Page 113 of The Phoenix

He groaned when she bent to grab the weapon off the floor but pulled up his pants despite another hard-on.

Rein closed his lids, shaking his head to clear the vision of his naked mate. “Looks like a shit-load of them. The thing’s old.”

“Who sent it?”

“Damned if I know.”

“Why is it addressed to you?”

“No clue, but I hate a mystery. I think we should take it to Jace. See if she can get a read on it.” But with his mate sexy as hell, he was about to ditch the idea. Some restraint would be good. Besides, he hated that someone had sneaked to his door undetected.

“It’s past midnight, Rein.”

“So? Get dressed. Never thought I’d say that.”

She sidled toward the bedroom, walking backward, her breasts bouncing with each step. Brae knew exactly how to push his buttons. Vampires loved a hunt. She was his favorite prey.

“What are your plans after we take the sword to Jace?”

She was taunting him now. Teasing his beast.

She crooked a finger. “I want you.”

Rein flashed to Brae, tracing the freckles which swam across the bridge of her slim nose. “You’ve had me from the first minute I saw you in the alley.”

“Then, we visit Jace in the morning.”

He shook his head. “Nope. I find the sneak first. Afterward, I pleasure you until you beg me to stop.”

****

Rein pounded on the door.

A sleepy, spike-haired Firebrand warlock with a sickle tat under his eye opened it. The silver bar through his brow slashed downward when Rein told him to fetch Jace.

Tyr jutted out his chin. “Hell no.”

But he was too late. His mate stumbled out from the bedroom. Cinching a long fuzzy robe, she yawned.

While he gave Tyr a smug grin, Rein unboxed the sword in its sheath, offering them to Jace, the Blood Coven descendant who could read the history of artifacts.

“Beautiful. The sword looks old. The leather sheath new.” Suddenly wide awake, she curled her fingers around the handle, removing the weapon from its scabbard. “Wow. Heavy.”

Rein had never seen the Goth warlock not wearing enough leathers to start his own BDSM shop. Dressed now in low-slung pajama bottoms, he placed a palm on his female’s waist while she shuffled toward the sofa, gripping the sword like a prize. “Just so you know, if she gets a massive headache from this shit, I’ll be passing the blade back to you so you can adios yourselves out of here. We were looking forward to an entire night’s sleep since I’ve been running double missions.”

Yep. Who hadn’t?

“I feel the pain. But some idiot stuck this outside our door. I want to know who it belongs to,” said Rein.

“Sweetheart.” Brae nodded a greeting at their hosts. “Jace comes first. Correct?” She signaled Rein with arched brows along with a wide-eyed warning.

Was that Brae’s code for be kind? Probably.

After a pause, he snarled, “Right.”

Tyr relaxed into the cushions beside Jace, an arm draped protectively over her shoulder.

“You familiar with swords?” Rein sank into an overstuffed chair across from his hosts, his elbows propped on his knees.