Swamp Kings 2 (Bayou Bishops #20)

CHAPTER FIVE

Beth’s tears refused to stop as Bishop kissed her for the tenth time. He was leaving to get the stupid bite and refused to let her be with him for it. It didn’t help that he’d just told her all the details and the risks. Of course he waited till the last second, he knew how she’d take it.

“This is not fair,” she barely whispered, letting her tears flow, not caring what she looked or sounded like anymore. “I’m your wife and if…” She removed the risks of what he was doing from her tongue. “I should be there.”

“You have too much power over me,” Bishop pled softly, stroking her face. “Seer will be there.”

“But he’s not me!” she yelled, hitting his chest with her fists. “Oh God, I’m sorry!” she gasped, throwing her arms around his neck. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. ”

“I love you more than a million fucking lifetimes,” he heaved, his arms so tight around her. “And that is why I will not jeopardize my life because I have to protect you and take care of you, our child, and the rest of our family. Listen to me.” He forced her to look at him. “I will call you the second it’s done. You can stay on the line with me while I’m under observation. And when they’re sure I’m fine, you’ll be by my side. And then we’re going on that fucking trip. You’ll be with Maggie till we leave, she needs you too.”

Oh God. She’d forgotten… “About that,” she whispered, swallowing.

He searched her face, panic edging his dark gaze. “What?”

“She didn’t tell Spook. She… decided it was better to wait, because… because of the reasons you said, that it would drive him crazy.”

She watched his eyes roll shut and his head drop.

“I think she’s right not to tell him,” Beth assured.

He pressed his forehead to hers, petting her face again. “I’ll talk to Seer. He’ll know what we need to do.”

She nodded, wiping her face, his torment reminding her of her position as his wife and as the Belle Eveque. This was one of those decisions they’d once talked about her having to make. “I’m ready to follow you however you say. Wherever you say.” She locked eyes with him, adding several firm nods. “I trust you with all that I am.”

Something raw flashed in his dark eyes and he grabbed her face, kissing her so deeply, it stole her breath and all the fears right from her mind. “We’ve got this, baby,” he whispered at her mouth. “God is with us.”

****

The low, steady hum of the motorboat sliced through the stillness of the swamp as they approached Nitro’s Bat Shack. The old hunting place looked like it had been swallowed by the swamp, covered in vines and sagging in places from years of damp air.

Lesion and Seer sat quietly behind him as the boat entered the shack’s shadow cast on the dark water, the tension between the three of them palpable.

Bishop fixed his eyes on the dilapidation, or what waited for him inside it. Transformation. Life changing power. And terror that he was making the biggest mistake of his life .

Bishop gazed up at the bats filling the dark sky, their chaotic flight patterns feeling like harbingers of whatever was about to come.

The boat finally bumped against the rickety dock, and Bishop stepped out onto the floating platform. He took a moment to breathe in the crisp air, the usual smell of moss and wet wood taking a cat nap beneath the breath of winter. As still as it was, the night pulsed with its own foreboding, as if knowing what was about to happen.

Nitro stood in only jeans just outside the entrance to the shack, his form silhouetted by the faint moonlight and the glow of Jack-o-lanterns scattered about the porch and steps. His grin was plenty visible—broad and predatory. Bishop spotted his new fangs, extended and glistening. The sight added a mind-numbing surrealism to the Halloween in February décor.

As Bishop made his way to the porch, the bats swirled around him, seeming agitated by his presence, wings flapping in erratic bursts.

“Ready, my Eveque?” Nitro’s voice carried a hint of amusement, along with an underlying hunger. Climbing the steps, Bishop met the feral gleam in his heterochromia eyes, finding an eerie glow, noticing the thicker, sharper muscle on his evolving body.

“I’m ready,” Bishop muttered, his heartbeat a Revelle alarm at what was coming.

“Gentlemen,” Nitro greeted to Lesion and Seer. “Thanks for coming.”

“Somebody’s gotta babysit,” Seer said quietly. “Nice fangs.”

“Aren’t they?” He led them toward the door. “They come out all by themselves when it’s time to play,” he said, a monster bragging about his new toy.

Inside, the scent of old wood and bat droppings hit his nose. Fucking hell. He glanced at the fire burning in the small fireplace and the scatter of Jack-o-lanterns littering the room. The outer dilapidation seemed to stop at the door where a warm glow flickered over the clean, sparsely furnished interior.

“Trick or treat,” Lesion muttered curiously as he set his own bag of tricks on the side table next to a large armchair covered in a black sheet.

“Felix cleaned up the place for us,” he said. “I dig the light it provides.”

Bishop’s gaze moved along the two ropes extending from the ceiling above the armchair along with grinning pumpkins on the floor next to it .

“Your operation table,” Nitro informed quietly at the creepy ensemble. “Lesion requested the ropes.”

“For your protection,” Lesion explained.

“Or theirs,” Nitro chuckled, exempting himself from the threat.

“I need to clear his neuropathways before we begin,” Lesion said. “You can sit if you’re ready.”

Ready or not, Bishop made his way to the chair and sat, taking the vial Lesion handed him. “This will help relax you.”

Bishop took it and drank every drop, then gave it back. The cold liquid slid down his throat like ice and spread almost immediately, bringing a noticeable shift in his senses. Sharper. His heart thudded against his chest, the blows more forceful and yet slower while the screech of bats seemed to swarm closer.

“Let’s get you saddled up,” Nitro said, taking hold of the rope while Lesion handed him a second vial. Bishop downed it again while Nitro wrapped his shins first to the chair.

Lesion took the empty vial, his gaze meeting his. “If you have any questions, just ask.”

He held his dark eyes for a few seconds. “I trust you.”

Nitro crossed the ropes three times over his chest next, passing them under the chair before tying them over his head. “That oughta’ do.”

His bat brother stood before him, the sharp tips of his new fangs peeking from his upper lip. “We ready?” he asked.

“One minute,” Lesion said, placing two fingers against the pulse at Bishop’s wrist. They sat in the bat-screeching silence while he wondered if his thoughts should be racing or settling.

“He’s ready,” Lesion announced quietly.

“Hold on,” Seer said walking up behind him.

Bishop’s breath left him when his hand rested on the top of his head. He closed his eyes, his breath shaking as he agreed with every word Seer silently prayed, trusting they were all the right ones. More importantly they were coming from the right man.

“Thank you,” Bishop whispered when his hand lifted.

“Always got your back, brother,” he murmured as Nitro moved behind him.

He set his hands on his shoulders. “You ready, my Eveque?”

Bishop gripped the arms of the chair. “Let’s do it. ”

The weight of the moment pressed in on the air around him as Nitro placed a hand on the left of Bishop’s head. “You’re my first with the new venom blades,” he said, his breath at his neck.

Bishop closed his eyes and dug every finger into the chair as the bats flew erratically, sensing the coming change.

Nitro’s fangs struck the side of his neck, a sharp, precise pain that deepened as it spread. The wildfire raced through his body, forcing his fingers into fists as it spread faster, igniting everything in its path—his nerves, his muscles, his mind.

Bishop’s heart hammered against his ribcage, fighting not to fight it. The ropes held him in place, keeping him grounded, as wave after wave of heat and cold collided inside him. Nitro’s fangs remained deep as the venom did its work. The pain drilled in, stealing the time from every second as his vision blurred and snapped into focus in waves. He clenched his eyes tighter as the venom tore through him, chewing up old wiring in his brain and covering his cells with its saliva. Spasms gripped his muscles as the power within him built, pushing against his blood and bones. He fought to breathe around the fire, each inhale burning his lungs, demanding air faster than he could get it.

The promise of death crawled along his skin, tightening like a vice around his heart as his fangs twisted and pushed deeper with Nitro’s hungry growl, the sheer intensity dragging a strained seethe from Bishop’s throat. His body raced to adapt, but the change was happening too fast. Nitro removed his fangs, his growling breaths an echo in his head, mixing with his own as the cellular slaughter continued, turning seconds into eternity and every breath into hell.

“How long?” The Seer’s tense words ricocheted in his skull like a gunshot as his muscles shook harder, his pulse carrying the venom deeper, bringing thunderous growls in his chest. His brain seemed to break loose within his skull, calculations, ideas, equations, measures, all flooding out like a machine gone rogue. The edges of his mind expanded as his body strengthened, adapting to the power being forced into him. The rope around his shins and upper body became jaws as his muscles swelled, blood pushing like a tsunami in his veins.

Raw power fought to break him free and soar him through the universe, every nerve burning, every pulse hammering, slamming against his chest, demanding he shatter or become something else. Bishop roared then thrashed, clawing for that edge of no return, anything to escape the hell consuming him. His mind clawed to get away from the venom as it dragged something massive out of him. The bats screamed with the madness, flying into the shack walls and windows as he continued to fill the room with roars, pushing every ounce of breath into each one.

“What the hell is happening?” Seer yelled.

Bishop’s eyes suddenly rolled into his skull till it felt like they’d rip from their sockets. They snapped back and opened wide with a clarity so sharp it hurt his brain. He shot his gaze to the jack-o’-lanterns, no longer just lights but equations where every flicker and shadow fell exactly as he predicted. He angled his head, listening to the bats outside, their wing flaps transforming into a rhythm, then a pattern in his mind.

Holy fuck.

He tensed his arms and the resistance in the rope cast a formula across his eyes. With a sharp inhale, he surged forward, snapping the ropes like thread, the pressure in his muscles releasing all at once, leaving him gasping and trembling, but alive—so fucking alive.

“Holy mother nature,” Lesion whispered.

“Bishop,” Seer called, the loud sound nearly giving him a seizure right as he found the switch to adapt to his new hearing.

He sat still for a second, testing the boundaries of what was new within him. His blood surged like a flooded river, thick with fury. He wasn’t just stronger—he was a storm of algorithms with the power and speed of a bolt of fucking lightning.

“Brother?” Seer called with a low caution.

Bishop flexed his hands, every tendon moving with precision. His heart still thundered in his chest, but it no longer felt out of control. It felt right. His mind buzzed with calculations, spinning faster than he could catch them, but somehow, it still made sense in the same way he knew how it made sense. He’d adapted. Within thirty seconds. Nineteen point four seconds, to be exact.

Nitro’s voice drifted from the edge of the room. “Look at that,” he said, a grin in every word. “You wore my bat buddies out already.”

Bishop’s gaze flicked toward Nitro, catching the predatory gleam in his mismatched eyes, the glow of his new fangs in the firelight. Bishop took a slow breath, steadying himself. His mind was still racing, still buzzing with possibilities as the transformation finished taking root .

Power stretched within him like a beast waiting to be unleashed. But it wasn’t wild—it was controlled, calculated. Maybe even patient. But on a timer.

Seer’s hand settled on his shoulder, the feeling instantly grounding him. He closed his eyes, the steady weight of his brother’s presence cutting through the buzz in his mind.

“You good, brother?” Seer asked, his voice low and calm.

Bishop nodded, exhaling slowly. “Yeah.”

He flexed his fingers again, marveling at the newfound precision in every movement. “Feels… different.”

“And so fucking good?” Nitro asked from the shadows where he leaned against the wall.

He nodded, not about to deny it.

“Told you.”

Outside, the bats circled tighter, their screeches filling the night air. The first phase was done, but the transformation wasn’t over. Bishop could feel it—the symphony inside him had only just begun.

He angled his head, listening. “What is that?” he wondered, making his way to the door.

On the porch, he looked up into the sky, Lesion and Seer looking with him.

“That’s her ravens,” Nitro mused, curious. “And crows.”

Bishop made his way down the steps, and the second he hit the pier, the hurricane of ca-caws descended on him. He rapidly deciphered their language, each piercing cry forming pieces of a message, while hundreds of feathers beat against his face and body. The sensation was soothing. Insistent, reverent taps as they circled him with a purpose, their wings like a shield, their cries a vow. He realized they weren’t simply greeting him, they were declaring something much deeper. A bond of allegiance.

Right amidst the cacophony of this bonding power, a sharp stab hit his jaw. The birds sensed it and flew off as he grabbed his entire lower face, groaning.

“What’s wrong?” Lesion hurried next to him, ready for alchemy action. “Tell me what you’re experiencing.” Bishop groaned again, raising his head to his inky brother who whispered, “Holy fuck”

Bishop’s tongue ran into what astonished him, feeling the edge of his canines. Sharper. Longer. Panic hit him and he spun to Nitro. “What’s happening? Did this fucking happen to you?”

He spotted the phenomenon and hurried over, grabbing his head in both hands and raising his upper lip with his thumbs. “Holy motherfuck, you’ve done grown yourself a pair of fangs,” he marveled, his own suddenly appearing with his grin. “I can’t think of a better first use of your creative powers, my Eveque. I’m sure she’ll appreciate them.”

The second she left his mouth , a flood of lust hit his blood stream and turned his breaths into growls of hunger.

“Oh shit,” he muttered with a knowing.

Bishop’s eyes snapped to him. “What’s happening?”

“You’re preparing to bond,” he warned with low excitement.

“Bond?” he whispered, his cock clarifying what his mind immediately rejected. His head was already shaking, then Nitro’s shook.

“You can’t stop this,” he informed with an unapologetic assurance. “And you don’t want to.”

“She’s fucking pregnant!” he growled, heaving through the heady desire setting him on fire.

“My Eveque,” he whispered, holding his shoulders firmly. “Surely you knew this was coming,” he gently checked.

Fuck, he did. Just not this soon. He’d intended to wait till after this fucking trip, but all his new gifts laughed out loud in his head at that. If the power in his blood was a gauge, he’d be bonding within the hour . “Where’s my phone,” he growled, fear mixing with the insanity, creating an acidic icing. “I need to call her.”

“I have your phone,” Seer said, handing it to him.

“You might need to let her know what’s coming,” Nitro carefully suggested, sounding hungry, maybe envious for another first time. “So she’s not scared.”

More panic hit him at remembering Nitro’s first time and how fucking insane it was. His brain’s new abilities allowed him to find her number and dial it all while dozens of worst-case scenarios lined up in his head. How the fuck would he protect her from what he felt preparing to unleash? There was a way, he could feel it in his brain, a flashing neon sign just behind that wall of terror.

“You will not hurt her,” Nitro assured, reading his unravelling mind. “It won’t let you. I was terrified I was killing her, but I wasn’t. It wasn’t. It knows even if you don’t.”

Bishop headed down the pier when he heard the first ring, his knowing and fearing clashing like arch enemies in his head. Halfway along the floating dilapidation, she answered. “Sahvrin?”

The sharp gasp of his name hit his auditory like an ancient secret, his mind instantly unraveling exactly how her words had power. Her words weren’t just sounds—they were frequencies. A perfect resonance carrying intent and emotion that mapped directly onto his nervous system, hitting instinct and emotions directly, triggering responses before his mind could even process them. He stood there, stunned by the revelation while drowning in the tidal wave of lust flooding him.

“Please tell me you’re okay.”

She sobbed the words and the power in them nearly buckled his knees. “I’m okay,” he forced from his lungs, heaving for more air.

“Oh God, thank you,” she wept, full out crying now. “I’m sorry,” she choked out, her sobs sputtering. “My faith sucks!”

The tiny words bypassed his heart and hit him directly in his balls and yet he knew that’s exactly where her power belonged. In his fucking cock and that belonged buried in her cunt and perfect ass .

“Tell me how you feel,” she whispered, oblivious to the changes crashing down on him with every breath he took. “I love you so much, I meant to tell you that before you left, and I forgot and then I thought what if something happens—”

“I need to fuck you,” he shot out, cutting her off. “I was going to wait till after, but I can’t, it won’t let me.”

“W-what won’t let you?” she half wondered, her instant lust stabbing him. “I mean of course, whatever you need. I’m here to help. I want to, I crave to,” she clarified, not wanting him to think she only cared about fucking. But in that very second, her pussy dripped with that sacred gospel. “I crave to let you. Fuck me,” she whispered.

“I can hear how wet your pussy is in your words, ” he said, the power of such a knowledge stealing his breath. And how that was even possible was so simple , he felt like a moron not knowing it.

“I… I am wet,” she whispered, like he needed confirmation.

“I’m on my way.”

“To Spook’s?”

Fuck, he forgot she went there. “Ruckus isn’t there anymore,” he remembered. “We’ll do it there.”

“O-okay, do I… need to do anything to… prepare?”

He closed his eyes, truly waiting for his brain to give him the answer to that, but it gave a big fat fucking nothing. “Pray,” he gushed, remembering the lifeline. “I’m on my way.”