by P. G. Forte
Telling himself it was all for the best didn’t help in the slightest. Nor did reminding himself that this separation had always been inevitable, a matter of time. Right from the start, their paths had been fated to diverge. So it had been sooner rather than later, so they’d had months together, rather than years, what did it really matter? It’s not as though they could ever have had decades or centuries or even greater stretches of time. All the same, he found it just a little unfair.
Finally, one Friday night in late September, after a week in which Conrad had been particularly trying, Damian slipped quietly into a club where he suspected he might find Paul. He told himself it was nothing more than curiosity that had brought him there. He told himself he just wanted to catch a glimpse of the boy, to see how he was doing, to prove to himself that they’d both moved on, that his decision to break things off had been the right one.
The minute their eyes met he knew he’d been lying to himself. Just as he knew he’d be back in Paul’s bed that very night—if the boy would have him.
Paul had stilled at the sight of him. Then he pushed his way through the crowd, his gaze never wavering, until they were standing within an arm’s length of each other. “D.” The single syllable emerged as the faintest whisper. Paul’s eyes searched Damian’s face. “You’re back.”
There was a question in those words—and in his eyes—a challenge of sorts, one Damian answered with a slight shrug and a wry smile. That was all it took. Paul closed the distance between them then. He pulled Damian into his embrace and took his lips in so hungry a kiss that Damian momentarily reconsidered his earlier assumption. It was possible they would not even make it as far as Paul’s bed tonight.
They did, eventually, make it there, however. The sex was scorching, almost violent in its passion, everything Damian hadn’t even realized he’d been missing. Afterwards, they’d talked. They’d laid out the rules. They’d detailed what they could and couldn’t expect from one another…
Did Paul really intend to re-open that discussion now? Damian’s heart sank at the prospect. There was only so much he could give the boy. That had always been the case and it always would be. If that wasn’t going to be enough to satisfy Paul then Damian would have to resign himself to the fact and once again let their friendship come to an untimely end. This time for good.
“We agreed we were not going to be exclusive, Paul. That we weren’t going to pry into each other’s lives or push each other for information, or details—or anything we weren’t ready to give. You swore to me that you were okay with that.”
“I am okay with it,” Paul insisted. “That’s not what this is about, all right? I don’t care how many other men you fuck. ’Cause you know what? You’re not the only one who might wanna screw around either. And, dude, I don’t give a shit if you’ve got guys lining up from here to China for the chance to suck your dick. I just want to know if…if that’s all I am to you as well.”
“Pablito.” Damian gazed at him reproachfully. “What’s this all about? You know you mean more to me than that.”
“Do I? How much more, D? I’m not stupid, you know. You never ask me to go home with you. You never stay here until morning. Hell, I’ve never once even seen you in daylight. It’s like you’re some kind of damn vampire or something.”
Damian could barely keep the smile from his face. “Well, that’s just ridiculous, isn’t it?”
Paul sighed. “You know what I mean.” He paused for a moment then asked, “So, is there someone else? Is that why? Do you have someone you go home to every night when you leave here? Am I just something on the side, a convenient way to kill a few hours every week when he or…or maybe it’s a she has something else going on? Is that it?”
Damian shook his head. It should be easy to say yes. It should be easy to simply walk away. It wasn’t. “There is a reason. But it’s not at all what you think.”
“Yeah? Well, how the hell do you even know what I think?” His voice bitter, Paul turned his head away. “It’s not like we ever talk about it. Anyway, I guess that was a yes.”
Damian took Paul’s chin between his fingers, forcing the boy to face him once more. “You’re partially correct. There is someone I go home to when I leave here. Three someones, to be exact. I don’t take you home with me because I don’t live alone. I share a house with my…with my father and my orphaned niece and nephew who I’ve helped raise since the time they were infants.”
“Oh.” Paul blinked in surprise. A faint flush colored his cheeks. “You’re right. That-that’s not what I was thinking.”
“Sí. I know. I told you so, didn’t I?”
“So, does that mean…are you saying you never bring anyone home with you? It’s not just me you’re keeping a secret from them?”
“When the children were younger, I did occasionally entertain guests at home from time to time, but I’ve not done that for quite awhile now. They’re at an impressionable age, you see. It might be confusing for them and I just don’t think it’s wise.”
Paul hesitated and then asked, “Are you not out to them? Is that why? Are you afraid of how your father would react if he knew? Because, you know, I’d totally understand if that was it.”
Again, Damian thought, it would be so easy to lie and say yes, but Paul’s family had disowned him when they learned of his preference for men. Damian knew how badly the boy had been hurt by their rejection, how the loss of his family still plagued him. Damian didn’t have the heart to trade on that pain. “No, that’s not the problem. Not exactly. It’s just…awkward.”
“It doesn’t have to be. I mean, it’s not like we’d have to jump each other, you know, or stick our tongues down each other’s throats when they’re around. I can be discreet.”
Damian’s lips quirked as he considered Paul’s usual appearance. With his jewelry and his glittery clothes, his bleached hair—or even right now, naked but with faint smudges of makeup still circling his eyes—Paul was anything but discreet. “No, you can’t. And I wouldn’t really want you to be. You’re perfect just as you are. That’s not what worries me.” More than anything, he was worried the twins would recognize Paul—the taste or the scent of him, rather than his outward appearance. He was worried they’d mention it to Conrad and that Conrad would insist Damian break off this very dangerous liaison. If only there were a way of reintroducing Paul to them all without arousing Conrad’s suspicions, without forcing Damian into an ugly confrontation with his sire, one that he could only lose.
“They must be very important to you, if you’re willing to put your own life on hold in order to help care for them.”
“Sí. They are. Very important. And, besides, it’s only a very small portion of my life really, just another few years and then…who knows what will happen?” A frightening thought. One he’d rather not dwell on overmuch. Damian’s gut clenched. How likely would Conrad be to still keep him around, when he was no longer so useful to him?
“I’d like to meet them.”
And they’d probably like to eat you. The idea should have brought a smile to his lips. That it didn’t was unexpectedly disturbing. The idea of the boy being viewed as nothing more than a convenient source of food or amusement bothered Damian much more than it should. “Someday, perhaps.” Then he pressed his lips to Paul’s, allowing a trace of venom to mix with his saliva—enough to put at least a temporary end to the boy’s arguing.
There was no use in discussing the matter any farther. It would be nice to be able to merge these two aspects of his life, and it wouldn’t hurt the twins, either, to spend a little more of their time socializing with humans outside of mealtimes. They were still a little more isolated, a little more separated from the world at large than Damian thought healthy.
Once, he and Conrad had brought people home several nights a week, but even then the twins had not interacted with them all that much. Since they’d moved here, the only time humans were allowed into their home was during one of the twins’ rare play-dates or the
equally rare parties Conrad occasionally allowed Damian to throw.
Speaking of parties… Damian blinked as a much more pleasant idea struck, one that carried a surprising sliver of hope with it. They were hosting such an event at the end of this month, were they not? Was it possible there was an easy answer to his dilemma after all? If he could slip Paul into the house amid a group of people—no sampling allowed—perhaps the next time he introduced him to the twins, or even to Conrad himself, they’d attribute any lingering feeling of familiarity they felt to having met him at the party?
Could it be that simple? Was it worth the risk?
“Pablito,” Damian raised his head and smiled at the boy. “I’ve just had a thought.”
Paul gazed at him questioningly. “Yeah? What’s that?”
“Have you made any plans yet for New Year’s Eve?”
Chapter Eleven
December 23, 2009
Despite the hordes of holiday shoppers, Julie had no trouble locating Brennan in the crowded mall. It helped that she knew who he’d gone there with and had a pretty good idea what they’d likely be doing—that went without saying. But she was convinced there was more to it than that. She was sure that, even if she hadn’t known in advance where to start her search, something, either the bond between them, or her own heightened senses, would have led her to him just the same.
Maybe Damian and Armand were both right. Call it habit, call it addiction, call it any damn thing you like, who was she to say that there was no chemical component to the attraction Brennan felt for her? But who were they, or anyone for that matter, to say it didn’t work both ways, affecting vampires every bit as deeply as it did humans. Maybe no one wanted to accept that, but it would explain a lot, if that were the case. It would answer questions she’d puzzled over for years.
It would also explain why she’d come here tonight. Why she was once again doing the exact same thing she’d done repeatedly over the past six months. Whenever things got scary or overwhelming or too much to cope with she’d run to Brennan, finding comfort in the familiar taste of his lips and skin and blood, in the arms that would always hold her tight. He couldn’t really keep her safe. They both knew that. But time and again, they’d both been happy to pretend he could.
“Hey, you,” she said as she sidled up alongside him.
Brennan’s eyes widened. He drew in a startled breath. “Julie. Hi.”
Julie ignored the faint alarm in his gaze, the rapid patter of his pulse. Come and take me…come and take me… She kept her smile glued firmly in place and pretended not to notice how his hands had tightened reflexively, so that his grip on his son, who was seated on his shoulders, seemed somehow more fiercely protective than it had a moment earlier. If that didn’t show her how little he really knew, or trusted her, nothing would. Damn it, Brennan, chill. I don’t eat children.
Doing her best to appear harmless, she waved cheerfully at the little boy. “Hi, Parker. Remember me?”
The little boy nodded, but without much interest. It was obvious his attention was elsewhere. “I can see Santa,” he announced importantly, pointing over the heads of the other people waiting in line for their chance to chat with the man in red. “He’s right over there.”
Julie grinned. “Wow, that’s really cool. I guess it’s a good thing your daddy’s so tall, huh?”
Parker nodded absently again and Julie turned her attention back to Brennan. The surprise had left his eyes—and about time, too—likewise the wariness. In its place was an uncharacteristically solemn expression, and that might have been even worse. It was a look that combined tenderness and longing with a hint of despair. It made her want to wrap her arms around him and promise that everything would be all right, even though she wasn’t completely certain that was true.
“So…what are you doing here?” Brennan asked at last.
Julie shrugged, reluctant to admit she’d come here for him, that she’d tracked him down for what suddenly seemed like very selfish reasons. “Oh, you know, same thing as everyone else, I guess.”
At that, a crooked smile finally found its way to Brennan’s lips. “Really? You’re here to sit on Santa’s lap and whisper in his ear? You should have told me if that’s what you’re into. It might not be too late for me to rent a costume, you know.”
Julie made a face. “Funny. No. I think I’ll skip Santa’s lap this year.”
“Why? Were you bad?” Parker asked with sudden interest.
“Not especially,” Julie said with a laugh.
Brennan glanced up at his son. “Hey, you. Cut it out. We don’t ask questions like that. You hear me?”
“Why?”
“Because… Hell, I dunno. Just don’t do it, all right? It’s rude.” His gaze cut back to Julie. “So, if that’s not it, then what?”
Julie gestured at their surroundings. “You know, a little shopping, a little sightseeing. Just…taking it all in, really. The music, the decorations, the windows…”
“The lights?” Brennan suggested teasingly.
“Yeah, those not so much.” Julie winced a little at the thought. She’d been trying her best to ignore the glare, but even at night, even wearing dark glasses, all the blinking lights were giving her a headache. “Thanks so much for reminding me.”
Brennan’s gaze turned curious. “Seriously, though. Why the sudden interest? I mean, I didn’t get the impression you were really into religious holidays. I didn’t think you all celebrated that kind of stuff.”
Julie’s eyebrows rose. Is that what we’ve come to? She hated the idea that Brennan had lumped her in with all the other vampires. “I’m sure not all of us do. But what’s that got to do with me?”
Brennan nodded. “Point taken. And I guess…I guess it’s not really like a belief thing, is it? It’s not like you joined a cult or got a new religion or anything like that.”
“No. It’s not.” It wasn’t anything at all like that. It wasn’t something new or different or weird—at least not for her it wasn’t. It was just…life. Her life. The way it had always been. “And who says it’s sudden? I was a kid once, too, you know.”
As children, both she and Marc had been enthralled by the holiday season—a fact that had been met with surprise and resignation by their parental figures. How could they not be fascinated? For a few brief weeks every year, it was as though the whole world opened up to let them in. It was the one time of year they felt no different than all the other kids. The one time of year they weren’t convinced they were missing out on all sorts of fun. Stores stayed open later. The other kids stayed up later. People of all ages thronged the streets, singing carols, buying trees, strolling from house to house to admire decorations. From Thanksgiving all the way through New Year’s Eve—all the really cool stuff seemed to happen after dark.
“I wish I could’ve known you back then,” Brennan said.
Julie nodded. “Yeah, I’d have liked that too.” But that was just a pleasant fantasy. It could never really have happened because back when she was a kid, Brennan hadn’t even been born. Funny how the difference in their ages seemed suddenly to matter so much, when it had never bothered her before.
They were separated by what—maybe a dozen or so years? That was nothing compared to the age difference between, say, Conrad and Damian. Or Conrad and Armand. Or even her and Armand. But, once again, just as it had the previous night, what shouldn’t have bothered her did, while what should have been important wasn’t.
“What was it like?” Brennan asked suddenly.
Julie looked at him in surprise. “What was what like?”
“Christmas. When you were a kid. Was it very different from now?”
When she was a kid? She shouldn’t even be speaking about that. “No, not really.” She glanced around at the stores and the crowds and then corrected herself. “Not different at all, actually. A little smaller maybe.”
“Smaller, huh?”
Julie shrugged. “A little bit, yeah. It was a small town though, so t
hat would account for it, you know?”
“I guess. So you’re a small town girl then?”
“You could say that.” Small towns, suburbs, she’d lived in quite a few. All of them nondescript, all of them sharing one very important characteristic, a complete lack of other vampires. Why was that? It had to have been intentional. Despite Damian’s insistence that he and Conrad had wanted the twins to have as normal a childhood as possible, Julie couldn’t help thinking that they would have felt a whole lot more “normal” if they could only have spent time around others of their kind.
Brennan reached for her hand and held it tight. A silence fell between them, not exactly uncomfortable, one that lasted until they reached the end of the slowly moving line. Julie slipped her hand free of Brennan’s so he could swing Parker off his shoulders. As the little boy went off with one of the elf-garbed teens who’d been hired to help Santa with crowd control, Brennan wrapped an arm around Julie’s shoulders and pressed a kiss against the top of her head. “Sorry if I acted like a jerk before. I’m just trying to understand, you know?”
“Sure.” She glanced up at him and smiled, entirely too ready to forgive him. “Don’t worry about it.” She nodded toward Parker. “He’s so cute. Do you take him to do this every year?”
Brennan shrugged. “This is the first time, actually. He was too young for it before. But now…yeah, I probably will. I mean, that’s what parents do, right?”
“I guess.”
His gaze turned curious again. “You don’t sound very sure of that. How come? Didn’t your parents take you to see Santa when you were a kid?”
“Yeah,” Julie smiled at the memory, even though, at the time, it hadn’t been all that pleasant. “Yeah, they did.”
It had only been once. Though she and Marc had pleaded for years, by the time they’d convinced Damian they could be trusted to control themselves through the flash of the strobe lights and the press of the crowd, they were almost too old to still be interested. He’d prepped them for weeks ahead of time, coaching them on what to expect, how to behave and what not to say to Santa and even with all of that, the resultant photo had showed two tight-lipped, startled-looking children, staring wide-eyed at the camera. It had not been a flattering picture, as she recalled, yet Damian had treasured it all the same. She sometimes thought he’d been disappointed the following year when neither of the twins could be persuaded to repeat the experience. Now, she kind of wished they hadn’t been so stubborn, that they’d tried it again—especially since it was one of the few “normal” childhood memories she had.