by Joy Demorra
Nathan folded his arms over his chest and glowered at them. It was a very good glower; he’d obviously put a lot of practice into it. The effect was somewhat ruined, however, by the fact that he never seemed able to keep a straight face when looking at the two of them together.
Vlad hadn’t meant to fall for Ursula. Truthfully, he hadn’t meant to fall in love with either of them. He’d spent the last two hundred years of his unlife guarding his heart against such things; nursing the shards of his broken heart and burying his loneliness beneath a façade of cheerful recklessness.
And then Nathan had walked into his life. Or more precisely, hobbled.
At the time, Vlad hadn’t any idea what he’d been letting himself in for when he’d agreed to take on an injured werewolf as Captain of the Eyrie Guard, but whatever he’d expected, it hadn’t been Captain Nathaniel J. Northland. He could still remember the first time he’d laid eyes on the other man. He’d looked so dashing in his red Imperial uniform; even with the dark shadows under his eyes, a shoulder brace to keep him upright, and freshly healed scars marring the side of his handsome face. But it had been his mannerisms that had drawn Vlad to him; the soft-spoken confidence of his smile and the kindness in his eyes, his entire being radiating a quiet and easy sort of authority that had pinged something deep within Vlad’s soul and left him weak at the knees with longing.
He’d never dreamed his affections might be returned.
Vampires and werewolves did not make for likely bedfellows in any given sense of the word. But Nathan had surprised him, and as the weeks turned into months and the month into a year, Vlad had slowly unbarred his heart and allowed himself to hope that perhaps this time things would be different… And then tragedy had struck, first when Nathan’s eldest brother had died, soon followed by the unexpected death of his father, leaving behind a void in the line of succession that only Nathan could fill.
Vlad had been brokenhearted for Nathan at the time, but also selfishly for himself as well. He’d known then that this would be the end of their relationship, even if Nathan seemingly hadn’t. He could still remember the harrowing ache that had opened up in his chest when Nathan had returned to tell him he was to be married. And the even greater pain when he’d refused to give Vlad up, and Vlad had been forced to do it for him.
And then there had been Ursula, bright fiery Ursula with her voluminous copper curls, golden-tawny eyes, and a heart so big it could swallow the ocean and still have room for all the stars. It had been quite by accident that she and Vlad had met. The look on Nathan’s face upon seeing them talking together had been priceless, though not nearly as priceless as when she’d suggested the two men keep seeing each other.
“I don’t mind the idea of sharing if you don’t,” she’d said, a beguiling smile tugging at her lips.
And Vlad had found himself surprised to find that he didn’t mind the idea at all. If sharing Nathan was what it took to be able to love him, then Vlad was willing do so. What they had not accounted for, however, was that they’d end up falling for each other as well. It had been a happy surprise, and no one had been happier than Nathan to watch his two loves fall head over heels in love for each other.
Even if they were currently ganging up on him.
“So, what do you suggest I do instead then, hmm?” He arched an eyebrow at the pair on the bed, gesturing down at himself. “I can hardly go out in my drawers.”
“Well, you could,” Ursula countered, giggling softly, “but I think you’d find it a trifle cold.”
They glanced collectively at the windows where the late November wind drove the snow up against the foggy glass pane in drifts. Ingleton was not as damp as Eyrie, but Vlad still felt the cold keenly, the chill working its way into his centuries-old bones with a dull familiar ache. He shivered reflexively, and Ursula snuggled closer to him, hooking her bronze-skinned legs over his deathly pale ones. A creature of light and fire, she was always a source of comfort and warmth, even more so than Nathan who ran hot with the blood of the wolf.
Suddenly, the idea of spending the rest of the winter in bed was vastly appealing.
“Wait,” Vlad said, a horrifying thought occurring to him, “the first winter ball at court is this Saturday. We’re all invited.”
“Yeah, so?” Nathan asked.
“Tell me you’ve got something to wear…”
“I have clothes,” Nathan said evasively after a pause.
Vlad groaned into his hands. “Nathan, love, this is your first social debut at court as a member of Parliament, and as the Wolf Lord. You’re representing both your home and all the werewolf clans this side of the Empire. You need to make a good first impression.”
“That’s what I tried to tell him,” Ursula said, blowing her ornery werewolf husband a kiss when his glower landed on her again. “Well, I did.”
“Stuff and nonsense,” Nathan muttered, reaching up to rub distractedly at the back of his neck, rolling his injured shoulder uncomfortably. His old war wounds always ached when he was stressed, and this instance was no exception as Vlad watched him reach up to tug at his left ear, fussing with the fit of the metal bracket that kept his hearing aid in place. “I really don’t see what all the fuss is about… my father never bothered with any of this.”
Vlad felt Ursula stiffen. Her lips were pursed together in a thin line—no doubt to keep from saying something unkind. He’d only met the late Lord Northland once, but once had been enough. Cantankerous and stubborn to a fault, the man’s refusal to move with the times had very nearly cost his family everything. Nathan had managed to salvage the situation, though only just.
Vlad could only imagine the things Ursula might have to say about the old wolf.
“Yes, but you’re not your father,” she reasoned instead, “you don’t have to keep trying to be.”
“I’m not…” Nathan began, then trailed off visibly uncomfortable. “Look, we all know I’m not good with… with this.” He gestured around the opulence of the hotel room and out the window towards the city beyond. “I’m a soldier. I was a soldier,” he amended quietly. “I don’t know how to fit in here.”
“A decent tailor would be a start,” Vlad tried, teasingly.
Nathan gave him a skeptical look.
“I’m serious! Look, you’re a handsome man Nathan. You are in fact, stunningly handsome. You deserve nice things and to look your best. With the right attire, you wouldn’t just fit in, you’d be head and shoulders above everyone around you. And let’s be honest here, you have a lot of height and shoulder to work with.”
The werewolf laughed softly through his nose, shaking his head. “I dunno…
“And it’s not like we’re telling you to change everything,” Ursula wheedled, holding up her thumb and forefinger and pinching them together. “Just a few small tweaks here and there…”
“Small things,” Vlad agreed, sliding Ursula’s legs out of his lap, moving up onto his knees and crawling over to the end of the bed to where Nathan was stood.
He gave only the merest token effort of resistance when Vlad pulled him forward, allowing himself to be encircled by Vlad’s arms as the vampire peered adoringly up at him. It was only somewhat exaggerated for the other man’s benefit. Partly because he knew how much Nathan liked it, but also because Vlad was truly that much in love with him. He could admit that to himself now.
“And we can start by getting rid of this gods-awful waistcoat.”
Nathan laughed again, snorting gently through his nose as his hands came to rest reflexively on the dip of Vlad’s hips, fully aware that he was being mollified through his baser instincts, but seeming not to object. “And just what do you propose we do about it?” Nathan asked, the shaggy chestnut curls of his hair falling boyishly into his piercing blue eyes in a way that never failed to make Vlad’s heart stutter. “In case you hadn’t noticed, my tailor is four hundred miles north of here.”
“Well,” Vlad said thoughtfully, tipping his head to the side, “we could always go s
ee mine. I’m sure Angelo could fit you in…”
Not to mention be positively thrilled at the chance to work with such a strong, broad canvas, he thought, keeping that particular comment to himself.
“I think that’s a splendid idea,” Ursula agreed, leaning back against the cushioned headboard in a languid stretch, causing her borrowed shirt to ride up over her hips in a tantalizing display of immodesty. Vlad felt his mouth turn dry. “It certainly wouldn’t hurt to try.”
Tearing his gaze away from her, Nathan seemed to think about it and then shook his head dismissively. “Ach, it’s all just pomp and circumstance. They can either take me as I am or lump it.”
Vlad and Ursula shared a meaningful look, and then Ursula’s expression grew sly, the corners of her mouth ticking up a notch.
“We could always take a trip down the West End while we’re at it,” she said.
Vlad felt Nathan’s posture stiffen, his grip on Vlad’s hips tightening. It wasn’t painful, but it was enough to elicit an uncomfortable squirm. He gasped a moment later when Nathan’s fingers tightened again, holding him in place.
“Vlad’s never been there,” Ursula carried on, her tone light and innocent on the surface but laden with a heavy undercurrent of temptation underneath.
Vlad watched as Nathan’s gaze swiveled down toward him again. There was a telltale bloom of warmth beginning to color his cheeks, and it sent an answering jolt of heat down Vlad’s spine. He was aware of Ursula prowling up behind him, the heat of her body pressing up against his back as her arms snaked around his front, her chin coming to rest on his shoulder, and Vlad knew the picture they must paint. He could see it in the inferno of Nathan’s darkening gaze, the grip on his hips now tight enough to leave a bruise. At least, he certainly hoped so.
“It could be our little… treat,” Ursula said, and Vlad shivered as much from her nearness as the lasciviousness of her tone. He had no idea what the West End entailed, but he was more than willing to find out.
Nathan let out a low rumbling growl of a sigh, the werewolf evidently torn between letting himself be led down the garden path by the end of his nose and wanting what was on offer on the other side.
“But I suppose, if you’re really that set against it—”
“Fine,” Nathan ground out, a smile tugging at the mulish line of his mouth that made Vlad want to kiss him. It was clear as much as Nathan hated shopping that he wanted to please the pair who held his heart more.
And Nathan was right, nothing would please Vlad more than to paint Nathan’s beautiful form in the colors and fabrics it so very much deserved. Without prompting, Vlad began envisioning just what fashions would suit his werewolf lord best. Velvet, of course. And perhaps satin with a watered-silk waistcoat. Nathan’s voice cut off Vlad’s imaginings. “But just to look, mind, and none of your frippery,” he warned, raising a cautionary finger under their noses and giving them both a meaningful stare. “Either of you. I’m not going to let you truss me up like some…” he trailed off, seeming to realize what he’d been about to say.
Vlad clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth reproachfully. “I thought you liked dandies,” he said, nipping at the offending finger in front of him and licking it better just because he could. “I distinctly remember a conversation about that.”
“I said I liked bending them over my knee,” Nathan countered gruffly, sounding decisively more strained than he had done a moment before. “I mean it, though, no nonsense…”
“All right, fine, fine,” Ursula placated him, her hands starting to wander distractingly over the front of Vlad’s chest. “No fripperies. Just some new shirts. And a couple of waistcoats. And a new coat.”
“Maybe some neckties…” Vlad added thoughtfully, wishing he had a pen and paper handy.
“What about my trousers?” Nathan asked wryly. “I can’t help but notice you haven’t mentioned those yet.”
“Oh, I think we can think of some fairly pressing reasons to get rid of them,” Ursula grinned, her laughter vibrating pleasantly through the hollow of Vlad’s chest. It was enough to make his toes curl, almost as much as the feeling of Nathan pressing up against his front. It was suddenly entirely too warm in here.
*
Crewel Intentions (Flirting with Fangs)
Crewel Intentions (Fluff and Fangs)