Night had always settled Roger. Contentment was rare, but he found it in his steady pace. He made his way to a rather ordinary house and rapped on the door.
Nearly instantly, Kit opened the door. They were young, only a year older than Zack, and they wore a red collar with Roger’s crest tag hanging from it. They’d dyed their hair a deep cherry red, which Roger found to be a shame because he liked theirbeautiful brown hair. That evening, they wore a plain black V-neck T-shirt with jeans. Their eyes were a brown-green hazel.
They brightened with a smile when they laid eyes on Roger. Though they were two inches shorter than him, they had a youthful lankiness to them that their style accentuated.
“Good evening,” Roger said with a warm smile.
“Please come in, master.” Kit opened the door and slightly bowed their head.
Roger stepped inside and gently shut the door. Kit’s invitation hadn’t been necessary since Roger had been in the house before, but their politeness was nice. “Are we alone?”
“Yes, master,” Kit said.
“I appreciate the diligence, but we are in private. No need to keep up the pretenses.”
A flicker crossed Kit’s features, and they tucked a stray strand of hair behind their ear. The two of them left the small foyer and headed into the living room. A stack of luggage was beside the television stand. Various pieces didn’t match the others and showed signs of wear. Roger had offered to buy them a new set, but Kit had turned him down.
Because they had their own things, not like Zack and I.
“Am I bringing too much?” Kit asked.
“Of course not,” Roger said smoothly, burying the conflicting grief thinking about Zack occasionally brought up. If Zack hadn’t chosen to stay with Roger, then he might not have lost his family.Though what “family” tosses aside their child for knowing the difference between right and wrong.
Roger sat on the couch and then held up the box he had brought with him. “I brought a present for you.”
“They came in?” Kit joined Roger on the couch and eagerly took the box. “I thought Zack was wearing a new one during our lesson.”
Roger relaxed against the couch, one arm resting on the back, one leg over the other, and angled so he was in the corner facing Kit. “How are your studies going?”
“I’ve seen the manners in practice for ages, master,” Kit replied. They furrowed their brow and set the box on the end table beside them. “Zack’s making me memorize every supernatural species’ weaknesses. I know that Chicago is a dangerous place, but I don’t think knowing that demon-possessed people will vomit when presented with a holy symbol while invoking a deity matters, does it?”
“Zack believes knowledge is the best form of self-protection, and he is the head pet,” Roger said.
“Am I going to have to fight?” Kit asked.
Fear trickled into the air with their words. Roger sifted through what he could sense of Kit’s feelings. Overall, Kit thirsted for somethingmore, a sensation that reminded Roger of when he would stand at the edge of a ship and stare out into the distance. But that lust for the place beyond the horizon was tempered with the fears of the unknown.
The fewer who knew Roger was after Seamus’s position in the coven and planning to kill him and Anton, the safer the plan and those he cared about would be. One couldn’t share what they didn’t know. Kit had to remain in the dark for their own good.
“You have to remember, Zack was raised a hunter. His family trained him to watch for threats from every corner.” Roger let the words sit for a moment, then added, “His cautious nature will help us stay safe. That’s one reason I gave him the black collar.”
“That and he’s your boyfriend,” Kit said. “And I’m just a donor.”
Roger leaned forward and took their hands in one of his and touched their cheek with his other. Kit raised their gaze from their lap. He smiled at them, imbuing the gesture with as muchwarmth as he could manage. Joining Roger’s collection and the coven should be a positive experience for Kit. He wished Zack could relax for a moment and find the adventure, but that wasn’t Zack’s way.
“I care for you,” Roger said. “Don’t doubt that.”
“I don’t,” Kit said with a soft sigh. The trickle of fear faded. “You came to feed, right?”
“Yes, little fox,” Roger replied. His hunger ached deeper, etching its way into his bones. He brushed Kit’s hair back from their face and then trailed his fingers around to the clasp of their collar. “May I?”
“Yes, master.” Kit’s voice was quiet but filled to the brim with want.
The heavy desire in their tone only fueled the fire carving through Roger. His fangs were always present, but moments like this reminded him of their length and sharpness. Every nerve in him was sizzling from his thirst. And he used his own want for Kit’s blood as a magnet to draw the lust upward in their consciousness. As he undid and slid Kit’s collar off, they moaned and their eyes fluttered shut.
Roger drew them onto his lap, and Kit straddled him, one knee on either side digging into the couch. Kit was pliant to his touch—a side-effect of the magic Roger used on him. Still tugging on their lust, Roger gently threaded his fingers in their hair and pulled their head to the side.
Kit panted, their breath hot against Roger’s cheek. They were a were-fox and naturally ran warmer than the average mortal. Their scent was laden with the smell of freshly washed fur and a mortal metallic zing.
