“I told him that before,” Roger said.
“Habit, ma—therfucker,” Vincent replied.
Nathaniel snorted and cracked a grin, which was rare for him. The mirth lasted only the flash of an instant. He opened the door wider and stepped out of the way. Handing off a set of keys to Vincent, he said, “I’ve got an apartment upstairs. Aluminum key opens the door at the top of the steps here, brass is for my door. It’s third floor, door on the left. Quick and quiet as you can.”
Vincent took the keys and headed up the staircase just inside the door.
Roger stepped inside and was about to thank Nathaniel, but Nathaniel shook his head sharply. He hooked his thumb over his shoulder toward the door leading from the kitchen to the bar. “Place is full up. I’ll come up in an hour to check on you. Should be slower then.”
The kitchen wasn’t empty either. Determined not to fall for false safety again, Roger dipped down into his deeper senses.
Something odd was going on with how he could perceive the world. His hunger remained where it was, the burning, grating sensation in his throat, but he could feel out the others in the room. But not their emotions, what they were.
It was like running his hand across fabric and discerning the shape hiding underneath. The woman coming to the windowand gathering an order was a shifter; the boy washing dishes was human; Nathaniel was a vampire, and so was the cook, a Black girl who looked like a teenager, working the grill.
Nathaniel shivered and narrowed his eyes. “What was that? No. Never mind. Get going.”
Withdrawing his new odd sense, Roger trucked up the stairs behind Vincent. They made their way up to Nathaniel’s apartment. It was a humble place compared to the lap of luxury that Roger had been living in for two and a half centuries. Yet there was a comfort in the lack of ostentatious furniture. Nathaniel’s couch had a threadbare corner on an armrest, otherwise it was in fine shape. The chair next to it didn’t match, but it was low and solid. Two large bookcases held scores of books. Most of them were paperbacks, and many had well-worn spines. A few beer bottles were strewn across the coffee table, along with a copy ofOver My Grave, one of Ezra’s books written under the pen name HT Moss.
The kitchen was connected to the living room, with only a small table to declare it a new space. One counter was crowded with bottles of alcohol. The sink had a few dishes in it. Altogether, the small open area was about the size of the master bedroom of Roger’s hotel suite.
“What do we do?” Vincent asked as he shut the door behind Roger.
“We clean up Kit, then you, then me. After that, the two of you try to get some sleep.”
Since stitching up Kit, Vincent had remained in a more methodical demeanor. He no longer radiated an intense fear. He set down the luggage in the living room and began to investigate the apartment. Poking around in the kitchen/living room didn’t take him long, even though he gave a cursory glance through the cabinets.
Roger carried Kit into the bathroom and flicked on the light with his elbow. Luckily, Nathaniel had a tub, which suited Roger’s purposes. He set Kit down in it and began to undress them. Their beautiful dress was already ruined, but he carefully removed it and the tuxedo half-jacket. After stripping them, Roger turned on the faucet to begin filling the tub.
A soft shimmer danced across Kit’s skin, and their foxlike features melted away into their human ones. Their breath became ragged on the ends, and their eyes fluttered open. They croaked, “Wh-what happened?”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Roger murmured as he leaned in closer so they could see him without straining. “We’re safe now. You’re still healing. Try not to move.”
“Hurts.”
“I’ll find something for the pain.” Roger planted a kiss on their forehead and then stood.
A medicine cabinet sat above the sink. Its door had edges like it’d held a mirror at some point, but Nathaniel had removed it. Most vampires didn’t like the reminder that they lacked reflections.
Inside were a few packaged toothbrushes, a stack of soap bars, and a top shelf lined with opaque prescription bottles. The maker’s logo belonged to Coldwell Apothecary, a small chain of mage-run pharmacies. Mundane mortals didn’t know about the stores’ secret magical offerings.
Vampires and shifters shared a weakness to healing, and both had quickened healing speeds, but certain herbs could dull a vampire’s pain while harming a shifter. Zack and Takashi would’ve known which of these drugs would hurt Kit. Roger swallowed the drop of grief before it could swell and drown him. “Vincent, come here, please.”
The apartment was so small it took Vincent only seconds to arrive at his side. “Yes, master?”
“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?” Roger said sternly.
The thin layer of Vincent’s calm cracked, and fragility seeped into his blue eyes. He stepped to the side of the doorway, as if he intended to duck behind the wall if Roger moved the wrong way. But his voice was firm as he said, “You claimed me.”
“To protect you from him. When we get through this night, we can talk about what you need from me, but I will never demand anything of you, Vincent. I didn’t get you out to make you my boy.” Roger handed him the bottles. “Do you know if any of these would be safe for Kit?”
“He goes to Coldwell’s? Classy.” Vincent took the bottles from him and sorted through them. “This one is like emergency anti-anxiety, this one’s a daily antidepressant. No wonder Nathaniel always seems so well-adjusted. He’s actually doing something for his mental health.”
“You know him?” Roger asked.
“Only by reputation. Met him a couple of times. He’s kicked me out of his bar for being too young. Other vampires claim he’s ‘weak on mortals,’ but that just means he’s not a dick.” Vincent started putting away the bottles that wouldn’t be of any use.
That brought him into close proximity with Roger. With the remnants of fear-filled sweat dried to his skin, Vincent smelleddelicious. His heartbeat began to echo through Roger, overwhelming the sound of rushing water from the bathtub. And though Roger had dismissed the idea of keeping him as a pet, he was a beautiful boy. The left side of his neck had a few scar marks from previous bites. Did he ever enjoy it?
