“Which part?” Carver said. “When Roger killed a hunter or when you staked a vampire?”
A boulder slammed into Zack’s lungs. “What?”
Carver continued plodding up the stairs.
“You think that what happened on that stage is the same as what I did?” Zack demanded.
Kit left the sofa and wandered over to the bar. “Is there a bottle of fey wine back there? Something Seelie?”
Takashi glanced through the bottles. “Midsummer Glow.”
“Perfect.” Kit took it and headed for the stairs.
“Really? You’re just going to grab some booze and hide in your room?” Zack said.
“You’re going to turn this into a thing,” Kit said. “You’ve got your ‘priority humanity’ voice on. And it’s clear that you think you didn’t do anything wrong. Youkilled someone, and you think it’s nothing like what Roger did. All I see are bodies.”
“That guy attacked me,” Zack said. “And Anton put a stake in my hand.”
“Yeah, well, Seamus sired the fangs in Roger’s mouth, and who knows what that guy did. Maybe he was a fascist asshole who deserved it. Doesn’t matter. He’s fucking dead, and we’re alive.” Carver said from the top of the stairs. “Think we can split that wine, Kit?”
“Your room or mine?”
“Yours smells nicer.”
Zack was speechless until the door clicked shut behind them upstairs. A clink sound at the bar drew his attention. Takashi was putting ice in a glass, and he took a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet and poured himself a drink.
“Do one up for me,” Roger said dryly.
Takashi slid the drink across the bar to indicate Roger could nab that one, and he took out another two glasses.
“After what just happened, everyone’s going to get drunk and pretend nothing’s wrong?” Zack said.
“What do you have us do, Zack?” Takashi asked as he dropped ice cubes into the fresh glasses. He gestured at the glass with the bottle. “Do you want one?”
“No,” Zack said.
“The first question remains.” Takashi poured whiskey like a punctuation. “We’revampires. You’ve asked Roger what his long-term plans are. At least, I imagine you have. I know I have. But what about you? We slay the monster, we take the coven. Does your vision of the future include your vampire boyfriends?”
Takashi rounded the bar and leaned against it beside Roger. The two of them, standing motionless next to each other, were the manifestation of Zack’s wildest dreams. They were gorgeous. Incredible. Dangerous.
And he wanted all of that. He wanted what he had with them to go on forever.
But what did wanting them turn him into? They were killers. Both of them were elegant, beautiful beacons of death. His family had already disowned him for sleeping with one vampire. Did they know about Takashi? Would it make a difference if he killed Seamus? Could he ever talk to them again? Why was he caring so deeply about them in the first place?
Zack shoved a hand through his hair. The crest tag on his collar tinkled against the ring. He’d forgotten he had it on. He scrambled to get the damn thing off and tossed it to the floor.They got you used to it, little bro. You belong to them. The bloodsuckers.
“Zack,” Roger said softly, gently, as if he were the torch in a darkening forest.
Zack glanced up. Roger had concern in his deep brown eyes, and he stepped forward with an unnatural grace.
The terrible thought, the one Zack had banished as soon as he’d had it, returned. Because something had happened on that stage that twisted the wires in his mind. Somehow, he must have gotten things crossed. The atmosphere. Maybe it had chewed through his hunter’s tattoo and caused him to long for things he shouldn’t want. Made him jealous when he should’ve been sickened.
“I’m fine,” Zack said. And he was panting. Why was he panting? He put a hand to his chest, then slid it up to rub through his hair.
“Zack,” Roger said again. “You need to breathe.”
Roger was slowly walking toward him. And if they touched, in that moment, Zack would lose the rest of his soul, he was sure of it. Because he’d already sold off pieces of it. He’d never truly hated vampires like he should; that was why his mother had put him on the bench instead of letting him join the family in the field. Maybe he’d been born without one altogether. Maybe that was why he didn’t see the world the way his family did.
