by Lee Colgin
“Oh, I’m not drinking.”
“Why not?”
Buffy opened his mouth to answer, but Gianni held up his hand. “And do not tell me you’re working.”
Buffy closed his mouth and looked down.
“Oh my god, are you seriously working right now? You dick.”
The slayer shook his head. “No, no. I’m really not. They don’t know I’m here. It’s just… Well, I feel like I’m always working. It’s my default state of being. I need to be sober and on guard at all times.”
“That’s pathetic.”
Buffy shrugged.
Orange Lipstick returned with their drinks.
Gianni picked his up and motioned for the slayer to do the same. Buffy’s eyebrows lifted, but he raised the glass and clinked it with Gianni’s.
“Cheers,” Gianni said.
“Wait, you can’t actually drink that.” Buffy lowered his voice to a whisper. “Vampires can’t have anything but blood.”
“Watch me.” Gianni tipped back his glass and took a swallow, warming his throat with a pleasant burn. “Now you. Bottoms up, Buffy.”
The slayer took a drink. “There. Now, are you going to explain?”
“Nope.”
“But—”
Gianni shook his head. “We’re not talking about that. Finish your drink and ask me to dance.” Gianni took another sip. It wasn’t as smooth as he liked, but loosening Buffy up would be worth it.
Buffy polished off the whiskey and hesitated.
Gianni took pity on him, holding out his hand. “Go on. It’s not as if I’ll say no.”
The slayer, a half-smile on his face, took it. “I’m not any good at this, but would you like to dance?”
“I’d be delighted.” Gianni let Buffy lead him onto the floor and had to stifle a laugh when Buffy lifted their clasped hands to shoulder height and placed his other gingerly on Gianni’s waist. Gianni had never been to a junior prom, so now was as good a time as any. He went with it, resting his hand on the Slayer’s shoulder as surely the man expected.
“This is the only type of dancing you know, isn’t it?”
“Um, yeah. Sorry.”
“You’re doing fine. Just relax and enjoy it.”
They swayed to music meant for grinding, but Gianni didn’t care. Being in their own little world was good. He stepped in close enough to feel the heat of the slayer’s body but didn’t press against it. Yet.
“You know, it’s crowded here. We’re safe…you can’t slay me…I can’t bite you.” Gianni let his fingertips trail over the soft skin on the back of the slayer’s hand. “We could dance a little closer.”
When Buffy didn’t protest, Gianni wrapped his arm around his neck and brought their chests together. Gianni could smell his aftershave, and underneath it, his natural scent. Ripe pears and honey. Buffy let it happen, but he didn’t relax, his shoulders tense under Gianni’s fingers. To distract him, Gianni asked, “Are you still reading the book?”
“I finished it.”
That was surprising. “Really? How did you like it?”
“Not what I’d normally read, though you were right. Not stuffy.”
Gianni leaned in closer. In this position, his mouth was next to the slayer’s neck. A tempting blue vein pulsed underneath the smooth skin. Gianni wanted to lick it. He wanted to do more than lick it.
“Why’d you choose it?” the slayer asked.
“Choose what?” Gianni responded, lost in his desire.
“The book. Pride and Prejudice.”
Oh, right. That. “I wanted us to have something to talk about while you’re deciding whether or not to kill me, and I’m tolerating it because, unlike you, I don’t actually kill.”
“You’re a vampire. Of course you kill.”
“No, actually, I don’t.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Gianni rolled his eyes. “Probably because you’ve killed so much you think it’s normal.”
“I don’t kill people. I kill vampires. And I don’t for one second believe you’d go hungry to preserve human life.”
“Then you’d underestimate me, but you’re right—I don’t go hungry. I also don’t have to kill to eat. None of us do. We don’t need that much blood. You have to stop believing everything they tell you.”
“You’ve never killed anyone? Not even accidentally?”
“How do you accidentally kill someone? Is that a thing?”
“I didn’t mean it like that.” The slayer backpedaled and put some distance between them.
“How many vampires have you killed?” Gianni asked.
The slayer didn’t answer. They stopped dancing.
“You’re quick to accuse me of murder, but quiet when I call you out. You’re the monster here, not me. They feed you lies, and you kill based on those lies. Not proof.” At this point, keeping his voice down was a struggle.
“Bloodless corpses aren’t proof? Dead and drained people whose faces are frozen in terror? That’s not proof? I’ve seen proof.”
“We’re not all like that.” Gianni pulled the slayer back in tight. He didn’t want to look into his eyes anymore, not when they were angry.
The dance music throbbed. A heavy silence sat between the two men, their heartbeats elevated, pounding against each other. Gianni took a deep breath and willed himself calm. Buffy copied the gesture—whether conscious or not, Gianni didn’t know.
Gianni broke the stalemate. “Why me?”
“I don’t know.”
“If they give you orders to kill me, will you do it?”
“If I had orders to kill you, you’d be dead.”
“Or you’d be.”
“I thought you didn’t kill people.”
“I’m thinking of making an exception.” Gianni nipped his earlobe, and the slayer startled, but recovered when Gianni didn’t draw blood. They continued to dance. The music changed, but their delicate sway did not. So close, and yet still so much distance.
Gianni whispered in the slayer’s ear, “I’m going to convince you not to kill me before they order you to do it. I don’t want to fight you.”
“You never answered my question.”
It was an obvious change of subject, but Gianni let it slide. Things had gotten too heated between them. “What question?”
“The book. Why’d you pick Pride and Prejudice?”
“You look like how I’ve always pictured Mr. Darcy. Tall, brown hair, green eyes. Handsome. Arrogant. Clueless. You remind me of him. That’s why I chose it for you. That, and every library is guaranteed to have a copy.”
“Clueless?” Buffy complained without any real venom.
“And handsome,” Gianni soothed.
“Can we get out of here?”
“Now you’re talking.”
“No, that’s not what—”
“Joking. Relax. Let’s go.”
They left the club for the cool night air, Gianni’s hand tucked snug in the slayer’s elbow.
If they leaned into each other, if their steps matched in rhythm—well. What a lovely coincidence.
If another slayer happened to be watching them, though, that would be a nasty break.
7
New Mission
Franklin
The ghost of Gianni’s touch lingered long after the vampire said goodnight. Franklin felt him against his chest, warm waist under his palm. He shook his head to clear it. The situation was getting out of hand. Franklin never understood why some humans found vampires alluring, until now. He liked this saucy vampire. From Gianni’s curious nature to his witty needling, to the feline motion of his hips under Franklin’s hands—all of it.
At the Foundry, Franklin joined Hutch in Darrow’s office to give his report. There was nothing to say, but the chief would expect an update. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to tell Gianni to get out while he still could. Where would that leave Franklin? He hadn’t realized how lonely he’d been until he wasn’t. He couldn’t imagine life withou
t Gianni.
“Lieutenants,” Darrow greeted from his seat behind the desk. “What do I need to know?”
Hutch eyed Franklin suspiciously, lips tight, brow raised. Holding back wasn’t like the man. Usually, he jumped at the chance to speak first, and tonight Franklin needed him to. He wanted more time to decide what to tell the chief. When neither man spoke up, Darrow chose for them.
“Denhart, report.”
Damn it.
Franklin stuck as close to the truth as he could. “I spotted Gianni at a human dance club called the Mint Lounge. I assumed he was hunting, but he left alone. I tailed him—”
“He left alone?” said Hutch.
Franklin ignored the interruption and plowed forward. “I’ve yet to see him with a donor or a kill. He must prefer to dine alone, or maybe at the Farthing, I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” Hutch sniped.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Gentlemen,” said Darrow. “Enough. What are you getting at, Wilson?”
“I saw them, sir. Leaving the club. Together.”
Franklin froze in place. He’d left the club with Gianni practically hanging off his fucking arm. His mind raced to come up with an explanation.
Hutch continued, “They were acting like they knew each other. The vampire was touching him.”
“What?” said Darrow. “Denhart, what is he talking about?”
It was now or never. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t think you’d approve my plan, so I kept it to myself. I was going to tell you when I had more information. I’m almost there.”
“Almost where?” said Hutch. “In his pants?”
“I’m not going to warn you again,” ordered Darrow, scowling.
Hutch let out a harsh breath through his nose but stayed silent.
Darrow turned his full attention to Franklin. “Explain yourself, Lieutenant.”
Franklin squared his shoulders and forced confidence he did not feel into his voice. “The vampire, Gianni, has been speaking to me ever since he caught me watching him two weeks ago. I don’t know why he didn’t attack, but I couldn’t because we need him alive. In the stalemate, we began having conversations. I’ve encouraged a friendship. He…flirts with me.”
Hutch snickered. Franklin pressed on. “I’m using it to learn things about him. He told me more about the sovereign. He’s unintentionally revealed his own weakness as far as healing and recovery. Oswald bit him, and the wound didn’t heal like we’d expect. I think he’ll tell me more. He’s beginning to trust me. Gianni may be more human than vampire. I aim to find out.” Franklin had to grit his teeth and make himself say the next bit. “The more I know, the easier the live capture will be.”
Darrow leaned back in his chair. “This is dangerous ground you’re on, Denhart. Unprecedented. What would your father say?”
“I know, sir. It seemed the best strategy at the time. I believe I made the right choice.” Franklin prepared for the worst. He could be removed from the mission, even demoted for his breach of protocol.
Darrow considered him. Hutch stared at them both, obviously itching to speak, but kept his mouth shut. The chief finally nodded. “Continue on this course, Lieutenant, but be careful. Human traits or not, he’s a vampire. Don’t get complacent around him.”
“Yes, sir.”
Hutch’s jaw dropped open.
Franklin wouldn’t gloat, but he wanted to.
“Keep him close,” Darrow ordered. “Do whatever you have to do. We’ll get more information out of him this way, willingly, before handing him over for interrogation. This is a unique opportunity. Take as much time as you need. Dismissed.”
Relief filled his chest along with a rush of elation. Franklin had as much time to spend with Gianni as he liked. Except, if he was being realistic, that wasn’t much time at all. How long could he drag the mission out before Darrow would insist on seizing Gianni?
A sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Franklin left Hutch and Darrow to whatever they had to discuss.
Imagining Gianni imprisoned and interrogated made him cringe. If Franklin went through with it, he might finally make his father proud, but at what cost?
Gianni
Finding a blood donor was a simple matter of filling out paperwork and being matched with a willing candidate. Gianni thought the process revolting, too much like a dating app. Of course, the alternate method required him to network with other vampires, explore the city himself, or build his own relationships in the human community, all pursuits requiring socializing. Social ladders hadn’t done him any favors. He’d given them up cold turkey. Except for the slayer, that was, but picturing Buffy donating blood to a vampire was like expecting something authentic from a reality TV show. Impossible, however satisfying to think about.
The slayer would be sweet and decadent, like he smelled. He’d be tense at first, though Gianni would ease him into it until he relaxed. Until he begged for it.
With a sigh, Gianni pushed the fantasy aside and made his way to the woman he’d been paired with, Tabea Perez. Careful to avoid his usual haunts, Gianni took side roads to her place. He couldn’t risk running into Buffy. This wasn’t something he wanted the slayer to see.
Tabea’s profile said she was a grad student earning cash from her blood donations to pay for school. Gianni chose her specifically because she wasn’t interested in sex. She had a boyfriend, and random hookups with vampires weren’t her thing. Thank god. Most every other donor would expect some sort of…favor.
No money would change hands. The council arranged it all, a service Gianni took advantage of to deposit payment directly into her account, no awkward transactions necessary. Easy peasy.
How did one greet someone he was about to feed from but not have sex with? This was new terrain for Gianni. In Philly, he’d had Oswald pulling these strings, and the sex made everything obvious. One interaction bled into the next, no need to think. Simply do.
This was different. Would there be small talk first? Should he ask how her day was? Would she want to know about his? Gianni rolled his neck until it made a satisfying pop and knocked on her door. Get it over with. He needed blood. She needed money. How difficult could it be?
The young woman opened the door with a smile on her face and a spoon in her hand. “Hey, you must be Gianni. Come on in, I’m just getting dinner into the instant pot.” She left the door wide open and headed back into the house, indicating a tidy living room, albeit small. “Make yourself at home. I’ll be right over.”
As she left, Gianni got a good look at her. Gray leggings and t-shirt advertising some 5k run. Fit. Casual. Gianni could do casual. Her house smelled delicious, like cooked onions and maybe beef stew, something hearty and welcoming.
Gianni sat on the couch and scanned the room. Textbooks were scattered about, but the place itself was clean, sparsely decorated, and modern. No TV. Lots of plants. It had ‘millennial’ written all over it.
Tabea strode back into the room and plopped down next to him, hand extended. “Sorry about that. I’m Tabea.”
Gianni shook her offered hand and returned the smile. “Gianni. Pleased to meet you. Thank you for having me.”
“No problem. You hungry?” She moved her lovely black hair over her shoulder, gathering it in a quick twist and tucking it into itself and out of the way. Smooth olive skin beckoned. Suddenly, Gianni was quite hungry.
“We don’t have to talk about the weather first?”
Tabea laughed, her ease settling Gianni’s nerves. “Fucking humid, right? What happened to fall?”
Gianni laughed with her. He already liked Tabea. What was she studying? “Indeed.”
“It’s really okay. You’re not my first match. I know what to expect. You can just go ahead if you want. I know you probably have other things to do.”
“I really don’t. But I’m sure you do, so thank you. I’ll be quick.” Gianni leaned in. Tabea tilted her head to give him room, and her hand closed over his shoulder.
He took that as permission to touch her as well, his hand gently cradling the back of her head as he let his fangs drop.
He bit. Divine. She was perfect. Hot and spicy. Thick healthy blood filled his mouth and coated his throat. Tabea hadn’t flinched. She relaxed her neck and let Gianni support the weight of her head as he drank. Definitely not new to this.
It’d been too long. He shouldn’t have gone weeks without finding a donor. Now he wanted more than he should take. Reluctantly, he slipped his teeth from her flesh and lapped at the wound until the skin closed, leaving two pink marks that would fade overnight. He kissed her cheek before releasing her head and leaning out of her space. “Thank you.”
Tabea gave his shoulder a squeeze before falling back into the cushions with a sigh. “You betcha.”
The rush of her blood filling his veins made him shiver. He followed her lead and settled deeper into the couch, his body feeling temporarily boneless.
“What are you studying?”
“Molecular biophysics.”
“Shit. That sounds hard.”
“Not so hard. Expensive, though.”
Gianni nodded, but he didn’t believe her. It must be hard. He’d been wasting his life sleeping his way to the top—which hadn’t even worked—while this woman put herself through college and now grad school in a field he couldn’t even define. This reality check was probably overdue, but the pill wasn’t easy to swallow.
“Your dinner smells delicious.” Food. He could probably manage to discuss food.
“Oh thanks, I’ve been trying to eat better. Doctor’s orders. One too many microwave pizzas has raised my blood pressure. I’d offer you some, but—I mean, you know.”
“Are you serious, because I’m starving, and believe it or not, I can definitely eat your food.” His mouth was watering at the prospect. “I can also arrange to pay you more. Do you think I could come back next week?”
“I thought food made vampires sick? And yeah, next week is cool.”
“It won’t make me sick. It smells like heaven.”
“Well, there’s plenty. Hopefully it tastes as good as it smells.” She stood and loosened her hair, letting it fall around her shoulders in waves. “Come on, then.”