But things had changed over the past year, as Riley’s growth had leveled out and his hunger had eased. His moms were trying their best to treat him like the adult he’d grown to be and not the child they’d worked so tirelessly to protect.
Riley stood there for a few moments, working to catch breath he didn’t technically need.
His moms were beautiful women on their own terms, and as a pair they were pretty damn striking. Mama Sybil, all tall and pale and curvaceous, with bountiful chestnut waves and a preference for formfitting dresses. And Mama Daphne, petite and slim, with rich brown skin and sleek black curls, who matched Mama Sybil in ferocity but tricked people into thinking otherwise with sweet smiles and a cottagecore aesthetic.
They were mates—bonded by fate and by blood—and they loved each other so deeply it was a mystery that they had room to love Riley at all. But they did, with a devotion he wasn’t sure he deserved. And they were clever and cautious, and they would know what to do here.
Oh fuck, Riley hoped they knew what to do.
Every vampire was supposed to have a fated mate, a matching soul that would tether them to their humanity and keep them from going feral. A bond that would keep them from giving in fully to that whispering, growling entity inside them that demanded blood and violence and the thrill of a hunt.
But Riley had been half-feral since the day he’d turned, andsince vampire children didn’t usually survive until adulthood, he and his moms didn’t have any prior cases to help guide them. Those turned young were too driven by hunger, too much of a risk of discovery, and they were often put down by others of their kind to keep their species’s secret safe.
Riley knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the only reason he’d escaped that fate himself was because of his mothers’ care. Their constant efforts to remind him who he was, the person inside him that was separate from the hunger and bloodlust. Their care in keeping him fed and keeping him full.
Still, none of them had been sure if Riley would have a mate like the rest of his kind. He was an anomaly, and he hadn’t…meshed with his inner vampire like he was supposed to.
They hadn’t known if fate would give him a match.
But the baker smelled like his, and he made that voice inside Riley rage in a different, new way. A confusing way.
Like…Riley wanted to sink his teeth into the pretty man—that wasn’t exactly a foreign desire—but he also wanted to hold him so close that their skin merged together. He wanted that orange cake scent covering him from head to toe.
He wasn’t sure what that was about.
His moms seemed to finally notice Riley hadn’t answered their question. They turned in unison to look at him fully. At whatever they saw on his face, they each placed their cards face down on the table.
Mama Sybil cocked her head, red lips pursed. “Did you eat something before going into town, Riley?”
Riley couldn’t help clenching his hands into fists. Some inner part of him rebelled at being treated like a child again—he was nineteen, not a little boy anymore. But he’d only been going into town for the past year. His appetite as an adolescent had been too voracious to allow it. And it had only been the past six months that he’d been able to go alone, without his moms to chaperone.That kind of timeline was a blink of an eye to vampires like his moms.
It would be a blink of an eye tohimone day too, although it was hard to believe it. Not when every day since he’d been turned had felt like its own eternity.
“I ate,” Riley said, unable to go into further detail with so many thoughts in his head.
“A human?” Mama Daphne asked. Even with all their efforts to keep Riley from harming anyone, there was no judgment in the question—most vampires had taken a life or twelve in the early days of their new lives, when they were still learning how to manage their hunger—but Riley could hear the calculation behind it. The steps that would need to be taken if he’d snapped and drained someone dry.
He shook his head.
Mama Daphne studied his face. “Was it a hard visit?” she asked eventually. “Someone had an accident, maybe? Fresh blood?”
Riley took a deep breath and let it out deliberately. With the familiarity of home and the reassurance of his mothers’ light, floral scents, both with their hint of copper, the voice inside him had quieted a bit. “There’s a new bakery,” he managed to say.
“Oh, yes. Coastal something or other, wasn’t it?” Mama Sybil drawled. “We wanted to try it. I’ve been dying for a decent croissant.” She pronounced the word with a perfect French accent.
“And—and a new baker. The owner.”
There was an almost imperceptible shift in the air. Riley could sense it, even as Mama Sybil kept her voice carefully neutral as she asked, “Is there? And what are they like, this baker?”
“Soft cheeks,” Riley said instantly. “Delicate hands, but they’re strong. Smells good.”
Riley watched as Mama Daphne grabbed for Mama Sybil’shand, her voice not quite as calm as her mate’s as she asked, “Smelled good like blood or good like…?”
“Like cake. Orange cake with vanilla icing.”
“I see.”
“I want to eat him,” Riley said in a rush, unable to stop himself. “I want to eat him more than I’ve ever wanted to eat anything.”
