Sorley ignored him. “I need a phone, paper, pens, and access to the internet.”
“I need a please.”
They locked eyes. Sorley’s jaw hurt with how hard he was clenching it. Gethin arched an eyebrow; just the one. Who the fuck apart from his sire could even do that? Sorley refused to back down. He was three hundred years old, for God’s sake. This furry Council minion would do well to remember that.
Except, Gethin cracked a half smile. Shook his head, stood, swept up his plate and mug, deposited them in the sink, then left the room, whistling jauntily.
For the second time in a few hours, Sorley was left with his mouth hanging open at the sheer audacity. How very fuckingdareGethin!? He couldn’t even call Dalziel to complain because again, no phone. Storming out of the house? Also a no. He wouldn’t be seen dead in a towelling robe, and waiting for his clothing to dry before staging a walkout wouldn’t have the same impact. And of course, it was now, infuriatingly, daylight.
He collapsed onto the sofa, swiping an irritated hand across his magnificent card castle, watching with satisfaction as the cards flew in all directions. Then he sighed. Gethin would probably enjoy standing over him and counting the individual cards as Sorley placed them back into their cardboard packaging. Overbearing control freak.
You loved that control when he fucked you.
Without warning, a sob burst out of him. Then another. Shocked and puzzled, Sorley stuffed a corner of the hated robe into his mouth to muffle the sounds and keeled over on the couch, feeling as if his heart would break.
What the everloving hell was wrong with him?
He finally pulled himself together enough to sit up. His eyes, of course, were as dry as they had been for the past three centuries, his nose blessedly free from the snot that accompanied a human crying fit, but his chest was tight and his skin felt too small for his rib cage. Was he anxious? He didn’t have anything to be anxious about. His potentially missing phone was a nuisance, but everything was backed up to the cloud, so not a major inconvenience. He was away from any of his homes, but that was easily remedied. Enthralling humans was frowned upon apart from quick, consensual feeds, but it took so little effort to charm the owner of a vehicle with tinted windows that Sorley couldn’t recall the last time he’d taken his own car from the garage. All he had to do was—
All he had to do was purloin a phone for an hour or two. He’d give the wolf the slip by nightfall and the whole affair would be over. He’d go home, indulge himself for a month or two. Take it easy. Have someone he trusted bring his dinner to him instead of hunting for it.
But he had to face facts. Even by vampire standards, he was a loner. He didn’t have anyone to call on. Not locally. And he wanted to be back in Leeds. It wasn’t even his favourite home, but he had to prove he hadn’t been driven out by whatever had caused him to flee in the first place. A point had to be made.
Except, he realised, he was scared. Who or whatever it was that had nobbled him was powerful. Powerful enough to affect the physiology of a vampire, a previously-thought-to-be impervious species. It wasn’t cowardly to be cautious, was it? No, he reasoned, it was common sense to assess the problem from all angles. And that might mean not going home alone. Which meant…
“Bollocks.”
He had to apologise to Gethin.
“Fucking, sodding bollocks.” He rolled off the sofa and began gathering up the scattered cards. He had just finished counting them when he heard the microwave ping. A few moments later, Gethin appeared in the lounge doorway with a large glass.
“Thought you might need this.” He held the glass out.
Sorley swallowed. Put the card pack on the table and got to his feet. “Sorry,” he murmured. “And thank you.” He took the glass and took a genteel sip of the warmed blood. He didn’t need it physically, but the effect on his emotions was the same as a hug from a friend, or a cashmere blanket around his shoulders.
Gethin perched on one arm of the sofa, his large body relaxed as he watched Sorley gradually empty the glass. “So, a phone, paper, pens, and access to the internet. Laptop okay? Mac or Windows?”
Sorley squirmed and tried to blend in with the wallpaper. “Just the phone is fine. I’m good with technology.”
“So am I, but we got options here. You just gotta ask.” His tone was mild, but there was a steely undercurrent that was impossible to miss. Sorley ran his tongue over his teeth and nodded.
“I’d be very obliged to you, and the Council, if I might borrow the aforementioned items for a couple of hours. Please.”
“I’ll leave everything on the table in the kitchen. You’ll get a good signal for calls and the internet there. I’ll be upstairs in the office if you need me. Don’t forget, Millar said you weren’t to travel alone, so don’t make any plans without checking with me first.”
7
GETHIN
“You’re mad,you know that, right? And I’m not talking about the whole being assaulted scenario. That wasn’t your fault, if that is what happened. But this? You know the risk you’re proposing? We can wait ’til sunset. It won’t be that long.” Gethin scrubbed a hand over his jaw, his fingernails rasping across his beard. He glanced at them, checking he wasn’t so frustrated with the vamp he was subconsciously partially shifting. He wasn’t. But honest to God, this man could be the one who forced a shift on him, indoors in broad daylight, he was so bloody exasperating.
Sorley glared at him. It was becoming a worryingly familiar expression on the vamp’s face. “It’s May, it’ll be ages until sundown. And I am not mad, except maybe mad at you for not taking me seriously. Pull up your car to the front door — you do have a car, I presume? — and I’ll slip into it from under the protection of a blanket. I know you have those. I’ll sit in the back, because I’m fairly certain even you’re smart enough to have tinted glass in any vehicle linked to the Council, and in four hour’s time, I can be home and working out how to deal with who or whatever it is that so inconvenienced me. Why should we wait?” He stood with his hands on his hips, looking more like a belligerent teenager who’d been told he’d have to wait for a lift into town to meet up with his mates than a centuries-old vampire. Gethin found it hard to take him seriously, and yet…
Gethin sighed. In some ways, the sooner the vampire could retrace his steps, the better. The thought of someone at large that could enthrall and drug previously impervious predators was a scary one, so time was of the essence. It was still risky to travel in the daytime, but whatever. If the annoying brat got himself accidentally zapped to dust, it wouldn’t be for any lack of caution on Gethin’s part.
He indicated the kitchen with a jerk of his thumb. “There’ll be a cool bag on a shelf in the pantry. Stock it from the grey fridge. Leave space for some sandwiches. I’m not eating motorway crap. I’ll go pack a bag.”
He did indeed have a vehicle equipped for all but the most awkward of potential customers. A chunky SUV, adapted by a shifter-owned firm in the Midlands for supes, with blacked-out rear glass, it had the darkest tint allowed by law on the front windows, and a robust screen that could be rolled down between the front and back seats, also tinted. The screen was also handily reinforced to withstand all but the most deadly of assaults, another great reason to use it with the vampire. Sadly, it wasn’t soundproof, but you couldn’t have everything. Gethin attached the panel to the floor bolts and pulled off the gloves he kept in the vehicle specially.
