaving you.”

“I know your master likes his games, but Wade is gonna chew off his arm if we don’t feed him soon. Can we get this over with?” “I’ll chew off your arm,” Wade muttered.

“Was that the only reason you brought us here?” Patrick asked. Lucien licked Estelle’s blood off his Ka-Bar, careful of the serrated edge. “Does it matter?” “If I wanted to see a show, I would’ve gone to Broadway.” “Your life choices remain terrible.”