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VINCENT

The more time I spent with Julian, the happier and more content I felt. My previous worries began to seem unimportant. I remained careful, but it no longer felt like much of an effort. Sure, there were moments when I worried that hunger might get the best of me—times when my baser instincts tugged at me. Yet I felt such a connection with Julian. I couldn’t imagine hurting him. Maybe this was what I’d been missing all along. A mate, someone to share my life with, care for, and protect. It all felt perfectly right.

My only remaining worry was losing Julian. I still hadn’t shared the depth of my feelings with him. I didn’t want to push him away or force him into anything he wasn’t comfortable with. I understood that protecting Julian meant not pressuring him into a lasting commitment. However, my initial resolve to find a better place for Julian, away from me, was weakening.

I fantasized about finding a place where Julian and I would never be separated, about building a permanent life for us. But deep down, I knew it was a dream. I’d made a promise, and I would keep it. I would do everything I could to give Julian a choice about where we went and whether we ended up together. I would not trap him with manipulation any more than I could lock him away.

And what if Julian didn’t want me after all this? What if, once we found others, Julian didn’t want to be used as he was now? That would probably kill me, but I would go. I would respect that choice. I would do whatever was best for Julian; this was my driving need—to protect my mate. It had to be Julian’s choice. But as long as the snow remained on the ground, we were safe; the relationship was safe. And I was whole.

Now that Julian was more comfortable with my help around the house, I decided to take it upon myself to get fresh meat for him. It only seemed fair. Julian provided for all my dietary needs, and it felt good to do the same in return.

Over the next two weeks, I hunted regularly. I mostly caught small game, things that could be consumed within a few days. One evening, I set out on a hunt. As I walked through the dense forest, I considered the options for Julian’s dinner. Rabbits and squirrels were the most abundant. Just as I prepared to dart out to grab a particular rabbit, another sound caught my attention. It was the thudding of a much larger heart, not far away. A deer had walked onto the slope just below where I crouched.

I was already poised to strike the rabbit, but the thought of chasing down and subduing such a powerful animal thrilled me. I refocused on the deer and began to stalk it deliberately. Circling the creature, I found a better angle and launched myself forward. The deer, startled by the sudden movement, bolted, and I pursued, fangs bared, at full speed. As I gave chase, the animal’s strong, rapid heartbeat stirred something within me. The power of it was overwhelming.

I caught up to the massive mammal, intending to grab its antlers and break its neck. As I drew closer, however, I hurled myself at the creature and attacked with all the strength and ferocity of a starved vampire. The deer and I slid to a halt, locked in a struggle. Blood poured from the wound in the animal’s throat, drenching my face and chest and streaming down my legs as I drank. And oh, it felt good to drink with abandon. Once I realized what I was doing, I stopped and pushed the dying deer away from me in disgust.

What the hell had just happened?

The blood was warm and smelled appealing, but I knew my body would reject it. Just as a human could not receive a transfusion from a cow, my body could not absorb this animal’s blood. The fluid sloshed in my stomach, mocking my attempt to feed. I felt disgusted and ashamed. With no choice, I brought it back up onto the forest floor. I couldn’t believe what I’d done, but there was no denying it. I was covered in the deer’s blood from head to toe.

I hauled the carcass past the house and set it by a nearby tree, where I could hang and dress it. But there was the matter of my attire. I knew it was a bad sign that I’d lost control during the hunt, and I was embarrassed. I didn’t want Julian to see what I’d done. I was about to strip off my clothes when Julian stepped onto the porch, his face tight with worry.

“Vincent?” he said, his tone placing a heavy weight on that one word.

“Yeah, I know it looks bad.”

“You doing okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” I said, looking down at my blood-soaked clothes. My tone was apologetic, but it didn’t convey half of what I felt.

Julian walked down the steps, keeping his eyes on me in the moonlight. “I was on the porch when you dragged the deer over. You didn’t seem to notice me, and honestly, the sight of you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

I nodded. “I was out hunting and got a little carried away.”

“I can see that,” Julian said, walking over to the deer’s body cooling in the snow. “Vincent, you ripped its throat out. I thought you said you couldn’t eat animals?”

“I can’t. I don’t know what came over me.” I looked down at the ground beneath my boots, stained red.

“I do. You’re hungry.”

“I don’t know. I’m afraid it’s not that simple.” The truth of the act was clear. I was not fully in control.

“You need to eat more. I could be giving you more, and you know it,” Julian said.

“No, you can’t. But we’ll figure this out. I need to think and get cleaned up.”

Julian didn’t respond, so I left him there with proof of what I was capable of and went to wash up.

After that, I promised myself I’d be more careful. I wouldn’t hunt large game and would avoid deer and elk herds when they were near. I’d stay close to home unless I was collecting supplies from town or nearby houses. I’d no longer allow myself to move at full speed. Whenever I returned home from a hunt, I’d call out to Julian before reaching the house so he would know I was approaching and have a sense of my mental state. I’d do everything I could to avoid triggering a lapse, to keep myself grounded and in control, and to keep Julian safe. But try as I might, I knew I couldn’t control everything.

And, in truth, I was hungry all the time.

The following days were difficult. I tried to banish the worry that kept plaguing me. I had a system in place. It wasn’t perfect, but it was working—for now.

I was considering what else I could do as I walked back to the house after cutting wood for the growing pile. As I stepped onto the porch, stomping my boots free of snow, I caught a familiar scent wafting from inside. I paused, noticing the door was ajar. I rushed to the door and swung it wide open. Nathaniel sat in a chair by the fireplace, facing the entrance. His eyes were wild, and his hair and clothes were disheveled. He was clearly starving. But none of that held my attention. No, all my focus was on Julian, my mate, who knelt on the floor next to the chair, with Nathaniel’s hand gripping the back of his neck, holding him in place.