by J. Emery
"It's all true, I assure you," Ezra said. He rolled onto his side so he could see the hunter better. He'd told him too much, anything was too much where his family was concerned, but it still felt not enough. About the families and their endless squabbling over the blood trade, and he sitting atop it all like a useless crown. He'd never talked about it to anyone. The only people he was allowed to talk to were family—siblings and distant relatives he knew little about besides their fealty to the name—or his few friends handpicked from other allied families. Every inch of his life had been so carefully curated. It felt good to finally have a say in what or whom he talked about. Or to. And he liked the hunter. He liked the way Morgan frowned when he listened and how credulous he was even about things that must seem entirely ridiculous to him.
"You're telling me that vampires aren't just thriving, they're running a multilevel vampire pyramid scheme, your family is part of it, and no one knows about any of it? This is gonna take me a minute to get over." He picked up his discarded mug and then set it back down again without drinking. "Really?"
"Oh there are plenty who know about it, and some are even human, but they all know better than to run their mouths."
"And if they don't?"
Ezra flopped back down. "There are consequences, of course. There are always consequences. None of us are entirely free."
"And now it's sounding ominous again." Morgan dropped his chin into one big hand. "You're only telling me this because you're planning to murder me in my sleep, aren't you?"
"Would you even believe me if I said I wasn't?"
"Not likely."
Ezra made a face. "Well, I'm not. I keep telling you that." He had plans, of course. But none of them included Morgan's imminent death. He wished he could get the hunter to believe that. He snuck another peek and froze when Morgan caught his eye.
"Are the other vampires like you?"
If he'd said it in any other tone, like it was a judgment, Ezra probably wouldn't have answered. But it was only curious, so he did. "In what way? You'll have to be more specific."
Morgan's eyes devoured him. He blushed while he did it, but any embarrassment he felt didn't seem to be enough to stop him. "You're—" He coughed awkwardly.
"Yes?" Ezra smiled sweetly at him. He licked his lips. Slowly. Morgan's eyes followed. He could get used to having this kind of power over someone. Torturous as it was. Morgan was a half-dozen feet away and all Ezra could think about was getting him closer, having that body pressing him down into the couch. He wanted Morgan to want that too.
Another cough. Morgan swiped a hand over his face. "Look, you're fine as fuck and you know it. Don't play. I've heard since I was little that vampires were scary fang monsters but you're..." He waved a hand. "And you still look human. If I hadn't seen you gnawing on my arm with my own two eyes, I wouldn't have believed it."
Ezra preened, always happy to hear about himself. "Tell me more."
"No, answer the question. I answered yours. Now it's your turn."
"Don't tell me what to do."
To his surprise, Morgan laughed.
Ezra dropped back with a pout. "Fine, since you asked, no. They're not all like me. I'm clearly an exception. Most of them look perfectly average. You could pass a hundred vampires on the street and not even realize until they wanted you to. Safety in secrecy. Not that most of them know the first thing about keeping secrets anymore. We have lawyers for that sort of thing. Not to mention all the attempts at a hostile takeover. And I do mean hostile." He held up one leg, toes pointed. His toenails had been painted black just like his fingernails but now they were chipped. They were all chipped. "Many of them don't like me either. They're all so traditional. So old. I'm not even a child to them. Less than that. They tolerate me because my family can and will tear out the throats of anyone that disrespects us."
He snapped his teeth at Morgan in illustration. That was one of the few benefits to growing up the way he had, where he had. There was no higher power for him than family. No law greater. They might be stifling but he still loved them all the same. They took care of each other. And he missed them.
"My family is going to shit themselves when they realize what happened," he whispered. If they hadn't already realized. He'd carved out plenty of hiding places in the compound over the years but it was only a matter of time. He'd left behind his car, his phone, anything they could use to track him. It had seemed so fucking smart at the time.
"What happened?"
Ezra jumped at the sound of Morgan's voice.
"Nothing. Nothing at all."
4
Morgan woke to the sound of a scream so loud it rattled the windows. He followed it wearily to the door of the cabin. It hung open and an icy draft blew through and wrapped around him, plucking at his bare toes. Outside, just beyond the tree line, a dark shape struggled in the snow. It took a minute for him to identify it as the vampire. He'd fallen into a thigh-high drift and a tree had dumped more on top, partially burying him. He was still floundering by the time Morgan pulled on boots and a coat to make his way over.
"Having fun?" he asked. He cupped his hand around a yawn. The sky was a clear, crisp blue overhead and his breath drifted away like clouds.
"No." Ezra sat up in the well he'd made, legs sprawled, the toes of his ridiculous shoes wearing little snowy caps. He was definitely pouting.
"So I guess you really are stranded here. Unless some kind soul drives you into town."
"I can walk. Thank you." The jutting lower lip and scowl shouldn't have been as pretty as it was. Not when Morgan knew full well that he was looking at a monster. A well-behaved monster. A monster that looked adorable buried in the snow. But still a monster.
Morgan held out a hand to hoist him up. "You can walk but you're not. Why?"
Ezra glared at him, but eventually he set his hand in Morgan's and let himself be towed to his feet. He swept all the snow off that he could, moving in quick angry jerks. Shook the droplets from his wild hair. When he'd finished, he sauntered back towards the house. "I have my reasons."
"Is one of them to make sure I never get a good night's sleep again? Because if it is, you're doing really well so far."
The look the vampire shot him over his shoulder was sly. "It's possible." His gaze lingered on Morgan a second too long before he turned and mounted the steps. Judging by his swagger, he knew exactly where Morgan was looking.
"YOU'VE HAD YOUR CHANCE to be nosy. Now it's mine. Why are you here?" Ezra asked, chin propped on folded hands as he watched the hunter putter about gathering wood to make a fire.
Morgan stood momentarily frozen. "Me?" Several expressions crossed his face in quick succession, but Ezra could read none of them. He wondered if there was even a name for some of them. Maybe they were things that could only belong to this man in this place at this time and never again. The thought had a certain romantic appeal. "This is my vacation," was all Morgan said before he dropped to his knees beside the fireplace with his burden of firewood and took out a match to light it.
Ezra's eyes stayed trained on his back. Morgan's shirt stretched tight between broad shoulder blades. The back of his jeans dipped as he crouched. Ezra didn't have a type, not really, but when he looked it was usually at hands, at eyes and mouths and attitudes that said they knew what to do with him. He'd been half starved at the time but Ezra could still feel the echo of the hunter's hands on him when they fought. The control in them. The strength. They couldn't have broken him, but they had handled his body like a shard of glass, dangerous yet fragile. Ezra wouldn't mind seeing what else they could do.
With him.
To him.
But for that he needed time. He wasn't sure he had it.
Ezra had sensed something in the woods last night. Searching. It moved too fast to be human. His kidnappers had implied that they answered to someone higher, probably another clan, which meant they were unlikely to give up the hunt for him so easily. The snow might hamper their searches just as it had kept
Ezra confined to the cabin, but it wouldn't protect him forever. He should get word to his family. It was the sensible thing to do.
He didn't want to be sensible. He didn't want to be the damsel they rescued from himself again and again. This sort of chance might never come again. He wanted to take it. Risks and all.
Ezra worried at his lip.
Morgan held his hands up before the fire, wood in the grate popping cheerfully as it caught. A little noise of pleasure rumbled in his throat.
A vacation, he had said. Ezra had never had one of those either. Not as a human might understand the term anyway. With his family ever hovering, every day felt a little the same. Only locations changed.
"It's a little lonely though, isn't it?" Ezra said, mouth moving on its own.
"Maybe that's what I like about it."
"You don't sound sure."
"And you suddenly know me so well, huh?" He shifted to look at Ezra, face only a thin veneer of amusement over the real irritation beneath.
"I know enough. You're here in the middle of nowhere, with me your mortal enemy, instead of your human home with your human family celebrating your human holidays. Isn't that what most people do?"
"Holidays are overrated," Morgan grumped. But he wouldn't meet Ezra's eye. He stood, brushing off his knees.
Maybe it took one runaway to recognize another.
Ezra pulled his legs beneath him and sat up. "I'm sorry. I suspect that was rude."
A thin smile cracked through Morgan's frown. "Little bit. Since you're handing out apologies, does that mean I get one for the hole in my arm now too?"
"No. But if you ask nicely, I could kiss it all better." His lips curved up into a perfect bow as he batted his eyelashes.
Morgan paused in the process of walking around the couch so Ezra took the chance to move closer, crawling over the cushions that separated them. It wasn't subtle. He didn't want it to be. His aim was the exact opposite of subtle.
The hunter cleared his throat. "You—you're a lot different from what I expected."
"So you keep saying. I'm prepared to take that as a compliment." Ezra reached out slowly, waiting for the hunter to stop him as Ezra's fingers grazed the back of his hand, his wrist, and moved higher.
"I think it might be." Morgan's eyes dropped to where Ezra touched him. He didn't move away. Didn't pull the knife they both knew he had. That seemed like a dramatic improvement in their relationship already. Ezra leaned further forward until he could just smell all the little scents that made up the hunter, skin and snow and the chocolate from earlier. And blood. Blood and chocolate were quickly becoming his favorite combination.
His grip was loose as he lifted the hunter's hand. He turned it to expose the calloused palm for his kiss. The first brush of his lips was answered by a low noise like something lodged in the hunter's throat. At the glide of Ezra's tongue, barely tasting, the sound grew louder, a fractional rise in the tone that made anticipation curl low in Ezra's belly. It slithered through him, sinking lower as he moved up along the hunter's arm. His lips brushed the blue veins at Morgan's wrist. The bandage on his forearm came away with hardly a tug.
Ezra had made a mess. It dimmed the pleasure of the moment, turned it cold, until he lowered his mouth to the ragged wound.
The hunter's opposite hand fisted tight in his hair. It held him in place. "No."
Ezra tipped his head against the hold just to feel the tug and prickle of control before he stilled again. A moan curled on his tongue. "Let me. Please," he breathed. "I can fix it."
The fingers in his hair flexed. Then slowly, slowly unclenched in silent permission. But when the hunter dropped his hand, Ezra pulled it back and guided it back into his hair. His raised his eyes to Morgan's and nodded. He didn't have to say the words. Pull it. Then he bent to lap at the wound with a flat tongue. One long swipe to warm the skin and then another. Moving from the wrist and up almost to the elbow, sucking a little to bring the blood back to the surface so he could seal the gash as he hadn't before. The taste of blood and salty skin filled his mouth. His eyes fluttered shut. The skin knit together as he kissed and sucked, red healing to pink, until there was nothing left but a faint scar. He licked a stripe over the whole of it just to be sure. When he'd finished, his lips rested against the pulse, breath fanning over warmed skin.
"Fuck, that was..."
Ezra had to agree. His breathing was slow and peaceful but his heart and mind were racing with need. Morgan's hand still rested on his head, absently carding through his hair. Little tugs setting off a tidal wave of shivers. He wanted more. Not with the desperate longing of hunger. He wanted this moment of peace to last, to stretch on and on until he'd had his fill. Just to stay this way.
Morgan gasped faintly, as if coming back to himself. He pulled his arm from Ezra's grasp. The hand in Ezra's hair slowly traced the path from the crown of his head to the nape of his neck before coming to rest beneath his chin. He tipped Ezra's face up until their eyes met.
Neither spoke. Ezra barely remembered how.
The only words he knew were more and please. Please more. Dear gods, more.
He shifted forward. A fraction of an inch.
It was an inch too much. The hunter stiffened and then he shot past Ezra and out into the cold, leaving the door hanging open behind him and leaving Ezra with no words at all.
SHIT.
Shit.
What was he doing?
The wind was cold on Morgan's neck, already chewing through his shirt to freeze him solid because he hadn't even stopped to grab a coat before he ran. Again. He regretted it the second his boots hit snow, but he needed the space or he was going to explode. He was already so close it hurt.
Everything around him was snowy beauty, sparkling sun making the world look like it had been doused in glitter, and he had nearly fucked a vampire on the floor of his idyllic winter cabin.
Granted he hadn't asked yet if fucking was on the table—possibly literally—but something told him it was. He should have more objections to this eventuality than imminent rug burn. Wait, not rug burn. There weren't enough rugs for that. Floor burn?
He growled and scrubbed his hands through his hair.
Shit.
But this was who he was, wasn't it? The one who couldn't be happy in his family's happiness. The one who couldn't fall into line. The one who had to be different. The one who was still thinking about the filthy wonderful way it had felt a moment ago as Ezra worshiped him with nothing but lips and tongue and the way it would feel to strip him down to the skin and see if all the movies were right about how good fucking a vampire could be.
They were supposed to be enemies, weren't they? Mortal enemies, Ezra had said. Morgan's family would agree with that assessment. If they had a gospel, that was it. Find the monster, kill the monster. Nowhere in there did it say to suck the monster's dick.
But he was going to.
Morgan turned back towards the cabin and almost fell on his ass. Again.
Ezra stood right behind him, face twisted up into a snarl like death. For a fraction of a second, Morgan was almost afraid. But then he noticed the misty eyes and the tremble in those parted lips. What a strange vampire to be crying over a human.
"What the fuck was that?" Ezra jabbed a finger into Morgan's chest, forcing him back one step, then another as he advanced. "I thought something was happening between us and then you just—you just left me. What was that? If you don't want me then just say so or something instead of... running away..." He gasped, breathing shaky. One hand scrubbed at his cheek. He looked away with a huff, arms folded over his chest, and Morgan caught sight again of the mark on the side of his neck, the faint shadow of a bruise. His eyes narrowed. What had caused it? He wanted to know but now wasn't the time. Ezra might really bite him if he asked.
Instead he cupped the vampire's cheek. Or tried to. The touch was knocked away faster than he could see. It left his hand stinging.
"Come here," he said.
"No."
<
br /> Morgan raised an eyebrow at the petulant tone and the sneer. He stepped forward to meet him instead, daring Ezra with his eyes. The vampire stared back. Unmoving. Eyes a wild tangle of emotion. They were so close their breath mingled in the frigid air, forming one big cloud of fog. Ezra's heels were rapidly sinking into the snow but he was still a few inches taller. Morgan had to look up to look him in the eye. Despite all that there was something small and eager about him. He'd all but purred earlier while he'd been bent over Morgan's arm. It was hotter than it had any business being. That look would haunt him to his grave if he didn't do something. Now.
So he kissed him.
Ezra made a small, high noise of surprise and then, as if that was all he had needed, he molded his body to Morgan's, arms coming up around his neck. He could have thrown Morgan across the clearing, but his touch was soft. Fingers inched tentatively up into his hair.
When Morgan pulled away, Ezra swayed forward, blinking lazily. One hand stayed twisted into Morgan's collar as if fearing he might disappear if he was let go.
"I do want you," Morgan said softly.
"You do?" Hope flared in his eyes.
"You're not gonna mist away on me again, are you?"
"No."
"Good."
Ezra's eyes narrowed. "Why?"
"Because I was planning to do this." Ezra was surprisingly light as Morgan hoisted him off his feet and over his shoulder. He'd always wanted to try doing that, but nowhere in his imaginings had it ever been a vampire he was carrying away. It startled a noise out of the vampire, his legs kicking reflexively as he tipped upside down. Morgan swatted his ass gently. "Don't move or I might drop you."
He was answered with a breathy little groan. He took that as agreement.
Ezra's boots dripped slush down Morgan's front, but it was hard to mind when it came with mile long legs and the sounds Ezra didn't even seem to realize he was making like quiet pleas.