“Humans don’t tend to have twenty years of patience,” Simon points out. “You have to understand—I’ve known so many people who’ve died. Francisco and Tania aren’t even my only dead fledge-siblings, just the ones I cared about.” Simon takes a deep breath. He hasn’t spoken this much to Cody before. “Is this related to Tania? Or to Kimiko’s sister, who died fifty years before that? Where do patterns stop, and where does paranoia begin?”
“You can have both,” Cody says, which he doesn’t intend to be funny. But he doesn’t mind that Simon laughs. Talking about death with a vampire is strange. “You said there were two things. What’s the second?”
Simon slumps back in the seat. “That’s the troublesome part. When Lawrence Baird attacked me, he knew my name. He shouldn’t have.”
“Shit.” Cody peers into the darkness, as if the landscape whipping past them holds any answers. “Did you find anything else in the stuff from his apartment?”
“Nothing that led to me. Just paranoid ramblings about vampires stalking the shadows.” Simon chuckles darkly. “Maybe two centuries ago, that would have been more accurate. He knew he sounded crazy, too. There were notes about therapists. He made an appointment six months ago but canceled it. Thesuperstitious rambling stopped three months ago, and he started withdrawing cash and booking long-distance bus tickets.”
“A paranormal shopping trip,” Cody says. “So, all the fake stuff came first, and then… what, he found something real?”
“Or something real found him,” Simon says quietly. The words are chilling, like the wind whistling through the window.
Instead of narrowing down, the suspect list has widened. Lawrence could have run into a vampire, a witch, a hunter, or even a werewolf. Someone with a grudge and not much care for treaty secrecy laws.
“Can I look through everything too?” Cody asks. “I might pick up on something you missed.”
“I thought you weren’t a detective. But sure.”
“Just doing my job,” Cody says, even though that doesn’t feel true. “I’ll see if Tobias can get security footage of tonight’s attacker. His data team is good at identifying people.”
“Put it on my tab,” Simon says absently. He lowers the window an inch more. The wind is almost loud enough to cover Simon’s next muttered words: “Fuck, why do you smell so good?”
Cody jumps, and glances over at Simon—whose eyes widen in mortification.
“Fuck off,” Simon groans, covering his face.
Despite everything, Cody grins as he turns onto the exit. He feels settled inside himself. Not happy, but right. His wolf likes protecting Simon.
And Simon thinks he smells good.
Chapter 15
Simon
Simon’s hunger settles into a tolerable ache by the time Cody allows him into the house. His eyes are likely still red, but he’s no fledgling. He can control himself.
What he can’t control is the guilt. Like a debt looming over him. Cody didn’t protect Simon as a favor, and the economy of favors doesn’t include werewolves, anyway. But the feeling gnawing at Simon is jarringly similar.
Cody locks the garage door behind them. There’s wariness in his gaze. Understandable. Most people aren’t the bite-chasers at the Broken Cross, eager to open their veins for the first willing predator.
If Cody were willing…
No. Keep this professional. Even if Cody were willing, the bite holds too much vulnerability. Simon shouldn’t be fantasizingwhen Cody is injured. Bad enough that he felt so comfortable talking about Tania.
“Follow me,” Simon says, before he can think better of it.
The first-floor bathroom is neutral territory. It’s near the library with the garden mural. Dark granite, brass fixtures, and a mirror in an ornate oval frame. Decorating his home with mirrors is amusing, beyond the practical considerations. The monthly housekeepers are the ones most likely to use the restroom.
That’s why there’s a first aid kit under the sink. In case anyone gets hurt while Simon sleeps the day away.
Simon drags the kit onto the counter. By the dust, none of the service employees have gotten hurt in the five years since they last replaced it. Simon unlatches the heavy plastic and sorts through supplies. He thinks at first that Cody won’t follow, until he hears footsteps above the crinkling of gauze packs.
Cody’s presence crowds the doorframe, and his expression is still cautious. Simon is cornered, outnumbered, caught between Cody and Cody’s reflection.
And he’s weak. That’s why Cody was hurt.
“What’s this?” Cody asks. Doubtless he knows what a first aid kit is, so he’s really asking what the fuck Simon is doing.
