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“I was on my way home from work, same as any other night. I was on swing shift, and most of my crew drifted off to the local bar to suck back a beer or two before they headed home to the missus.” His voice was even and soft, without accent to tell what region he came from. “I didn’t have a missus, for reasons I bet you can guess.” He gave Carson a squeeze. “There was a noise from the side of the road, like an animal in distress. I walked to work most of the time, if the weather was cooperative, so middle of the night out in the country, typically the only sound was whatever I made, and this wasn’t me. I stopped and leaned for a moment against a fencepost, then took a step towards the noise just as the moon came out from behind the clouds, and I saw him. Only for an instant, but it made an impression. Unkempt, hair long and tangled, mustache hanging far over his top lip, full beard down to the middle of his chest all matted with sticks and weeds.” He paused then, until Carson thought he’d burst with the need to prompt a continuation of the story. Eventually, Mathias began talking again on his own, and Carson couldn’t keep his sigh of relief inside. “So I saw him, moonlight streaming down, and then I woke up in the middle of a field three days later, staring up into the sun, burning from the outside in. Crying out, because my God, did it hurt, but she called to me until I wanted nothing more than to stare into her light until I was a crisped husk. Somehow, I dragged myself towards the promise of shade, a cluster of bushes fifty yards away. I didn’t know what had happened, and in that instant, there wasn’t any trying to make sense of it all. My body knew what it needed, and I gave way to that innate drive to survive, clawing through thorns and vines that threatened to hold me in place. By the time I hunkered down in the slim slice of shadow, the backs of my hands had blistered, wept pink-tinged fluid, and blistered again. My face had to be just as bad, the way it all hurt, but my hands took the brunt of that exposure.”

“What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t, not then. I was existing, nothing more. And even that was in question for weeks afterwards. I got caught out in the sun again the next day, not understanding the feelings it caused inside me. It was only for a few minutes that time, but the still-healing scabs broke open again with the sun. I hid out in the woods for a week, trying to make sense of anything, ignoring this overwhelming hunger that was growing in me day by day.” He pulled in air through his nose, and under Carson’s cheek, Mathias’ chest rose and rose. “That hunger. Ungodly. It felt as if every cell in my body was half-starved, demanding nourishment, but I didn’t know from what. I tried a few things, roots of plants I recognized, berries hidden on the vines under the trees. The few things I could choke down didn’t stay with me; I’d chuck them up within minutes. But the hunger, it never faded. No matter what.” Another long inrush of air. “Every time I’d get caught out, that hunger, that need deep in my belly, intensified.”

“How did you figure it out?” Carson’s palm rested over Mathias’ heart, and at his question, he felt it jump again, as if it had taken a break for a few moments. “When did you know?”

Mathias was silent for a long time, the kind of silence that carried weight. His fingers traced idle, possessive patterns along Carson’s ribs, blunt nails scraping lightly enough to raise gooseflesh. When he finally spoke, his gravel-filled voice had roughened further, threaded with old shame and darker pleasure.

“I figured it out the only way a desperate, half-mad creature can,” he said. “The hunger had become a living thing inside me—a gnawing rat chewing through my guts night and day. Even the blood of a rabbit I managed to catch with shaking hands. It was thin, metallic, barely enough to wet my throat. It dulled the edge for an hour, maybe two, but then the rat woke twice as vicious.”

Carson felt the tremor that ran through Mathias’ powerful frame. He shifted closer, offering silent comfort as the man continued.

“Then one night, a wanderer stumbled into the thicket where I was hiding. Drunk. Lost. Reeking of cheap whiskey, sweat, and fear. The scent of him hit me like lightning—warm, living blood pumping just under sun-weathered skin. My body moved before my mind caught up.”

Mathias’ hand tightened on Carson’s hip, fingers digging in with restrained strength.

“I dragged him down into the leaves. He barely had time to shout before I was on him, fangs—God, I didn’t even know I had fangs until that moment—sinking into the side of his throat. The first rush...” Mathias exhaled sharply, the sound edged with both horror and dark, lingering ecstasy. “Hot. Thick. Copper and salt and life. It flooded my mouth, slid down my throat like liquid fire, chasing the rat away for the first time since I’d woken burned and broken under that merciless sun. My whole body sang with it. Every cell drank him in. I felt my heart stutter back to life, my cock harden against his leg even as I fed. The pleasure was obscene. Addictive. I wanted to drown in it.”

Carson’s breath caught at the raw confession, his own body responding with a low thrum of arousal mixed with unease.

“I took too much,” Mathias continued, voice dropping to a rough rasp. “He went limp in my arms, heartbeat fluttering like a dying bird. The guilt hit me then—crushing, nauseating. I tore my mouth away, blood still dripping down my chin, and stared at what I’d done. This man who’d done nothing but wander down the wrong path. I left him there, stumbling away through the woods with his blood singing in my veins and his terrified cries echoing in my skull. I hated myself. I vomited what I could, but the high stayed with me for days. That first true feeding...it was ecstasy and damnation braided so tightly together that I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. I was alone for a long time after that, before I began to gather my camp.”

Carson noted the title, images of Rolf, the woman, and the other man flashing through his mind. They’re part of his group. His camp. That’s why they left me alone.

“That is what I am, love,” Mathias murmured, the words vibrating straight into Carson’s blood. “A creature born in horror and pleasure. And you...you call to that part of me like nothing else ever has.”

Chapter Five

Carson

Silence stretched between them, heavy with the weight of confession. Mathias shifted them again, drawing Carson partly over his body. Carson propped up on an elbow and traced a slow circle over Mathias’ chest, feeling the unnatural coolness warm slightly under his touch. “And the camp? You said you weren’t alone forever. How many are there of you?”

Mathias hummed, the vibration rumbling through both their bodies. His hand slid up Carson’s spine, fingers splaying wide as if mapping territory already claimed. “Camps form out of necessity. We’re not a hive mind, no ancient king ruling us all. Just camps—small groups bound by sires and dams. I became a sire by accident, gathering strays who would have walked into the sun without guidance. Gina, my dam, nurtures the young ones. Zeke...he’s the steady one, the brother I never had in life. We move when we must, create illusions for reapings so we can feed without needless death. The Sun’s Call grows louder with every decade. She’s a jealous bitch, whispering promises of peace and release. For me, she’s louder now than she’s been in years. Because of how things are right now between us. Because of you.”

Carson lifted his head, searching Mathias’ face in the dimness. Those dark eyes held him, pupils blown wide, pulling him in like the snare he’d felt that first night. “Me?”

“You.” Mathias’ voice dropped to a steamy rumble, hypnotic and commanding even without intent. “An ethereal link. Rare as starfall. Your blood sings to me, Carson. It grants me warmth, restarts this dead heart when I’m with you. Makes me feel incredibly alive.” His fingers threaded through Carson’s hair gently, each touch silky soft. “But links like ours are dangerous. They distort boundary lines. Feed too often, give you even a drop of my essence, and you risk Renfieldism—that would end with you losing yourself, becoming a thrall. Mind decaying while your body craves only me.”

The words should have terrified him. Instead, Carson’s breath hitched as Mathias smoothly rolled them again, pinning him to the mattress once more with that welcome weight. The vampire’s body aligned perfectly, cool skin fusing to heated flesh, borrowed heat surging where they pressed together. Mathias’ mouth hovered at his throat, lips brushing the sensitive spot that had haunted him for weeks.

“That is what I am, love,” Mathias said. “This is everything I am.”

“Not everything. I see it in your eyes. You’re gentle and kind, and loving.” Carson shook his head.

“Let me show you,” Mathias murmured, voice dropping into that velvet-gloved compulsion—the rich, satin-wrapped command that slipped past every defense and coiled around Carson’s will like warm, inescapable chains. “Feel what only I can give you.”

Carson tried to speak, to push back against the hypnotic pull, but the words dissolved on his tongue. This is dangerous. This is ruin. Yet his body was arching, traitorously seeking more contact.

Mathias’ callused hand slid down his side in a slow, deliberate tease. Blunt nails dragged lightly over his ribs, then lower, tracing the crease of his hip with maddening patience. Every pass left trails of fire and ice, raising gooseflesh and making his cock throb painfully against his stomach. Mathias’ thumb circled the sensitive skin just above his groin, never quite touching where Carson desperately needed him.

“You feel it,” Mathias murmured, lips brushing Carson’s ear, voice sinking deeper into compulsion. “The snare tightening. Your body already knows it belongs to me. Let go, beautiful one. Surrender to the high.”

Carson whimpered, a broken sound caught in his throat. Terror clawed up his spine like icy fingers, his stomach twisting into knots as his mind screamed warnings: This is addiction. This is how you lose yourself. Fight it. This isn’t you. His pulse hammered in his ears, a frantic drumbeat of panic, while cold sweat prickled across his skin.

But his body betrayed him utterly. His hips rolled upwards of their own accord, chasing the promise of that strong, callused hand with shameless desperation. Heat flooded his groin, his cock throbbing painfully hard, leaking against his belly despite the fear still churning in his gut. Every breath came shorter, laced with the spice-musk scent of Mathias that made his mouth water and his thoughts fracture.

His mind knew the danger—the slow unraveling of addiction, the loss of self, the ruin waiting if he surrendered completely—yet his body burned for the inhuman touch it had been craving for weeks, muscles trembling with a raw, humiliating need.