Page 33 of Balthazar's Fire

‘Like it or not, it is sound,’ Balthazar assured him. ‘And since you have insisted each of us marry in order to inherit, you can be sure that my brothers will align with my way of thinking.’

Balthazar had no way of knowing that for sure, of course, but he knew all three of his siblings well and felt sure at least Sebastian and Cole would concur. Draco was a different matter, but then, Draco was always a different matter.

‘You know them best.’ Michael sounded sad. ‘They have grown since I departed your world.’

‘They are good men.’ Balthazar hoped his words were soothing. ‘And they will do right by your memory, Father, but one day we must accept the Vaughn secret will be revealed—to a select few, at least.’

‘I know.’ Michael paused. ‘All we can do in the meantime is keep an eye on the Monroes. Oliver’s father, Jonas, was a bad apple, and his son is no better.’

‘I will.” Balthazar turned toward Cherie, yearning to reach out and hold her. ‘Especially since Oliver seems to have taken a liking to Cherie.’

‘Take care of yourself, Balthazar.’

Balthazar shivered at his father’s cautionary tone.

‘I fear for your safety, and that of your new lady.’

Balthazar couldn’t help but smile at the way his father made that sound. His lady. Cherie was his.

‘I will,’ he promised. ‘And now that I know I can reach out to you this way, we can speak more often.’

‘Yes.’

‘Good night, then,’ Balthazar sent out the thought, picturing his dad in his mind.

‘Good night, son.’

Dismissing his father from his mind, Balthazar finally succumbed to his need and reached for Cherie, running one finger lightly across her bare skin. But even as he enjoyed the feel of her soft skin, his father’s warning echoed in his mind.

Jonas was a bad apple, and his son is no better

Deep down, Balthazar sensed Michael was right. Balthazar had struck back at Oliver and rescued Cherie, but the war with Jonas Monroe’s son was far from over.

Chapter Twelve

Cherie

Rousing from her slumber, Cherie stretched her limbs and smiled. Finally, she’d managed to get a decent night’s sleep and had woken feeling refreshed—a rare feat indeed. Rolling toward the center of the bed, she saw the reason for her satisfaction dozing peacefully at her side.

Balthazar.

Her grin widened as she took in the look of him.

Christ, he even looks good when he’s fast asleep.

Nearly black hair falling past his enviably long eyelashes, the man was all high cheekbones and strong jawline.

Gorgeous. Her heart sped up at her silent verdict. He’s absolutely gorgeous and last night he brought some of my wildest fantasies to life!

Catching her breath, she closed her eyes and remembered, surprised and reassured by how easily the memories they’d made together drowned out the grim recollections of her time in Oliver’s basement. Balthazar had been magnificent, curating a climax for Cherie that had rarely been rivaled, and he’d accomplished it all with that same smooth and sexy tone, the one that assured her that she was safe. He was in charge and had everything under control.

She clenched the muscles at the apex of her sex as she recalled just how exquisite his control had been. Cherie had waited her entire life for a man who was kind, assertive, and attractive, let alone one who would risk his own safety and that of his brothers for a woman he hardly knew. Balthazar was too good to be true, yet there he was, fast asleep next to her. She didn’t know how she’d manifested such a flawless man, but she was absurdly grateful that she had.

But I don’t even know him. A crease appeared in her brow as the perturbing thought resounded. I can’t put my faith in a man I don’t know.

Blowing out a breath, she realized she was right. However perfect Balthazar seemed, he was still a stranger. Yes, he’d put his neck on the line for Cherie, but there was no onus on him to do so again. She was pushing thirty, living in a tiny apartment she could barely afford, had no job and seemed to be the target of her creepy ex-boss.

Who’s also a fucking shifter!