“I’ve told Lena this, and I will tell you as well, my lord. Vincent will not be used as a weapon or bargaining chip in one of the many disputes between gods.”
“Our time together is ending,” Azrael said, ignoring my demands. “But I would encourage you to teach him to control his thirst before he finds himself confined to a Shade Vale of his own making.”
Was that a reference to my own centuries-long incarceration? I’d storm the holy realms with swords drawn before I’d let that happen to you. But now was not the time to make idle threats.
After further instruction on my next job, Azrael departed, and I found myself staring forlornly at Santiago.
“Azrael has commanded me to take Vincent on as my apprentice,” I told him with a leaden heart.
Santiago’s drawn and tired expression mirrored my own. “Xavier will not be happy about this.”
“Nor am I.”
15
VINCENT
While you were out, I borrowed the security guard’s phone and made a quick call to Val. She told me Carter was at home recovering and would be back at school by Monday. The official story was that I’d accidentally sliced him with box cutters, but I was pretty sure Carter knew the truth. I wanted to call him and at least apologize, but Dad told meunder no circumstancewere we to have any contact. I’d never seen him so pissed at me in my life. I didn’t blame him, though. What I did was unforgivable.
That was the real reason I’d come to live with you. My parents weredone.
I considered going for a swim in the condo’s pool, but I didn’t want to be tempted by sweaty, near-naked bodies. Instead, I went snooping. The first place I started digging was in your laundry basket. I pulled out one of your undershirts and stuffed my face in it, breathing in your masculine, earthy aroma—like pine trees and cool, spring water. After I’d had my fill of your scent, I rummaged around in your underwear drawer while imagining you getting dressed in the morning and wondering what, if anything, you wore to bed on nights when you were alone.
I continued my quest in your closet, running my hands through your dress shirts and whispering protective charms to keep you out of harm’s way. I rubbed my cheek against your silken ties and traced the edges of your leather belts with my fingertips. Desire flared in me as I imagined being harnessed by that leather. Hadn’t I dreamt of something similar?
Maybe it had nothing to do with you but my Dad, who used to take a belt to my back when I misbehaved. I couldn’t say I’d enjoyed it, but it did have a way of centering me.
I stumbled onto a safe mounted at the back of your walk-in closet and spent about twenty minutes trying to crack it. The 4-digit code wasn’t my birthday or my Saint’s day or the year I was born. I tried not to take it personally.
I moved on and made an interesting discovery. Stuffed inside a shoebox underneath your bed was a pair of skimpy metallic blue Speedos—retro—and a golden crown, both of which fit me perfectly. I modeled them in front of your full-length mirrors. I had a vision then of a young man painted all in gold. Not just any man but a dancer, poised with precision.Orlando.These items must have belonged to him. I tried to glean more from the hallucination, but it was frustratingly murky. I eventually took them off, but I didn’t return them to the shoe box, I stuffed them inside my duffle bag in my room to investigate later.
By evening, I needed some fresh air, so I walked to the nearby CVS and bought what I’d need to make a chocolate cake. My eye caught on the boxes of hair dye, and I figured, why the hell not? I needed a change, and if you hated it, I could always dye it back later.
When I returned to the condo, you were preparing blood smoothies for dinner. The scent had me salivating so hard I had to suck back my spit to keep from drooling.
“I’m starving.” I dropped my stuff on the counter and accepted the glass you offered me.
“New recipe. Tell me what you think.”
I wanted to guzzle the whole thing in one go, but I forced myself to pause halfway. Too late. Brain freeze.
“I can definitely taste the raspberry,” I said.
“Too tart?”
“No, it’s perfect.” Truthfully, so long as there was blood in it, I could make it work. I finished the rest of the drink in one go, then used a spoon to collect the remainder from the glass. I even licked the rim. When it came to bloodmeals, my manners were atrocious. I didn’t realize until I set the glass down that you’d been watching me.
“Sorry about that.” I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.
“It’s been a long time,” you said slowly, “but I remember what it was like at your age. To be so hungry.” You tossed me a blood bag from the fridge and even though I’d just eaten, I tore into it as well. I tried to nurse it rather than gulp.
“What was it like for you?” I asked. You’d never really shared the details of your blood cravings before.
“It was an obsession, an unhealthy one at times. Every waking moment, feeding was all I could think about. I fantasized about human flesh and planned my days around my next bloodmeal. Human smells drove me insane. I wanted to taste every person I came across, but really, I wanted to tear into them with my teeth. Not just for their blood, but their muscles and bones too. Sometimes, if I couldn’t get to blood fast enough, I’d bite my own arm.”
You were voicing my own forbidden fantasies.
“That’s exactly what it’s like for me, even after I’ve eaten. How did you ever get enough?”
