by Joy Demorra
“Before they were thrown off the land to make room for a vampire colony? Yes, I know. My mother’s people were among them.”
“Well, this is painfully awkward,” Vlad said cheerfully, willing the floor to open up and swallow him whole. “I’ll just tell myself to piss off then, shall I?”
Nathan shook his head and gave Vlad a droll look. “What did you find?”
“Well, according to this, the waters were thought to have healing properties. There’s stories going as far back as the twelfth century, all sorts of stuff about miracles and mass healings after bathing in the hot springs.”
“Huh.” Nathan flipped the pages of the book with interest. “I wonder why…”
Vlad shrugged. “Magic, possibly. Although more probably the mineral content. I don’t know if you’ve noticed it yet, but we don’t use compasses here. It’s all the basalt we’re built on. The high quantities of magnetite in it sends compasses spinning off their axes. It makes for remarkably hard water too,” Vlad said, idly scratching the side of his cheek, drifting into distant memory. “We had to strain the drinking water through socks when we first arrived. And then the socks were smelted down for spare parts.”
“Why would iron heal a werewolf, though?” Nathan wondered.
Vlad shrugged. “Maybe it’s something else in the rocks. But I thought it was interesting. And the hot springs still exist. The castle is right on top of one. If you wanted to, I don’t know. Try,” Vlad finished lamely, aware of how ridiculous he sounded. Like a sixteenth century charlatan pushing the benefits of drinking hot sea water for the benefit of the humors.
But Nathan merely nodded. “Thank you, I’ll consider it.”
The silence between them had just grown comfortable when Vlad decided to ruin it. “Have you, um, tried to shift at all? I know it’s been less than a day since the surgery, but you know…”
Nathan shook his head. “No. It’s…” He drew in a deep breath, letting it out in a vulnerable shudder as he pushed the book away. “It’s too much to hope for.”
Vlad didn’t tell him he understood, because there was no way that he could. He’d never lost a part of himself before—at least, not any part of him that mattered. “That’s understandable,” he said, hesitating. “Although I suppose you won’t have much choice next week.” When Nathan continued to stare blankly at him, he said, “It’s the full moon.”
“Oh,” he said, his eyes falling toward what looked like a roster on his desk. “Shit.” Nathan sighed, leaned back in his chair, and covered his eyes with both hands. “Well… I suppose I had to face it eventually. Now I just need to figure out how.”
“How what?”
“How I’m going to deal with this.”
Vlad cocked his head curiously to the side. “How do you normally deal with it? Doesn’t it just… happen?”
“It does, usually. But I also usually take steps to make sure I’m not in a densely populated area when it does.” He glanced at Vlad, as though debating how much to tell him. “We don’t go mad. That isn’t a thing.”
Vlad, who had definitely heard of lunar madness, and had absolutely thought it was a thing, replied, “I didn’t think it was.”
“But it does make us… stupid isn’t the right word either. You’re still you, in fact you’re even more yourself, but it’s like your humanity takes a backseat to the animal part of the brain and you’re just along for the ride.”
“And animals are less in control and more likely to be spooked by, say, large populaces who might be prone to screaming at the appearance of a bloody great wolf,” Vlad finished for him.
Nathan nodded. “Exactly. It’s why we stay away from Ingleton, to be honest. Not enough forest left to accommodate monthly changes.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Vlad murmured, wondering what happened to werewolves who did live in the city. Were there any? Or had they all headed North to the sanctuary of the forests? “Well, what do they do in the army? They must have had a solution.”
Nathan’s smile turned brittle, his tone deceptively calm. “They kept us in cages.”
Vlad opened his mouth, then wisely shut it again. “I see. Well, that’s… clearly not an option. Not unless you want to move all those potatoes out of the cell by yourself.”
“Actually, I’ve been meaning to bring that up.”
“Yes, I’m sure you have,” Vlad replied, hurrying the conversation along. “Oh, I know. You could go to the Blackwoods.”
“The Blackwoods?”
“It’s the forest just outside of town; hardly anyone ever goes out that way. Especially not at night.”
“Why do I get the feeling you’re leaving out some ominous disclaimer, like ‘not if they want to come back alive’?” Nathan asked.
“The woods may or may not be haunted. Okay, they are definitely haunted,” he said with a defensive shrug when Nathan continued to stare. “But they’re harmless, I swear. I used to take Riya for walks in them when she was a child, and she claims to have been only very mildly scarred for life.”
“You’re really selling the idea.” The werewolf shook his head wryly. “So, let’s see, my choices are…” He held a hand up. “Moving a metric ton of root vegetables out of the cell and potentially turning into a wolf in front of the people I work with. Or.” He raised his other hand. “Standing naked and alone in a haunted forest and potentially not turning into a wolf.” His eyes took on a slightly glazed look as he weighed the two options. “Great.”
“Well… I could go with you,” Vlad’s mouth said before his brain had a chance to intervene. “If you want company, that is. That way if… if things don’t work out, you won’t be on your own. I’m good at being distracting. People complain about it all the time.”
Nathan chuckled. “And if I do change, what then?”
“What about it?”
“You’re saying you’d be fine with being alone in a haunted forest with a moon-addled werewolf?” Nathan asked, arching an eyebrow at him.
“You just said you don’t go mad!”
“I don’t, but I’ve also never been around a vampire at that time of the month either.”
Which was a fair point, Vlad conceded. Vampires and werewolves had been (im)mortal enemies since time immemorial. No one could remember why, but there had to be a reason. Perhaps it was just in the blood.
“I’m flattered by your concern, Captain,” Vlad said, affecting his best air of mock sincerity, “but I assure you I can take care of myself.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.” Vlad gestured vaguely, exasperated by Nathan’s dogged persistence. “I’ll climb a tree or something. Wolves can’t do that.”
“You’ll climb a tree,” Nathan echoed on the verge of genuine laughter.
Vlad pounced. “I’ll have you know I was a champion climber in my youth.” He jabbed a finger on the edge of the table. “I might not be a spry young thing in my early hundreds anymore, but I’ll wager ten pounds I can still give you a run for your money.” And if it came to it, he could use the shadows to get away. The werewolf couldn’t very well get to him if he wasn’t solid.
Nathan laughed openly, a deep rumbling sound that made warmth bloom in the empty pit of Vlad’s chest where his heart ought to be. He clamped down on the feeling, simultaneously wanting to hold onto it and smother it out of existence. It was all too easy for Vlad to lose himself inside other people, folding himself up into whatever shape or form they desired—whether it was good for him or not. Elizabeth had derided him for it even while using it to her advantage, and while Vlad didn’t know what Nathan’s inclinations were, he could already feel himself wanting to sink into the warmth of the personality slowly unfolding before him, wrapping himself up in that easy, dry humor and the razor-sharp mind he suspected lay behind those chiseled features and soft brown curls.
And perhaps Elizabeth was right; perhaps he wasn’t strong enough to be a whole person on his own. But he thought it might be nice to have a new friend, and
he suspected Nathan felt the same way.
Hoped so, at least.
“I’ll think about it,” the other man said when he stopped laughing.
“Well, my offer stands.” Vlad shoved his medical kit back into his satchel. When Nathan offered him the heavy tome, Vlad shook his head. “Keep it. You might find something useful in it that I missed.”
“I doubt it, but thank you,” Nathan said, placing the book back on his desk. His fingers traced the outline of the gilded text on the front. “Viscount, I—”
“Vlad,” Vlad reminded him. “I think we can both agree we’re past those particular formalities. I believe we even shook on it, last night.”
“Did we? I don’t remember…”
“That’s normal. Most people seem to forget the night before when I’m involved.” Vlad’s heart would have beat faster—if it still beat at all—when the werewolf laughed again.
“Vlad,” he said deliberately, his gaze settling on Vlad like a physical weight. “I just wanted to say thank you, again. For… all of this. Even if this is all I get, it’s more than I ever dared hope for.”
“You’re welcome,” Vlad said, reaching over to shake Nathan’s extended hand. “Well, I’ll stop bothering you and let you get back to work.”
“You’re not bothering me,” Nathan said. “Please, feel free to drop by any time. I can honestly say I enjoy your company.”
“I will.” Vlad inclined his head, aware that his ears were glowing again but entirely too pleased with himself to care.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The morning of the full moon dawned especially clear and bright. Birds trilled and flitted through the skies with nary a care. It was, for all intents and purposes, the perfect day. In his room in the castle, Nathan glowered at the shafts of sunlight that eked their way through the cracks in the curtains. The springs of the bed creaked as he rolled over, settling more comfortably onto his back. Unable to shake the feeling of impending dread, he’d spent a sleepless night staring up at the ceiling, but now that the full moon was upon him, he felt strangely calm about it all.
But that wasn’t the only thing he was feeling.
Desire curled low in his belly, hot and sweet.
Nathan stifled a groan when his hand found the swell of his half-hard cock, stroking it lazily. It had been some time since he’d felt the desire to be touched like this. He’d either been too busy, too sore, or too tired. But with the return of his appetite, other hungers had begun to make themselves known, and Nathan indulged them greedily.
He squeezed his eyes shut as Vlad’s dark eyes and wry, clever smile popped into his head. He couldn’t help but breathe a little harder at the image.
There were many things he found attractive about the vampire: his sense of humor for one thing. And his shy kindness for another. But there was another part of Nathan that just wanted to take the immaculately dressed vampire and watch him come undone.
Preferably with Nathan’s name on his tongue.
The other man was just wound so tight. Nathan could feel it in the air around him. Like a coiled spring ready to fly apart at any moment—despite the practiced air of indolent indulgence the vampire projected. While that flippant façade might fool most people, Nathan could sense the raw edge of nerves behind it. Felt the way he tensed then melted at any small affectionate touch. Saw the way any scrap of praise illuminated those lovely dark eyes, softening the sharp edges of his smile.
Though, thankfully, not literally.
Nathan had been attracted to many different people over the years. He’d never questioned it. And he’d always been a sucker for a pretty smile. But there was just something about those fangs, those gleaming fangs, that really did it for him. He’d questioned it at first, chalking it up to the presence of the vampiric glamour he’d assumed was in place. But the revelation that Vlad was just that godsdamned attractive had forced him to concede that perhaps, maybe, quite possibly, he liked how dangerous they looked.
The thought sent a shiver down his spine. Nathan groaned again, stroking himself harder, twisting his fist around the slick head of his cock.
He’d always enjoyed the thrill of the chase more than crossing the finish line. Nathan would spend hours cheerfully frustrated, stoking the fires of his arousal before tempering it with denial. But between thoughts of Vlad and the need to feel grounded and centered within himself, his desire took on a sharper, hungrier edge.
One stroke.
Two.
It wasn’t long until he was bucking up into the tight circle of his fist, teetering on the cusp of release. Once again, Vlad’s visage popped into his head, this time spread naked and wanton beneath him. It was enough to shove him over the edge. Arching his back with a startled gasp, Nathan came hard enough to feel it in his toes. He lay stunned in the afterglow, unable to shake the thought of Vlad from his head.
It didn’t help that Vlad kept popping up unexpectedly in his day-to-day life too. Nathan had thought his visit to the guardhouse would be a one-off event. But now that Vlad had been invited, he seemed to drop by constantly, either visiting the hounds or calling on Nathan himself. They’d even started playing chess together up at the castle after Nathan had expressed some small skill at the game.
He tried not to read too much into the witty, flirty banter that passed between them. That just seemed to be the vampire’s default setting. But it was growing harder with every passing day not to read more into the flirtation, and Nathan found himself dangerously close to feeling something very much like longing. Gods, he was smitten.
Look at you, mooning after a vampire, Nathan thought, shaking his head. He had to laugh, though. Somehow, he had the feeling when his mother had told him to take an interest in courting again that this was not what she’d had in mind.
He lay still for several more moments, then rolled out of bed. Wiping himself down with a clean rag from his washstand, he caught sight of himself in the small shaving mirror and took a moment to reflect on his appearance. He certainly looked better; the bags under his eyes were less pronounced, and he was quickly regaining color in his cheeks. Even Fiddildy had commented on his improvement, remarking that the sea air must be doing him good. But his shoulder was where the real change had taken place.
Bracing himself, Nathan peeled back the bandages Dr. Allan had put in place the day before when the doctor had dropped by the guardhouse for a checkup. The area was still tender, and Dr. Allan had warned him it might always be. Still, it was no longer an angry open wound that refused to heal—shiny pink skin lay underneath, the edges marred by a gnarled mess of red scar tissue that was rapidly fading to white. But the reminder of his injury would never be truly gone, and Nathan was resigned to carrying the mottled scar with him for the rest of his life. But at least now that timeframe looked to be significantly longer. He rarely needed the sling since the operation. Dr. Allan had marveled at the change when he’d seen it, complimenting Nathan on his rapid regenerative abilities. Nathan hadn’t had the heart to tell him that even this progress was painfully slow compared to what it ought to have been. But considering the last year of his life, he’d take what he could get.
Realizing he could use a shave, Nathan busied himself with his morning ablutions. When he was presentable, he made his way out of the castle, passing through the guardhouse on his way to the teahouse across the road, where he was promised a slice of home for breakfast.
The proprietress, Mrs. Kairn, was a fellow Northerner, and she’d taken a shine to Nathan almost immediately. “Heart attack on a plate,” the middle-aged woman announced with a smile, placing what amounted to a fried slice of potato bread smothered in ketchup and wrapped in a breakfast roll in front of him. “An’ I got you some proper tea too,” she said as she set down a mug of tea so black and viscous it could have been mistaken for treacle. “Had my sister send it over from Lorehaven. Three sugars. Just the way you like it.”
“You’re a gift, Mrs. Kairn,” Nathan told her, crunching into his breakfast with genu
ine appreciation. If he closed his eyes and blocked out the sound of the gulls, he could almost imagine he was home.
Once he finished his breakfast, Nathan took the time to write a few letters home to his mother and younger siblings. When he was done and had dithered about town as much as he could, Nathan traipsed back up to the castle and considered his options for the rest of his day off. It wasn’t even noon yet.
The Very Nearly Complete History of the Northern Wereclans sat prominently on his nightstand. He hadn’t read any of it yet, and he had no desire to do so. But he’d promised his father, and a promise was a promise. Sighing, Nathan climbed back onto his newly made bed, made himself comfortable against the headboard, and began to read.
*
“I regret several of the life choices leading me to this moment,” Nathan announced as he came to a halt under the south arch of the city gates, where Vlad was already waiting for him. While there were torches all along the gate, the vampire had somehow found a shadow to lurk in. If it hadn’t been for the orange flare of his cigarette, Nathan wasn’t sure he would have spotted him.
The other man chuckled, a low throaty sound. “Funny, I hear that a lot. Are we ready?”
“No,” Nathan replied sullenly, contemplating his boots and resisting the urge to scuff them in the dirt. He peeked up when he felt Vlad’s hand on his shoulder, the vampire’s expression unbearably kind.
“Look, I can’t promise you this will be easy, but I can promise you extraordinary amounts of alcohol if required. Or whatever other diversion takes your fancy.”
Quashing down several of the more lurid scenarios that crossed his mind, Nathan said, “Thank you… for doing this. You really didn’t need to come.”
“You’re welcome,” Vlad replied as the pair fell into step, shoving his hands into his pockets as they walked. “I’d like to say it’s purely altruistic on my part.”