He was, he thought, as he slid his key in the front door lock, a supremely lucky man.
EPILOGUE
Four months later
SORLEY
Sorley stretchedout on the bed and gave a satisfied purr. His level of contentment needed a new form of measurement for their sex life; ‘off the charts’ no longer seemed adequate.
“I think you’ve rearranged my internal organs.”
Gethin snorted. “How many do we even have now? I’m flattered, but even I know my dick’s not that big.”
“I don’t actually know the answer to that. Perhaps we need to find a vamp who can smuggle us into a hospital to use a scanner.” He idly stroked the soft cover of a pillow with his thumb. “Maybe all our human stuff is still there, but in some kind of stasis? I dunno. Does it even matter? It was a stupendous fuck, and that’s what counts.”
Gethin rolled on top of him and pulled Sorley into a long, slow, utterly filthy kiss that stole every thought from his head and turned his already relaxed limbs to jelly. They tangled tongues, stroked fangs and lapped the drops of blood each drew from the other until Sorley’s head was a whirl of renewed desire and his cock began to thicken again. “When you kiss me like that, I lose my mind,” he panted, when he could finally speak.
“That’s the point,” Gethin admitted. “We’re on holiday. Not like we have anything we need to do. Coming our brains out repeatedly seems a sensible way to pass some time.”
“Won’t hear any arguments from me.” But he still rolled to a sitting position. “You said you needed a run. Shall we shower first or..?”
“No point. I’ll grab a flannel. That’ll do for now.”
Sorley waited for Gethin downstairs. Their holiday getaway was in the middle of Snowdonia’s national park, a safe house in the countryside Gethin knew of. It had been part of his remit when he lived in Cardiff, but responsibility for it had now passed to his son Glyn. Sorley’s knowledge of Wales could be written on the back of a postage stamp, but so far he was a huge fan of the place. It had a massive well-stocked blood fridge — handy as this cottage was remote, custom-made blinds for all the windows, and understated luxury in all the fixtures and fittings. The fact it was in the middle of nowhere was even better.
Gethin came down the stairs naked, a sight which never failed to make Sorley drool. His wolf shifter body had been subtly altered when he became a vampire and now he was a little leaner in some places, less obviously jacked than he had been. His six pack, though, was as defined as if it had been carved in marble, and the vee of his pelvis could drive better men than Sorley to write poetry. Sorley knew it wasn’t a healthy body ideal for humans, but he couldn’t argue that aesthetically, Gethin was a work of art.
Gethin grinned at him, all fangs and sexual promise. “Is there a reason you’re only in satin shorts and trainers?” September nights were verging on nippy, but of course, neither of them had to concern themselves with human conditions like getting cold.
Sorley echoed his grin. “No one to see us, is there? Not like I’ll get a chill. Besides, I thought you’d like the visual.” Slender and pale when he’d been human, with only slight muscles, he’d taken some time to be wholly confident in his nakedness with Gethin, feeling a little self-conscious next to his mate’s bronzed gloriousness. And yes, it was a myth that all vampires were ghostly white. A certain post-turning pallor was expected in white folk, but Gethin had a darker skin tone than Sorley to begin with, so he was still a golden hue, albeit a very subtle shade of gold.
“Fair enough. I love the visual. Even my wolf will appreciate it.” He passed a small sachet to Sorley. “Got a pocket in those teeny weeny shorts?”
Sorley snickered. “For lube? Always.” He stashed it away. “We ready?” His sluggish heart gave a solid thump of anticipation knowing Gethin would shift in front of him. It would never get old. He unlocked the front door —they were fearsome supernatural predators at the top of the food chain but Sorley still had bursts of paranoia thanks to that fucker Cormack — and gazed up at Gethin.
“Bark when you get tired of chasing me. I’ll slow down, probably.”
“You’re going to be a brat for eternity, aren’t you?” Gethin chuckled and lay down on the runner. “I’ll make you pay for that remark later.”
He rested his head on his forearms and exhaled. Apparently it wasn’t necessary, never had been, but Gethin explained it helped him focus. Sorley watched as limbs stretched, bones cracked, and Gethin let out a soft moan. His handsome face contorted then reformed into a muzzle, ears pricked up, limbs blurred and then solidified into four dark furry legs with wicked-looking claws on their feet. His tail always formed last, for reasons Gethin confessed he didn’t know.
The transformation complete, he opened his eyes and fixed their glowing depths firmly on Sorley. The orange rim around his irises no longer startled Sorley, but in his wolf form Gethin seemed capable of seeing into his very soul, which was a teensy bit disconcerting.
To cover his momentary wobble, he dropped to his knees and buried his hands and face in Gethin’s thick fur.
“You are so fucking gorgeous like this,” he murmured, inhaling the scent only a few short months ago he would have run from, assuming it would turn his stomach to even catch a whiff. Gethin’s scent in his wolf persona was stronger than how he presented as a vampire, but that was presumably due to the sheer amount of fur. He still had the earthy outdoor freshness that had first captivated Sorley’s attention when most of him had been struggling under the weight of whatever poison Cormack had drugged him with.
They ran for maybe three hours, across the dips and planes of the park, revelling in the solitude, the crisp damp soil under their feet, and the full moon partially hidden by clouds. It peeked out every so often, bathing the countryside in its silvery glow and giving the plant life an ethereal beauty that Sorley kept stopping to appreciate. Every time he slowed, Gethin eyed him suspiciously as if to say, “I hope you’re not suggesting you’d lose me.”
Eventually, he stopped properly and gestured to Gethin he wasn’t going any further. He rarely talked out loud when Gethin was in fur. It didn’t seem as though they needed words. Sorley wondered if it was some kind of bond he’d heard about, working its magic on them. He wasn’t convinced he could hear Gethin’s thoughts, not exactly, but they really did seem to be growing closer by the day, able to discern where the other was, often within a few yards, and to feel the mood of the other even over a sizeable distance. Justin and Dalziel had been working on some theories, and in Dalziel’s case, also working through his considerable library for any clues. Shifter bonds were one thing everyone could agree on. Vampires who were fully committed to another, or even more than one, weren’t rare, but they hadn’t yet come across a vampire who was willing to state their relationship had the same kind of bond as a shifter. Some prejudices would take a long time to break down.
Gethin prowled around the area, nosing through the scrub and by the look of it, finding some smells worthy of further investigation. Sorley did then call out to him.
“Gethin! Don’t you dare eat another rabbit. You know what happened last time.” He shuddered at the recollection.
Gethin growled softly, his stare baleful, but Sorley held his gaze without wavering, and eventually Gethin huffed and turned away from whatever had captured his interest. No doubt he had no wish to puke his guts up within seconds of returning to his vampire form, his undead body desperate to undo the error his wolf had been in blissful, greedy ignorance of.
Aware of how long it would take them to get inside before sunrise, Sorley wandered over and ran his hand over Gethin’s back. “Come on, you,” he suggested. “I know we’ve got time, but I don’t want us to have to rush. Haven’t you done enough moonbathing yet?”
