My breath caught again at his last words. Ididwant that, all of it, but the thought of deciding to fuck, as casually as eating a piece of toast or taking a shower, was something I was still wrapping my head around. I’d probably given Edwin the wrong impression of me the first, and so far only time he’d fed from me, when,oh God, the memory of it makes me hot all over,I’d dry-humped his thigh while clinging to him like a needy barnacle.
I should tell him. Ineededto tell him, before I made a tit of myself. But how to start? Did I drop it into conversation all casual, like mentioning I preferred barbecue sauce to tomatoketchup, or should it be its own subject? My heart tripped over itself as I figured it should be the latter.Fuck,I didn’t have the capacity to deal with this right now. Not ever, if I was honest. What the FWNN had done to me didn’t count. Because I hadn’t chosen it, and he’d forc?—
Not going there! My brain threw up another massive stop sign. I glugged desperately at the remains of my tea and, fuck my life, some of it went down the wrong way. Choking, and trying not to expire before I could suck some oxygen into my burning airways, I hunched over and tried not to hack up a lung, vaguely aware that Edwin was speaking urgently to me. His words were garbled, but they sounded concerned. He’d have to wait for an answer.
I must have shut my eyes, because when I could finally drag in a breath without being convinced I’d puke on his fancy rug, and opened them, he was on his knees by my feet, his expression freaked out, one hand in mid-air as though he wanted to touch me but wasn’t sure if he should. I grinned at him weakly.
“Went down the wrong way,” I rasped.
“The tea?” I nodded. “Can I do anything? Do you need a doctor?” I shook my head. “You worried me, James.”
I reached out my hand. He caught it and squeezed. The contact was reassuring, kind. He hadn’t got a fucking clue about humans, but it was at that precise moment I realised he genuinely did care. He didn’t want to break me, or for me to come to any harm — it wasn’t the first time I’d tried to caffeinate my ungrateful lungs so I knew I’d be fine in a minute — but he’d evidently forgotten that clumsy human action and had wanted to help.
He let go and got to his feet, so gracefully it was another reminder he was otherworldly, and disappeared for a moment, returning with a mug of water. “Would this help?”
“It might,” I croaked. I sat up and he swapped the mugs over. I took a hesitant sip, willing my body to behave.
“Sorry about that.” I chanced another sip, then put the mug down. “It’ll wear off in a minute.”
“You should rest your voice.” He glanced at a clock on the smaller of the two bookcases. “You need to sleep at night, don’t you? Do you want to leave the unpacking until tomorrow and get to bed soon? That’s worn you out. Humans are fragile. I don’t want you to get sick.”
“I choked, that’s all. I’m fine,” I protested. “Besides, the pizza should be here any minute.” As I spoke, his phone chimed. My stomach growled.
“Delivery bloke can’t find the front door,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “I’ll only be a second.”
It was another sign of his kindness that he’d worked out I didn’t like being left alone now, although I wouldn’t call going to your own front door any sort of abandonment. All the vampires at Sorley’s place had looked out for me, plus the other bloke, Marlowe, who was apparently a mage, something else I’d thought only existed in video games and fantasy books.
I inhaled the garlic bread like a pig. The pizza was amazing, piping hot and just the right level of greasy. I stuffed my face, managing three quarters before I called it quits. Edwin put the rest in the fridge after I assured him it would taste even better cold with a cuppa for breakfast. Then he tried again to persuade me to head to bed, reminding me, like I’d forget, that I was human and not used to staying up all night. I argued right back that I was no longer living the life of a regular human.
“I don’t want to be awake all day if you’re not. I’ve been nocturnal for ages now. It feels strange to sleep when it’s dark. And it won’t work very well if you have a blood slave who’s always asleep when you want to feed.”
We batted it back and forth for a bit before we compromised. I went for a shower, pleasantly surprised to discover his home was plumbed into the mains and there was loads of hot water. I redressed in clean sweats and a hoodie, then joined Edwin back in the living room where he handed me the TV remote and told me to choose a film. He eyed my clothing with suspicion.
“They don’t look like pyjamas.”
I shrugged. “Don’t have any.”
“Why ever not?”
It wasn’t the time to explain how a lifetime of sharing with other kids, none of whom I was related to, many of whom were bigger and stronger than me, had ensured I had pared down my possessions to the bare minimum. Small bags were easier to guard, plus hoodies had, well, hoods. I shrugged again. “Never saw the point.”
“Hmm.” He leaned over and snagged one of the pencils to add “pyjamas” to my shopping list. His handwriting was weird; kind of loopy but precise, like something you’d see in a museum or some shit. I must have stared at it too long.
He caught my eye. “When I went to school we got thrashed if we weren’t neat. Our writing had to look exactly the way it did on the blackboard. Some habits never leave, I guess.”
“It’s fancy,” I said. “Did you write with one of those pens you put the ink in?”
He rolled his eyes. “You mean fountain pens? They’d been invented by then, I’m notthatold, but I was poor. My school was also poor. We had nib pens and ink in wells set into the desks. We had to dip. Carefully, because we also got thrashed for blotting our work.” He shook his head as if clearing the memories. “Did you choose a film?”
5
EDWIN
A blood slavewas going to be a ton more work than I’d realised. James was cute, but somehow I’d overlooked so many aspects of his humanity that I was already wondering if I was cut out to be his…his what, exactly? His vampire master, I supposed, although that sounded regrettably old-fashioned. Ha, like I was a model of modern speech at all times.
I was also concerned with the anxiety I could feel coming from him. I wasn’t worried he didn’t find me attractive — I’d had enough encounters over the decades to know when a bloke was hot for me or not — but something didn’t add up. It had to be related to that utter bastard Cormack, whose imprisonment and treatment of James had caused what I call ‘red mist rage’ to descend on me and my fellow vampires. I hadn’t needed my sire, or anyone else, to spell out how important consent was, but being one of Dalziel’s coven came with conditions. We had to swear to him that we took the subject seriously at all times. I still didn’t know how or why this had become so important to him, but I had an inkling either Sorley or Baxter had been assaulted at some point, turning my sire into some kind of supernatural avenging angel of death. It rankled that I was not yet considered trustworthy enough to be enlightened, but I’d tryto wait patiently until someone deigned me worthy of keeping the secret.
James was giving off yes and no signals the same way the Belisha beacon along the street flashed. To say it was confusing me was an understatement because I didn’t know if I should confront him again. I’d tried to explain I would never take advantage of him, and I was pretty sure he believed me, but then he looked as equally terrified of getting naked as he did with the idea of sleeping alone. Gethin had been really bossy and alpha-wolfy about James being traumatised. I wanted to say I understood, because I did, kind of, but I was struggling to put myself in his position. Academically I got it, but I’d been accused of lacking in empathy before and it seemed I wasn’t excelling at showing much now.
