Spencer hadn’t heard any news about that Night Court being eradicated, but then, he supposed Ashanti wasn’t the sort to air her kind’s dirty little secrets to the public. “So Takoma is all right?”
Relief made Spencer weak-kneed. He hadn’t had any update, the distance meant to keep them both safe, but not knowing had been tearing him up inside. Spencer moved so he could take a seat on the couch, legs a little shaky. Ashanti was limned in the rich, fading sunlight coming through the glass doors, its brightness having never been a threat to herself and those she directly sired. When she looked at him, he could see the fire of the sun reflected in her eyes. “You were worried for him.”
Spencer curved a hand over the side of his throat, over the bite wound, and tried not to remember what it had felt like to have Takoma feeding desperately deep from him, struggling to exist. “He was hurt.”
“I remade him.”
Ashanti turned away from the view of the sun where it lingered on the horizon for a few more moments. The sound of footsteps had Spencer looking over at who had joined them, and he nearly fell off the couch when he saw Takoma standing there, awash in the rays of a sinking sun. He looked different in the fading light of day, a warmth to his skin that would disappear once night fell.
The master vampire stared out the glass doors, at the sun Spencer knew he hadn’t seen for so terribly long, riveted by the sight. Then those dark eyes turned his way, and Spencer couldn’t move, frozen beneath the master vampire’s attention. Spencer couldn’t stop the word that came to his tongue from escaping. “Daywalker.”
“No,” Ashanti corrected. “The blood magic that made him first wasn’t mine, but a tiny portion now is.”
Just enough for Takoma to wake before twilight, to glimpse the sun before it disappeared past the horizon, to not be burned by it in that brief moment like all but a handful of his kind.
Ashanti approached Takoma, speaking to him in a language that Spencer didn’t understand, voice low and raspy. Takoma nodded at whatever she said, but his eyes didn’t follow his mother when she left, remaining focused on Spencer. Fatima yawned hugely before trotting over to Takoma, rubbing against his leg and following Ashanti out of the room.
“You’re awake,” Spencer said dumbly, still trying to wrap his mind around what had just occurred.
“You’re here,” Takoma said.
Spencer got to his feet, eyes never leaving Takoma as he slowly closed the distance between them. He reached up to touch his fingers to Takoma’s face, pressing his palm to cool skin. “You asked me to stay.”
“And will you?”
“I put in the paperwork to move up here and be based out of the Seattle field office. The director wants me working exclusively on missing artifact cases.”
He was still sorting out the logistics of transferring his domicile, but the director hadn’t pushed back on his request. He’d need to go back to San Francisco at some point soon and pack up his tiny apartment. He was already looking for a place to live up here, because transient agent housing wasn’t practical or allowable long-term, but Spencer was ready to call Seattle home.
He was ready to hold on tight to Takoma and never let go.
Takoma caught Spencer by the chin, tilting his head to the side, gaze locked on the messy, healing bite wound there that was as much a claim as anything else. When it eventually scarred over, Spencer would carry the imprint of Takoma’s fangs in him forever.
He couldn’t really say he minded all that much.
Takoma stroked his fingers over the stitches, the touch electric rather than painful. “I never meant to hurt you.”
“You’d hurt me a lot more if you died a true death.” Spencer tugged on Takoma’s shirt, drawing him close. “Hey, I’m still alive, and I’m yours for as long as I’m breathing.”
Takoma’s eyes bored into his, gaze dark and hungry and so, so possessive. “Is that so?”
“You promised to show me a way out, remember?”
“And if that way out is longer than a human lifetime?”
Spencer frowned at him. “You can’t turn me.”
“I wouldn’t need to. Your government isn’t the only one who keeps track of powerful artifacts.”
“Yeah? What are you after?” Spencer hoped it wasn’t anything that would show up on his case list because that would be supremely awkward.
“There’s a black market auction in Shanghai next month. I secured an invitation late last year, and Alyona is scheduled to attend on my behalf. The Peach Amulet of Shouxing is supposedly one of the artifacts being auctioned off.” Takoma pressed his fingers a tad harder against Spencer’s throat. When he swallowed, he could feel the beat of his own pulse there. “If you had it, you would share my life.”
Something hot and desperate unspooled in Spencer’s chest, the idea of that minuscule chance taking up space in his heart. “Then I guess we better hope it’s going up for sale.”
Takoma slid his hand around the back of Spencer’s neck and pulled him into a fierce kiss that was all sharp fangs and the hint of blood on his tongue in the last rays of sunlight. They kissed and kissed until Spencer’s lungs ached with the need to breathe, Takoma drawing all the air out of him, like the master vampire had the right to it, to everything that made Spencer who he was. And maybe Takoma did. After all, Spencer carried his claim now, even if all anyone else would see was a lie.
“You’re staying here,” Takoma murmured against his lips. “With me, in my bed.”
