“Please tell me you intervened?”
“Of course,” he murmured, stretching across the couch to tuck the blanket back over Alec who had stirred yet again. “I approached him, caught his eye. Offered him an out.”
“And he took it, even knowing what you are?”
“Aye, which surprised me, but then again, his crowd weren’t shifters. They were human, but there was one particular man, gave off toxic vibes. All brawn and bad intentions. Oozed out of him like the cheap shite he was swilling.” The memory shot to the forefront of his brain and lingered there in neon flashes, loud and uncomfortable. He threw up a mental shutter and continued. “He’d been keeping that Alfie on the edge of the group. Making him drink more than anyone else. A tight grip around his wrist if he moved too far away. That sort of thing.” He took a calming breath. “I waited until he went for a piss and moved in. Dragged the kid away from the group and into a corner. He was still shitting himself, but turns out he was equally as scared of losing control and shifting as he was of getting hurt. We pretended to make out. I knew the meathead was coming our way. He got handsy. That was his last mistake.”
Dalziel chuckled darkly. “Handsy with you, you mean.” It wasn’t a question.
“Aye. We had a little chat.” The memory of this part was infinitely preferable. “We all went outside; me, Alfie and the fuckwit. The fuckwit didn’t expect my ‘skinny ginger arse’ to be capable of defending myself, let alone throwing a punch.”
“What else did you do? I know you. You wouldn’t have left it like that.”
“I reported him to the bouncers for inappropriate use of force with sexual intent, and suggestedheavilythey called the cops. I got out of there fast, walked Alfie to a taxi rank.” He exhaled an amused breath. “Ballsy kid. Propositioned me in the middle of the street, like it was nothing to him I was a vampire and he’d watched me take down some arsewipe twice my size.”
“I imagine he was very turned on. A display of gallantry can be quite the boost to the libido.”
“He’s a fuckingdog, Dalziel. It took three showers as it was to get the stench of sweaty mutt off my skin. He was cute, but not that cute. I’m not desperate.”
He knew before he saw him that Gethin was at the top of the steps. Fuck’s sake, he really should learn to shut the door to the cellar, or his mouth. Gripping the skin at the top of his nose between thumb and forefinger hard enough to hurt, he sighed. “I need to go. Alec requires my assistance. I’ll have him ready at dusk.”
He cut the connection before Dalziel said another word. His gaze flickered upwards.
“You heard that.”
Gethin’s legs appeared, then the rest of him. His mouth was pinched. He glanced at Alec, then looked at Sorley. He shook his head and scoffed quietly.
“I heard. Don’t even know why I’m surprised. How’s your friend?”
Sorley shrugged, uneasy that the shifter seemed to want to change the subject, but finding himself unable to apologise. “Not great. Usually when we sleep, we are totally still. It’s like a mini death, I guess you’d say. At Alec’s age, his sleep is more akin to that of a human and he can be roused easily, but physically he is very restless. I think he’s in pain.”
“That’s not good, but not much of a surprise. Did he take more blood?”
Sorley shook his head, then filled Gethin in about his conversation with Dalziel, including the realisation he was acquainted with Alfie. Then he motioned to the stairs and, leaving Alec on the sofa, entered the kitchen, pulling the door behind him.
In a whisper, he recounted Dalziel’s order to hand Alec over to the Council.
Gethin grimaced. “Bags you tell him. He hates me already.”
Sorley snorted. “What are you, twelve? He really doesn’t. Or won’t when he’s thinking clearly again. Alec loves everyone, unless they’ve given him cause to think otherwise. You’ve only been looking out for his safety. When he’s no longer in pain and unwell, I’m sure he’ll want to thank you.”
“But I’m a shifter…”
“Which is of no consequence to me, Mr Hughes. I have been the victim of too much prejudice in both my lifetimes to ever knowingly waste energy on hate for no good reason.”
Both men started as the slender vampire appeared in the kitchen. Sorley cursed himself for not having shut the door firmly, and Alec for his ability to sneak up anywhere. Alec continued.
“I suspect I may have been unconscionably rude to you whilst under the influence of circumstances beyond my control. I apologise unreservedly. I beg your understanding, and hopefully, your forgiveness?” His eyebrows raised, he brought his open-fingered hands to rest over his heart in a gesture that made Gethin smile warmly at him.
“You’re unwell. Apology accepted. Come and take a seat.”
Alec shuffled over to clamber onto a kitchen stool. At the counter, his brave, polite demeanour morphed back into one of someone in considerable discomfort. A ripple went down his spine and he stifled a moan, before dropping his head to his folded arms.
“Will this torment never end? I amsonauseous.”
Gethin and Sorley both made a dive for the fridge. Sorley won, and split open a blood bag to heat it. Without a word, he poured half into a wine glass and slid it along the counter. Gethin fetched the bowl and put it at arm’s length from the sick man. They both watched as Alec raised his head, gave an enormous sigh, then hooked a finger around the stem of the glass.
“I hate you, Sorley,” he muttered. “Do not dare to lay one finger on me. I shall do this myself.” His gaze flickered to Gethin, then he gave a brief nod, grabbed the glass and upended it in one swallow.
