Hunger Pangs

by Joy Demorra

  He could only hope his mask hid the worst of the heat rushing to his face.

  “Vlad, hurry up,” Riya urged impatiently from her spot on the cleared dance floor. “We’re waiting.”

  “What are we starting with?” Vlad called back.

  Riya glanced at Nathan.

  “Military-two-step ought to be easy enough,” the werewolf answered her unspoken question.

  As the musicians readied their instruments, Vlad said in a resigned tone, “Right. Let’s get this ritual humiliation over with.” He extended a hand, expecting Riya to take it, but to his consternation, Kitty slid in front of him and presented her back to him, hands poised. “You can’t be serious,” Vlad demanded.

  Kitty gave him an arch look over her shoulder. “I pride myself on many things, Viscount. And my inability to take anything seriously is one of them. But if you don’t take my hand right this instant and finish the dance we started several months ago, I will pout in your general direction for the rest of the evening.”

  “Harsh words.” Nathan stepped up to take Riya’s hand.

  “I would have thought you’d had enough dances with me to last you a lifetime,” Vlad said as he slotted his arm into place around Kitty’s slender waist while the music warmed up, the wheeze of an accordion that had been procured from somewhere making itself known.

  “Hardly. Besides, Captain Northland mentioned that these dances speed up, and the last couple standing wins.” She grinned up at him. “And I fully intend to win.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Riya called over her shoulder.

  “I’ve got four hundred years of dance experience,” Vlad countered. “I think we have a fighting chance.”

  “Just try to keep up.” Nathan grinned wolfishly below his mask. “But don’t feel too bad if you have to bow out. We all know you’re getting on in years.”

  Vlad glared at him, then looked down at Kitty. “We’re winning,” he told her firmly. Kitty nodded, took his other hand, and held on as the music began. Despite himself, Vlad soon found he was enjoying himself as he hopped from heel to toe, spinning around every third step while twirling Kitty under his arm as the dancers moved in a circle around the room.

  They moved seamlessly into the next dance, enjoying a more stately waltz called the Lorehaven Slip, before plunging headlong back into another dance with the alarmingly provocative name of Strip the Werewolf that involved swapping partners and a great deal of spinning. The reel continued to increase in speed, whipping the dancers into a whirlwind frenzy of shrieking laughter as they stumbled to catch their next partner.

  Vlad was only vaguely aware of the Grosskopf twins dancing by him in quick succession, followed by Rev, then Hannah, who gave him an arch look as Vlad passed her off to the next set of waiting hands. Kitty—the only human somehow still standing—fell into his arms next, her dark eyes sparkling as she spun to grab her next partner but collided with them instead. There wasn’t even time to apologize before Kitty and Riya hurried away, laughing. Suspicions rising, Vlad turned to find himself subject to Nathan’s toothy grin.

  “Nathan,” Vlad warned, holding a finger out as the werewolf gave a mock bow, his fingers flexing as he stepped toward Vlad with a look that could only be accurately described as predatory. “I—”

  Vlad didn’t get to finish his sentence—or even really start it—before powerful hands clamped around his waist, lifting him from the ground. Exhilarated and more than a little turned on, he barely noticed the onlookers laughing, clapping, and stamping along to the increasingly irregular beat as the world whirled past him. A roar of blood rushed to his ears, a pulse of pure, unfettered arousal throbbing through him when he realized he was all but weightless in Nathan’s grasp. He stopped breathing altogether when Nathan adjusted his grip and pulled Vlad in tighter as the reel wound down; the piping piccolos gave up the ghost, leaving the fiddlers and the wheezing accordion to play them out in one last defiant chord before deflating in a cacophony of twanging strings and distressed bellows. Deprived of their momentum, the few dancers left standing staggered to an unsteady halt.

  “And that,” Nathan said, still holding onto Vlad like he had no intention of letting him go, “is a proper dance.”

  Laughing shakily, Vlad untangled himself from Nathan’s grasp and coughed as he doubled over, bracing himself on knees that threatened to buckle. “Oh, fuck me,” he gasped, not sure if he was swearing or pleading. “I can feel my heart.” He coughed again, pressing a hand to his chest. “I’m not sure it’s supposed to be doing that.”

  Nathan tsked at him, pushing his mask up to wipe the sleeve of his jacket over his sweaty brow. “Honestly, what’s the point of eternal youth if you can’t keep pace with a simple dance?”

  “That is not a dance,” Vlad countered, grasping for the champagne bowl some kind soul pushed into his hands. “That is an incentive to riot.”

  Nathan chuckled, a gravelly sound that did nothing at all to help the situation going on south of Vlad’s waist.

  “Viscount?”

  Vlad jumped, clutching his hand to his chest again. “Swithin,” he hissed, fumbling to catch the crystal glass as it returned from orbit. “Don’t do that.”

  “Sorry, sir. But it’s almost midnight. We ought to head up to the roof for the—”

  “Fireworks! Right, yes. Everyone!” he called, still ridiculously out of breath. “If you’d like to make your way up to the rooftops, we will begin the Hallows’ Eve fireworks display. Just as soon as I remember how to breathe. And walk, and… you know what, I’ll meet you up there.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  As an icy wind buffeted the rooftop garden, Nathan took a moment to enjoy the feel of the cool night air against his overheated face. He’d lost sight of Riya and Kitty somewhere on the stairs, but truthfully, he was glad for this moment alone to collect his thoughts. He could still feel the press of Vlad’s slender frame under his hands, smell the spicy scent of his cologne thick in his nostrils, and imagine the ghosts of his hands clutching at his biceps. The startled look that had flickered over the vampire’s face when Nathan had lifted him from the ground—like a fawn sensing the wolf behind the trees—was also irrevocably burned into the backs of his eyelids. But it had all been worth it to see that smile up close and feel the weight of the vampire in his arms—even if it would be the only time Nathan would ever get to do so.

  His thoughts were rudely interrupted by the hiss of a firework being launched, quickly followed by another and another. The barrage seemed endless as they cracked open against the velvet black sky in a violent display of colors which drained the heat from Nathan’s body and left him quaking.

  Bhalein swam before his eyes. The shouts of his soldiers, the cries of the enemy. Guns and bombs and explosions galore. Nathan ducked. Pain pierced his shoulder. A bullet?

  There was so much smoke, so much smoke and debris everywhere…

  He needed to get away. He needed—

  Cool fingers slipped around his clenched fist, leading him from the roof. Nathan blindly followed. His gaze was fixed on the flagstones beneath his feet. Dark spots danced in his vision. Oh, yes. Breathing. He gasped. The air was tainted with smoke. A quiet mewl escaped his lips. The world felt small. A door opened, and a wave of hot air smelling of damp earth washed over him. The shock of it was enough to startle him out of whatever spiral he’d been falling into. Bemused, Nathan gaped at the luscious green palm leaves obscuring the glass dome of the hothouse roof, the booms of the fireworks muffled under the steady drone of some sort of apparatus pumping steam into the room.

  “—all right? Nathan?”

  Nathan blinked as Vlad’s concerned features swam into focus. “Sorry, what did you say?”

  “I said, are you all right? You looked… unwell,” the vampire said tactfully, his eyes darting to the side when Nathan stared at him for too long.

  “I’m…” Nathan drew in a shuddering breath, realizing what had happened. Battle sickness, the physicians had called it
. Every soldier had it to some degree, though few talked about it. Nathan had thought the worst of his waking nightmares were over, but apparently they were not. “Sorry,” he said. He attempted to drag his hands through his hair but was brought up short by the ridiculous wolf mask. Ripping it away, the mask dropped near his feet. Instinctively, he reached inward to make sure the real wolf was still there. It was. Starting to feel better, he glanced up, his eyes locking with Vlad’s. Embarrassment and a whole slew of other emotions he didn’t want to put a name to flooded through him. He turned away. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to… I should go.”

  “It’s all right.” Vlad leaned in close enough that Nathan could smell his cologne again, warm and comforting. “Hey.” He snapped his fingers under Nathan’s nose, and Nathan focused on his face again. “It’s all right; it happens. Okay? You don’t have to hide… that… from me.” He smiled sadly, and Nathan knew on some level the vampire understood. “You’re not the only one here with a head full of broken glass.”

  Nathan regarded him for several long moments, then nodded, some of the tension easing in his chest.

  Taking Nathan’s hand and leading him through the greenhouse, Vlad said, “Come on, let’s get you some water.”

  Grateful, Nathan followed him, happy to be led wherever Vlad wanted to take him. The presence of so much greenery was also soothing, and Nathan breathed in deeply, filling his lungs with the clean smell of rich, dark earth and exotic flora. The last time he’d seen plants like these, he’d been in Steocidell where the arid desert climate gave way to wet jungle swamplands—the kind of place where sleek big cats lurked in the trees and could give even a werewolf a run for their money. The greenhouse was truly a staggering accomplishment. “How do you get any of these to grow here?” he asked, his fingers brushing against the orange petal of a flower he didn’t know the name of.

  “Steam,” Vlad replied, his boots crunching over the gravel path as they wound their way through the luscious flora. He gestured overhead to the giant pipes that crisscrossed the glass dome, the source of the rumbling noise that surrounded them. “It helps keep the temperature where it needs to be, and I’m able to simulate the sun during winter with quartz lamps. Took me nearly fifty years to build. Don’t ask how much it cost. I’m still not done paying for it.”

  “Yeah,” Nathan exhaled, his eyes roaming, trying to be everywhere at once. It felt so green and alive. The whole place was a sensory experience; Nathan could see why Vlad loved it. He started at the sight of a familiar blue-petaled plant. “Are those lunar orchids?”

  Vlad, who had come to a halt at a workstation in the center of the conservatory, turned to look at him. The corner of his mouth lifted in a curious smile. “Yes, they are. How did you know that?”

  “The Maharajah of Gahana used to grow them. I never saw them in full bloom, but I could always smell them. It’s like… chocolate, almost. I didn’t think they could survive outside of Steocidell.”

  “They can’t,” the vampire informed him just a touch smugly as he handed Nathan a glass of crystal-clear water. “Not unless you know what you’re doing. Although they’re not strictly true lunar orchids. I crossbred the original plant with blood orchids several decades ago. Which I now realize I shouldn’t have told you, because blood orchids are still technically illegal…”

  Nathan let out a shaky bark of laughter. He crouched down in front of the flowers Vlad had indicated. They were so dark as to almost be black, the petals curling inward on themselves like folded bat wings. “Well, I’m afraid I left my cuffs in my other jacket, so I’ll have to let you off with a warning.”

  “Shame, I’ve never been handcuffed before. It might have made for a fun experience.”

  “Oh, I find that hard to believe,” Nathan murmured, mentally slapping himself for how flirty it sounded. He busied his wayward mouth by taking a sip of water.

  Arching a quizzical brow at him, Vlad asked, “Which part? That I’ve never been handcuffed before? Or that it might be fun?”

  Nathan shook his head, his brain searching for a safer topic of conversation—one that didn’t involve mental imagery of the pretty vampire with his hands bound behind his back. “Why are they illegal?” he asked instead. “Are they poisonous?”

  Vlad shrugged and resumed his rummaging around on the bench. “Most plants are if you don’t know what you’re doing.” He paused and thought about it. “Or if you do, I suppose. I mostly use them to make perfumes.”

  “Mostly?”

  Vlad treated him to an impish smile that did strange things to the dark places in Nathan’s soul. “Ah, now that really would be telling.”

  Nathan snorted, pushing up off his haunches only to be brought up short by the feeling of heavy vines falling over his shoulder. He tried to brush them away and stilled instantly when they tightened. “Uh… Vlad?”

  Seeing his predicament, the vampire sighed and set down his tools. “Now, Rosa, you know better than that. Come on, let him go.” Nathan remained frozen as Vlad gently untangled the thorny vines from around his shoulders. “Captain Northland is a friend, not food,” he told the plant, completely unperturbed as the vines coiled possessively around him instead.

  “What is that?” Nathan asked when his heart climbed down from his throat.

  “Dardanos Rosa,” Vlad replied.

  Delving into what little he remembered of Ancient Ecrecian, Nathan guessed, “Devouring Rose?”

  “She’s a sweetheart, really. Except for Rook, for some reason. He’s the local florist, nice chap, but Rosa absolutely hates him. She seems to like you, though.” Vlad waited patiently as the vines unwound from around his arm and snaked their way onto a wrought iron trellis. “But I’m afraid she’s been a little lonely since the male plant died.”

  “What happened to it?”

  “She throttled it. Bit of a shame, really. It means she’ll never bloom again.”

  “Can’t you find another?” Nathan asked.

  The vampire gave a soft laugh that was more sad than amused. “Not in this life, I’m afraid. I brought her with me when we fled Blutveria. She’s the last of her kind. There is no other rose quite like Rosa.”

  “Shame,” Nathan said, but he couldn’t help but feel more than a little relieved. Especially when the vines turned back toward him, waggling with a level of sentience that didn’t belong on anything so green and thorny.

  He focused on Vlad’s workstation, eyeing the equipment on display. There was your usual array of standard gardening tools and a set of wicked-looking shears. But it was the glass vials that drew his attention. Nathan lifted one of them up, peering at the illegible scrawl of handwriting along the side. “I used to be a scout, back in the day.”

  “Yes, I think General Howlzein said something about that.”

  “They had me track a man down using his cologne once. Gave me quite a headache in the spice market, but I managed it. It was the orange water that gave him away. Orange and lilacs.”

  “Really? I had no idea werewolf noses were that good.”

  “Not all of them,” Nathan smiled. “Just some.”

  “Well, here then.” Vlad plucked the vial from Nathan’s fingers and broke the wax seal on top. “See if you can name what’s in there.”

  Nathan gave him an arch look. “Do I get a treat if I guess them all?”

  “If you like.” Vlad shrugged, a sly smile spreading over his face. “It is Hallows’ Eve, I suppose.”

  Nathan set his glass of water down and lifted the vial to his nose. Most bottled scents were potent enough to make his eyes water, but this one was surprisingly subtle. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply.

  “Oil of olive,” he said, naming the base and tilting his head to the side as he tried to chase down the individual scents. “Frankincense, myrrh, amber, clove… Small green plant with purple flowers, looks like mint and onion had a baby…”

  “Patchouli,” the vampire supplied helpfully, sounding amused.

  “Some sort of musk.” He inhaled ag
ain, savoring the headiness of it, scrunching his eyes up in concentration. “Deer?”

  “Oh, very good.” Vlad sounded genuinely impressed.

  Nathan felt the wolf’s tail in the back of his mind want to wag. To cover—and because he was confident he’d solved the entire problem—he handed the vial back to Vlad.

  “But you missed one.”

  “Oh?” Nathan asked, feeling unnecessarily surly at being duped by a bottle of perfumed oil. “What did I miss?”

  “Oh, come now, Captain, I would have thought that was obvious.” The vampire flickered past him, lightning-quick, only to reappear directly in front of him a moment later. With gentle hands he affixed a single scarlet bloom to the buttonhole of Nathan’s lapel. “Rose, of course.”

  “Of course,” Nathan echoed, all too aware of his heart thudding in his chest, the scent of Vlad’s hair and cologne near enough he could taste it on his tongue. It would be so easy to reach out again and pull him close. So easy…

  “Fancy a nightcap?” Vlad asked, stepping back out of reach. “I’ve got a bottle of seventy-eight Cognac back in my tower.”

  “Which century?” Nathan asked, his heart doing a backflip when Vlad turned around and graced him with a rare open smile.

  “Good question. Let’s find out.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  “This tower is the same wing as my quarters,” Nathan commented, his deep voice bouncing off the stone walls as they climbed. “Does it go down to the dungeons?”

  “It does.”

  “That’s handy. Makes it easier to find my way home when the only direction is down.”

  Vlad smiled ruefully. “I warned you. The people who built this place were designing a labyrinth. It took me a full year to stop getting lost when we first arrived. I still get turned around in the catacombs.”

  “Yes, I was surprised to learn about those.” Nathan sounded deliberately nonchalant, as someone might when they found out a castle inhabited by vampires was built atop a giant necropolis.