Technically Dead

By TIA FIELDING

NOVELS By Any Other Name Technically Dead

NOVELLAS Auld Lang Syne Chuffed Something New Thank My Lucky Scars

Published by DREAMSPINNER PRESS http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com

Copyright

Published by Dreamspinner Press 382 NE 191st Street #88329 Miami, FL 33179-3899, USA http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Technically Dead Copyright © 2012 by Tia Fielding Cover Art by Shobana Appavu [email protected] All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 382 NE 191st Street #88329, Miami, FL 33179-3899, USA http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ ISBN: 978-1-61372-610-5 Printed in the United States of America First Edition July 2012 eBook edition available eBook ISBN: 978-1-61372-611-2

DEDICATION Bran and Heath wouldn’t be here without some important people who have made my life so much fun in recent years. This one is for Sam, Alex, Shayne, and Cian, and so many more. And most of all, this is for Stacey, because without her, most of those guys wouldn’t exist. (Yes, this one you have to read….)

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS This book wouldn’t be half of what it is now without Shira’s and Helen’s help when I needed it. I’m also eternally grateful to Shae for her patience with the endless questions about Atlanta. Thanks, girls. If we ever meet face to face, the first drinks are on me. Without Miya’s and Jo’s pep talks when I need them, I might not be even writing. So the same goes for you two as well. And finally, Dreamspinner’s editorial team, you guys rock more than you know.

Part One

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Chapter 1

IT HAD been such a fucked-up day, Bran wondered how he’d made it this far. He had even taken a cab instead of going to the Garnett MARTA station. Usually it wasn’t a big deal; the commute was what it was, and he was used to it. Right now, after having worked from six in the morning until four in the afternoon, he was ready to spend money he didn’t really have to get away from downtown as soon as possible. The endlessly stretching shifts were typical these days; even though they were supposed to last eight hours, tops, he had yet again spent ten hours at the Trinity Shelter to finish things up. Today it hadn’t even been vampires that caused the trouble. No, it was a human, a middle-aged, drunken human at that. A woman who was at least five inches shorter than Bran’s own five foot ten had tried to push him around, insisting she was young enough to stay at the shelter, which only allowed teenagers. Pushing Bran was something no vampire would do, not for any reason. They knew better than to touch Bran, for which he was both extremely happy and constantly annoyed for completely contradicting reasons, ones he preferred not to think about. This drunken woman—Bran wasn’t going to call her a lady—had pushed his shoulder so hard she had almost sent him down a flight of stairs. Not only that, but when he instinctively grabbed her jacket to balance himself, she shrieked bloody murder and really pushed him. Luckily, that time it wasn’t toward the nearby stairs, because that would have certainly meant fractured bones. He paid for the cab and winced when he got up from the backseat. Jesus, his hip was killing him. The impact with the side table in the

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hallway hadn’t been as bad as a tumble down the stairs to the basement, but it was sure as hell was worse than hitting a wall instead. He limped toward the apartment building and marveled at the fact that his boss and colleague, Sheila, had told him to come in late the next morning. That was good—at least he’d get proper rest tonight. He’d need it tomorrow evening after work. It was one of the “Guys’-Night-Out” Fridays tomorrow, and he really needed to blow off some steam. In the elevator, he leaned against the wall, and Mrs. Chenoweth from the third floor frowned at him when she stepped inside from the second floor. It was too big a building to know everyone who lived there, but Mrs. Chenoweth had once been a stage actress, and she’d never let anyone forget that. She’d been in one of her secret meetings with her so-called secret lover, another wealthy widower living in the building. “Afternoon, Mrs. C,” Bran said politely. “Brandon.” She nodded, the frown lessening a little. That was all they had time for before the doors dinged at her floor and she toddled away. Bran let his eyes close, only to be startled by the ding when the elevator stopped at the sixth floor. He dragged himself out of the too-fancy-for-an-elevator box and walked to the left side of the hallway and the door marked 605. Bran unlocked the door and stepped in. “Honey, I’m home!” he called out and kicked his boots off. By the time he was hanging his leather jacket on the coatrack by the door, there was an enthusiastic little sound, and when he turned around, he got an armful of grinning blond. “Was it bad?” Kris asked him after hugging him and kissing him soundly on the lips. “Yeah, watch my hip,” Bran said, gasping softly when the younger man accidentally poked the bruised area. “Okay, sorry. We need to take a look at that. Who was it this time and are you hurt anywhere else?” Kris asked in a worried tone, one Bran knew well enough by now. Kris was the one who worried the most, even though he was also the most levelheaded of the people closest to Bran.

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“First of all, shower. Then food. Then whatever you want to do with it.” Bran headed toward the bathroom instead of the open kitchen area on the opposite side of the luxurious apartment. Kris took Bran’s hand and smiled in a way that made Bran feel like it was him who was ten years younger than the other man, instead of the other way around. He was being placated and he knew it. “Sorry…. It was just a really long day,” he sighed and ran his fingers through his messy dark-brown hair. “It’s okay, honey.” Kris smiled and left him to strip next to the hamper while he went to put on the steam Bran loved so much. “Are you joining me?” Bran asked, smirking and suddenly coming up with all sorts of things Kris could do to make him feel much better. “Of cour—holy shit!” Kris’s grin turned into a grimace when he took in the damage on Bran’s hip. “Oh… it colored even more during the drive here.” Bran stretched himself to take a better look at his whole hip, now a bruised dark purple. “I’ll say….” Kris stripped off his T-shirt and lounge pants before stepping into the shower after Bran. “Let me take care of you….” Bran stood in the steam for a while, enjoying the smooth glide of Kris’s hands over his chest and stomach. Then Kris stepped behind Bran and began to knead his sore muscles, eliciting the dirtiest moans from Bran. After a while, Bran realized he had only so much time before he’d want to sit down, and he’d prefer to do it on the couch or at least at the booth-like table in the kitchen. He turned on the water and stayed still while Kris used some lovely mild citrus bodywash and even washed Bran’s hair for him with Kris’s own shampoo. By the time Bran was clean, relaxed, and ready to step out of the shower, he felt Kris’s hands slide down his chest with purpose. He opened his eyes to blink at the blond suddenly kneeling in front of him. Kris looked up at him with clear challenge in his pretty blue eyes. Bran stepped back a little, leaned against the wall, and smiled lazily. Kris grinned and followed him on his knees.

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It really didn’t take long for him to get going, watching the lightly muscled young man at his feet, feeling the very talented mouth on his cock and fingers teasing his perineum when they weren’t expertly rolling his balls. “Fuck…. Either you’re a genius—” Bran gasped as his hips decided to ignore his commands to stay still. “Or I’m too fucking easy….” At the exact moment he groaned, jerked his hips forward, and shot his release into Kris’s mouth, the bathroom door opened and a gorgeous older man stepped in. “I thought I heard you come in,” the newcomer said through the glass. His expression was amused as he leaned against the counter behind him. “You about done? I ordered Chinese.” “Almost there,” Kris, who was now furiously jerking his own cock, gasped. Bran felt come hit his leg and smiled at the sight of the flushed blond trying to gather his breath. “What the hell happened to your hip?” the salt-and-pepper-haired man asked in a tone that was very clearly both upset and disapproving. He held out a towel for Bran. Bran stepped into his arms and sighed contentedly. “It’s nothing, Ric. Some drunken woman pushed me against a table.” He hummed, trying to hold onto the relaxed feeling. “Bran….” Ric stopped before he could give the usual safety-first speech. Bran assumed Kris had shot the older man a hard look. “Can I have a kiss instead of a lecture?” Bran asked, hating the small wince he was unable to hide as he moved to grab another towel for his hair. Ric rolled his eyes but leaned down to kiss him gently, licking Bran’s lips before giving him a proper kiss. There was a moan from behind Bran, and both of them smiled into the kiss before pulling apart. “Fine, you get one too.” Ric pulled Kris to his chest while Bran stepped away to dry his hair.

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Bran smiled, watching the others make out like teenagers. They were an oddly suitable couple, against all odds. Ric was young at almost fifty, and Kris was an old soul for a twentysomething. Most of the time you couldn’t tell who was older in spirit or how big their age difference really was. Bran and Ric had broken up a little over two years ago, and Bran was glad that Ric had found someone like Kris not long after. The fact that they both loved Bran and Bran loved them was a plus. They would never work as a ménage relationship, but they had fun in bed occasionally. Ric and Bran’s ship had sailed long ago, and the three of them had an understanding that made it possible to stretch their friendship into something more physical when they wanted or— like today—needed it. The distinct sound of the door buzzer interrupted the make-out session, and Ric went to get their food. Kris headed to the master bedroom to get dressed, and Bran walked to the guest room that was more or less officially his room, despite him having his own—well, it was rented from Ric, but still—house in Candler Park. It was good that he had clothes here; he would have hated to put his grimy work clothes back on. Instead he grabbed fresh underwear and a T-shirt before pulling on some clean—designer, because they were an old birthday present from Ric—jeans he took from the dresser drawer. He found the others in the kitchen, eating at the booth that was large enough for all of them. There was a longneck in front of the empty seat, and Bran grinned as he sat down. They stayed mostly quiet while they ate, the only words exchanged about bartering for food— ”What will you give me for an extra spring roll?” When Bran was finally full and most of the food had vanished from the table, their collective sigh of contentment made them crack up. “Let me guess,” Bran said as he pointed a finger at Kris, “you were studying.” Then he pointed at Ric. “And you were doing some weird thing at your computer?” “Oh yes.” Ric stretched, and Bran could almost hear his joints popping. “How about I’ll clean up here and you two go and pick a movie to watch?” Kris got up and began to gather the empty containers.

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“I was going to go—” “Nope. Movie,” Ric said firmly, and that was that. The older men walked into the media room that was in some ways better than going to a movie theater. The screen wasn’t that big, but it was still massive in the room, and the sound system was great too. The bonus side was that there were no kids, no cell phones, and nobody would be chatting. There weren’t tall people blocking the view, either. “Are we counting on Kris getting bored?” Bran asked as he took his usual seat in one of the comfortable plush chairs. “Oh yes….” Ric’s tone was a purr that made Bran chuckle. They had done this countless times, and Kris was onto them for sure, but it seemed like the whole idea worked like a charm. When Kris got bored during a movie, he would fidget first. Then he’d pick a target—either Ric or Bran—and slide to the floor to find something more fun to do. Like giving a blowjob, whether it was asked for or not. After that, it was mostly trying to watch a movie while you were getting or watching someone else get a blowjob right next to you. More often than not, the movie would be forgotten and they’d head to the master bedroom, either all three of them or some other combination. The thing was, while Bran played with Ric and Kris, he wasn’t part of their relationship. He could just as easily leave the others to it and go home. Tonight it seemed like Ric wanted him to stay, though, so he probably would. They made a valiant effort to watch a European action movie that was pretty good, until Kris began to twitch. “Should we just pause this and let the kid out of his misery?” Bran asked, and just like that, his lap was full of blond. He barely registered Ric shutting down the system, being glued to Kris and his lovely mouth. Hell, the boy knew how to kiss! “Okay, now, kids, let’s go to the bedroom.” Ric manhandled Kris off Bran’s lap and pulled them both out of the room and down the hall to the huge bedroom. The bed there could have hosted a small-scale orgy, and they always had fun in it. For a few moments, things turned frantic: kissing, groping, undressing. By some minor miracle, they all managed to get into bed.

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Bran lay on his side—the one that didn’t have a bruise the size of his head on the hip—with Kris in front of him, kissing him with the usual abandon. Bran heard Ric fish out some condoms and lube from the nightstand, and then the warmth of another body settled against Bran’s back. “This okay?” Ric asked, carefully rubbing Bran’s thigh below the bruise. “Yeah.” Bran nodded, pulling his head away from Kris—who immediately latched onto Bran’s nipple—to kiss Ric over his shoulder. He didn’t bottom often, it was something he mostly reserved for Ric, but he needed to lose himself in his lovers today. They kissed for a moment until Bran groaned at the feel of Ric’s fingers circling his hole and spreading the lube gently. Yeah, it had been a while…. He grabbed the lube and encouraged Kris to turn around. He prepared the wanton blond while Ric prepared him. It always took his breath away a little how synchronized they could be like this. In short order, Ric handed Bran a condom and rolled one on himself. He reveled in the way Ric sounded impatient when he husked, “You first,” into Bran’s ear. Kris moved his leg up and whimpered as Bran gently guided his cock into the blond’s smaller body. It was so good, so fucking good, to be inside a willing body like this. And when Ric penetrated him, everything got so much better it blew his mind. And then there he was, rocking back and forth as much as he could, having the others move with him, against him, and bringing forth enough pleasure that Bran’s frantic mind calmed down and overrode the stress of the day for good. It was like being in a trance, feeling the tight squeeze of Kris’s body and having Ric push into him with precise, measured strokes. The sounds filling the bedroom were intensely erotic, and when one of them—it was unclear which—came first, the others followed in rapid succession, Kris coming all over Bran’s fingers, which were wrapped around his cock. Some minutes later, enough energy returned to Ric for him to pull out of Bran and then wait for Bran to do the same with Kris. Ric went

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to take the condoms to the trash and got a washcloth to clean them all up before crawling into bed with them. Sometimes Bran wondered how much he stayed over for the cuddling afterward.

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Chapter 2

WHEN Bran first met Ric eight or so years ago, he thought the older man was just a rich guy with too little to do. They met at Grady Memorial Hospital, where Bran was a patient. Ric was there visiting his terminally ill uncle. They bumped into each other in the cafeteria a few times; after all, Bran was very good at getting the nurses to let him escape for coffee. He had to use his wheelchair, but since there was next to nothing wrong with his hands, they allowed it. He never told them the stitches on his stomach pulled a lot while he was on his way to the promised land. He wasn’t sure when he first noticed the man with short hair just starting to turn silver at the temples, who always looked like he needed company more than anything. It was something about the man’s clothing, his TAG Heuer watch, and top-of-the-line cell phone that kept Bran at bay. After all, he was just a poor guy who had gone on a bender and ended up on the wrong end of a knife in a nasty bar fight. The thoughts of his bills made his stomach churn. On the third late evening of worrying, when he and Ric happened to cross paths in the cafeteria, he wasn’t paying attention to the older man anymore. Instead it was Ric who walked over to his table and asked if he could sit down. The rest was history, more or less. Slowly but surely they began to talk. They had a lot of common interests, and Ric—Cedric Darrell, a forty-year-old man who had inherited a small fortune and a few incredible pieces of real estate in Atlanta, as Bran later learned—never once treated Bran like the obviously broke guy with very little

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education he was. That was the biggest plus that decided things in Ric’s favor when he asked Bran out at the end of Bran’s hospital stay. Ric’s uncle lived for three more weeks, and it was Bran who accompanied Ric to the funeral. Nobody looked at him funny; nobody thought it odd that he was there, even though he was clearly at least fifteen years younger than Ric. In reality, it was sixteen years, and Bran wondered how he could ever measure up to someone like Ric—suave and with impeccable manners and style. Gradually Ric had him move out of his shitty apartment in Little Five Points and into the huge apartment he had along Peachtree Road in Buckhead, where the rich folk lived. From the beginning, Bran tried to figure out how to pay back everything Ric was doing for him. The older man didn’t want to hear it. For the month or so it took Bran to recover from all his injuries, they tried to figure out what to do about Bran’s growing anxiety over “using Ric.” Sure, Bran had his job as a bartender in a bar downtown, but it wasn’t enough to pay the bills, especially after the fight he had gotten into at another bar…. When he went to work after the brawl and his hospital stay, his boss clearly stated that if he ever fought at work, he’d be fired on the spot. It wasn’t something he liked to do, bartending, but it was a job he had easily gotten, and without much education, he had to grab what he could. Finally Ric came up with an idea: Bran should get his GED, and go from there. Ric would make sure Bran had a roof over his head, food on the table, and eventually, when Bran was done with college— whatever he chose to study and however long it took—and had a job, he could start paying Ric back if he insisted. It took another week of mulling things over before Bran agreed to it. It went against his instincts, which kept insisting he should manage on his own. Luckily his brain managed to convince him that it was a good deal, a once-in-a-lifetime kind of deal. A year later, when Bran had his GED and a whole new view of the world of studying, Ric surprised him with a celebratory vacation abroad. They flew first class across a whole lot of salt water to a country Bran could hardly place on the map. It was midwinter in Finland, and when they finally made it to their destination three rides in

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increasingly smaller planes and an hour or so car ride later, Bran was half-dead from exhaustion and he’d never been so cold in his life. As Ric had promised, it was worth it. Their eventual destination was in the middle of nowhere—Lapland. The sky was black and glittered with stars, and the sparse trees were small and looked somehow poorly. The guide explained that everything around there was different from the rest of the country because they were well above the Arctic Circle. Once they were led into their accommodations, Bran merely stared with his mouth wide open. The guide left them, but Bran never registered it. They were in a strange, large glass igloo. That was the best way he could describe it. The ceiling was glass, and so were most of the walls. There was a double bed on one side and what seemed like a bathroom and a kitchen, both with all the necessities with a hint of luxury, in the more closed space on the other. “You….” Bran blinked and then turned to look at Ric. He cleared his throat and tried again. “This is… too much, Ric.” “No, it’s not. I wanted to take you somewhere unique. This is it.” Ric smiled, walked to him, and wrapped his arms around Bran. “They do honeymoons and stuff, but anyone can rent these. It’s ours for the long weekend.” The word “honeymoon” registered with Bran briefly, and something in his expression must have alerted Ric. “No, nothing like that. I swear.” The hasty words made Bran relax, but the flash of pain in Ric’s eyes made Bran’s heart clench. They had never talked about their relationship, but Bran had a feeling this was his opportunity to come clean. They got rid of most of the layers they had on, and Ric went to the kitchen to find them something to eat. It was nothing fancy, just something the guide had had made for them, but it took the edge off. They could cook the next day, after all. When they had their bellies full and had taken quick showers, they settled into bed. It was very, very late, and they had traveled for way too long. They cuddled for a moment, staring in wonder at the sky above. The twinkling stars and the sudden burst of northern lights took

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Bran’s breath away, and somehow he got the feeling even Ric, who had traveled all around the world, was awed. Eventually, Ric asked a question Bran had been dodging ever since he got out of the hospital a year earlier: “Who paid your hospital bill?” For a moment Bran worried his bottom lip with his teeth and then sighed, curling closer to Ric and the comfort he felt. He wondered what it was that made Ric trust him so implicitly. The man hadn’t asked once after he had avoided the question when they’d started dating. “I’m not sure, but I think it was my ex. Sort of ex.” He frowned a little at his own definition. “He’s a vampire. I met him when I was kicked out of my folks’ house. I was on the streets for a few months, and then winter came…. One night….” Bran hid his face against Ric’s chest for a while. Ric didn’t push him. Instead he stroked Bran’s back with his fingers and gave him all the time he needed. “I had been tricking,” Bran confessed in a whisper and tensed for a moment, waiting for Ric’s reaction. It wasn’t his proudest moment, hustling for money to get food. Ric hugged him tighter for a while and kissed his hair. “So one night, it was really cold; December in Chicago can be brutal. I was walking toward the shelter that I usually slept in, and some guys came out of a club and spotted me. I suppose they knew what I was, just a hustler, and they… they beat me up, knocked me out, and left me in an alley to die.” “Jesus….” Ric exhaled, and for a moment Bran couldn’t breathe because of the tight grip Ric had on him. “The next time I woke up, I was in this fancy house at the lakeside. There was a guy next to me, and I wasn’t feeling that bad. Sure, I was bruised, but that was about it. I learned that he was a vampire, he had stumbled upon me and, for some reason—he never specified why—took me with him and didn’t let me die.” Bran recognized the hint of awe in his tone that he would never ever be able to shake. “Sounds like a decent guy,” Ric stated. “Oh, he was. He never wanted anything from me. In fact he treated me like a kid, which naturally pissed me off, because by then I

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had turned nineteen.” Bran chuckled and Ric snorted a little. “I spent the next year getting to know him. At some point he gave in, and we became lovers too, and….” “And you fell in love with him,” Ric said in a quiet tone. “Yes.” Bran nodded against Ric’s chest. “What happened?” “When the year was up, he kicked me out. No explanation. He gave me a wad of cash, a huge backpack for my clothes he had gotten for me, and he kicked me out.” He barely noticed the tears streaming from his eyes. “What did you do then?” Ric asked, wiping Bran’s eyes with the edge of the comforter that was wrapped around them. “I went into a motel for the next night. The next day I traveled to New York. I had some friends there. But I hated that place and it seemed like the city was nuts, in any case. It was easy to get odd jobs and couch surf with friends, though. I did that for about a year, and then I met this guy, Mickey, and he knew someone who knew someone, and eventually I ended up working in Hawaii for a year. It was nothing fancy, just some resort cleaning and stuff, but I could use my free time learning to surf. It was fun.” “When did you start having these done?” Ric asked, tracing one of the ivy leaf tattoos on Bran’s neck and shoulder. “A year after Heath kicked me out.” Bran smiled a little. It was an almost but not quite bitter smile. It was also the first time he ever mentioned Heath to Ric by name. “Are they in order?” Ric asked, tracing the first one, high up on Bran’s neck. When Bran nodded, Ric said, “Let’s see….” And in the dim mood lights of the igloo, he touched the first leaf. “This sprouts from your pulse point, doesn’t it? So this first leaf is vibrant and healthy, looking for, what, new beginning?” Bran chuckled. “Yes, exactly.” Then he got more serious. “It starts where it starts because I wanted to hide the point where he liked to bite me the most. And because he loathed tattoos in general.” He smirked a little, the old defiance raising its head. “The next one?” Ric asked, trailing the stem of the ivy vine to the next leaf.

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“It has a blue-green edge, for the ocean. That one I had done when I was in Hawaii. That’s where the idea of having them themed came from.” Bran stared at the sky above them, blinking slowly when he felt Ric touch the next leaf. “What’s this one? It looks… rotten, almost. Unhealthy.” “That I had done when I moved from Hawaii and came to Atlanta. I couldn’t understand why no vampire would want me… I mean, at that point I was pretty desperate for… for a vampire.” Again he ducked his head; this time he was truly ashamed. “Were you addicted to the bite?” Ric asked matter-of-factly. “No, no…. It was more like… like I craved the whole thing. Having the cool body against mine, having the whole experience, not just the bite. I wanted a vampire so bad…. Eventually I grabbed a bottle, and it went downhill from there.” Bran had drunk himself to oblivion. Getting the bartending job was the first step in staying mostly dry for an extended time. The second step came the next year; the hospital stay was what woke him up and made him stop drinking almost completely. He drank rarely, and his closest friends looked out for him. They never let him drink more than a little and never for more than two nights in a row, if even that. “Why didn’t they want you?” Ric asked, clearly interested but also torn. Bran guessed it wasn’t easy for Ric to imagine him craving a vampire’s touch. “Because at some point before he kicked me out, he had fed me his blood.” “Wait… what?” Ric asked, propping himself up on one elbow. “He’s over nine centuries old, Ric. He was a crusader. That means he’s so fucking old he could probably have his own court somewhere. It’s all about age when vampires figure out rank among themselves. And when he gave me his blood, he left his mark on me. Other vampires smell his blood, that I’ve been in close contact with someone who they’d call Elder. It will stick with me, his scent, and vampires younger than Heath would never touch me just because they know I’m—” The sob that escaped Bran surprised them both. “Marked. His…,” he finished, and then he was suddenly in Ric’s arms again.

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The next morning they continued the conversation. Ric had figured out that the blood red on the latest leaf Bran had had tattooed on his shoulder was because of his hospital stay. The rest of their weekend was spent mostly staring at the scenery—the igloo was on top of a mountain, and the view was breathtaking—and making love. The last night, as they were lying in bed, staring at the northern lights again, Ric suddenly sighed. “I know you’ll never love me like you love him, but that’s okay. I’ll take what you can give me and I’ll be content with that. I love you, Bran, you know that.” That year’s leaf had a strange shimmer to it, as if it had been sprinkled with stars and a hint of northern lights.

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Chapter 3

WHEN Friday morning rolled around after a good night’s sleep, Bran felt much better. He had insisted on going home for the night, and finally Ric had relented. He had also insisted on driving Bran home, and that was a concession Bran was ready to make to calm the man down. After getting a kiss from Kris and a promise to come over early next week to show off his next tattoo—Kris remembered things like that better than Bran sometimes—Bran left the apartment with Ric, who took him straight to the garage and his posh Mercedes. “You’re quiet,” Ric stated as they began the drive toward Bran’s house. “Kris reminded me of the tattoo. That’s about it,” Bran said, turning his head to look at Ric. “Yeah…. What will it be this year?” he asked, smiling a little. “This is going to sound stupid, but I want it to have a silver lining.” Ric looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded seriously. “No, I get it. It ought to have a silver lining, after all.” Once again Bran sighed, happy that he hadn’t been laughed at and that Ric understood him better than anyone else in the world. The leaf for the year before, his first year of working at the Trinity Shelter, was a vibrant green leaf. There was nothing special about it. He had enjoyed learning the job after graduating. He only had his bachelor’s degree, but the need for social workers was insane, so for now Bran was waiting to get to his master’s.

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They spoke very little on the way, and Bran snapped out of his thoughts when Ric turned the car into his driveway. “Thanks for the ride.” He leaned in to kiss Ric briefly. “You’re welcome, babe. Anytime, you know that.” “I know,” Bran agreed and got out of the car. His house was at the back of the lot, and he liked the privacy. There was an attached garage; his bedroom was above the garage, while the rest of the house was two stories, with the kitchen and dining room downstairs. It wasn’t much, but it was home. Despite Ric’s constant nagging to give Bran a loan so he could get a car instead of taking the MARTA or buses everywhere, he wouldn’t budge. Besides, as Ric himself had said, the man drove him when needed, and sometimes Bran could borrow his best friend Tony’s car. His cell phone rang in his pocket. Speak of the devil. Bran answered the phone as he unlocked his door and went in, flicking the lights on. “Hey, man.” “So you’re alive, nice. I drove past your place when I came to work. There were no lights on,” Tony said in a tone he probably meant to sound nonchalant but didn’t quite succeed. “Oh, honey, I didn’t know you cared so much!” Bran teased him. Then he added, “I went to Ric and Kris’s after work.” “Oh, so you got laid, no wonder you sound so mellow and almost happy.” Tony’s words were suddenly cut off by him telling someone to get more tequila for the horde. “Go work. See you tomorrow after I get off work?” Bran asked, walking up the stairs to go straight to his bedroom. “Yeah, take a cab or something. I’ll cook so we can eat before we go out, wouldn’t want you to keel over from the booze, you lightweight.” Bran snorted. “Har har. See you tomorrow, moron.” “Love you too.” With that, Tony disconnected the call. They had met while Bran was still drinking too much. In some ways, meeting Tony had changed him. At first it was just Bran frequenting the club where Tony worked—as a bartender at the time,

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instead of manager like he was now—and he had started to notice how much Tony regulated his drinking while they chatted during the quiet evenings. Then they went to the movies—as friends, at that point—and then finally hooked up maybe a month later. It was good. Not mindblowing, but they could have some decent fun together. Tony still blamed himself for not being able to keep Bran out of trouble the night Bran ended up in the hospital. He said he had seen Bran wasn’t doing well that night. There had been an edge to Bran, and when he’d gone outside to smoke—a habit he’d gotten rid of since— Tony hadn’t realized the guy he’d been having an argument with had followed Bran. The rest was bloody history, literally. After Bran met Ric, Tony became a friend of Ric’s too. When Bran and Ric finally broke up two years ago, it was Tony who made sure Bran picked up where he left off—without the booze, mostly—and had some fun during his free time. They still hooked up every now and then. Bran wouldn’t be surprised to wake up next to Tony come Saturday morning. Tony was bi and hadn’t been in a relationship for a while. He also disliked hooking up with strangers, something he lectured Bran about occasionally, so sometimes they ended up in bed, and it was all good. They just didn’t have the spark people needed to actually date and form proper relationships. Bran slept extremely well, almost through his alarm going off at eight thirty. Luckily, he was good at waking up quickly when needed, and he dashed out of the door with his travel mug only half an hour later. At the shelter, Bran waved at the few regulars playing a video game in the common room before heading to Sheila’s office in the more official side of the building. The Trinity Shelter was a red brick building that had once upon a time held three different businesses side by side, but was now the roof over the heads of homeless youth, vampires and humans alike. On the left were Sheila, Bran, and a nurse’s offices. In the middle was the common space, with stairs leading upstairs, to what Sheila called the dorms, and downstairs, to what she called the dungeon, which was occupied by vampires.

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Bran didn’t mind vampires, mostly because they didn’t mind him. He was one of the good guys, even for the young, freshly turned ones. Bran wasn’t prejudiced, and he often got kids coming in who had heard about “that cool human guy” from a friend of a friend. To his own credit, he had to say he was making a difference, one kid at a time, fangs or no fangs. “Morning, sunshine!” Sheila grinned at him, and he rolled his eyes. “How’s the herd this morning?” he asked, plopping down into the chair in front of her perpetually messy desk. “Vamps are asleep and so are some of the humans. There was this tiny slip of a girl waiting for me when I got here before six. I fed her and put her in Carmen’s room.” Sheila filed away some papers. “So, you going out tonight?” she asked, leaning back in her chair and sipping from her coffee. They were both caffeine junkies, but apparently it came with the territory. Sometimes Sheila said caffeine dependency was like a requirement for the job. “Yeah, I’m going to Tony’s after work.” Bran nodded, looking around her light and surprisingly airy office. Sheila was closer to sixty than fifty and looked like the warm mother figure she was, spiced up with the spiky platinum blonde hair that contradicted her looks enough to make her seem slightly tough and interesting. “Is Jenna coming in?” Bran asked, looking at the schedule behind her on the wall, but he couldn’t tell what it said on Jenna’s row. “Yes, she should be here before you leave. Marcie is in her office already, and she’s staying until Sam gets here at six or so.” They chatted for a while before Bran had to go fix a meal in the kitchen on the right side of the building. They had kitchen staff, but they only came in to cook dinner, so all other meals for the humans were made by the house staff. Jenna, their third social worker, was usually in charge of feeding the vampires. Volunteer humans came in and donated blood in a separate room in the back of the building, next to the nurse’s office. They didn’t get money for their trouble, but they were people who were concerned and knew that most of the young vampires coming in were just street kids

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who had been on the wrong end of someone’s fangs one night and had had no say in being turned. That was one of the things Bran had never understood—turning someone against their will. But when a vampire drained a human enough, the human became too weak to resist and was at the vampire’s mercy. Or lack thereof. Sure, there were mixed gangs of vampires and humans that turned within their own circle, but those kids usually only came here when they wanted out. The gang problem had diminished some over the past few months. Bran—and the authorities—were sure that someone was either killing or turning these kids for some reason. Sadly, they might never find out, because nobody missed these people, even though they were all someone’s children. Jenna was one of those kids. She was like a daughter to Sheila and had had a similar life to Bran’s, in some ways. She had run away from home when she was just sixteen, and had ended up at the shelter. Ten years later, she lived in a shared apartment not far from the shelter, where she now worked. The only difference was that two years ago, while she had been walking home from some evening classes, she had been attacked by a vampire. To this day Jenna had no idea who turned her, and learning to navigate the new kind of living was pretty damned difficult. Luckily, the bachelor’s degree she had—the same one Bran had—had provided her enough information on vampires to know the basics. Sheila had helped her out with the rest. The thing was, being turned was something Jenna now saw as a blessing. She could help more, she said. The vampire kids trusted her, and she understood them better than any human could. She had taken it all in stride, something Bran wasn’t sure he could have done himself. As soon as he had a ton of scrambled eggs and toast on the table, the horde descended. It was like they smelled food the same way the vampire kids smelled blood, and then they came running. The shy new girl was there too, and one of their older regular kids, Carmen, had clearly taken her under her wing. They offered these kids food and shelter, and some days volunteers came in to teach them job skills or one of the older ones who had more education did it themselves. Some of them went to one of the free-of-charge schools in the area. Things had changed in the past thirty

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years, ever since the vampires came out to the general public—you just had to go in at least three times a week for it to be free. Bran was one of those people who couldn’t remember a time before vampires. He had been only a baby when the big revelation had happened, and when he started to understand, the biggest panic was over and humans were trying to adapt to their new worldview. Now society was different. There was even a vampire prime minister in England, and another one was running for president in Iceland. One positive thing had been that when people realized some of their neighbors had fangs, they forgot to check who said neighbors slept with. Being gay hadn’t been much of an issue for a long time now. That said, religious people were even worse these days, but the laws that stated they couldn’t spread their anti-vampire and anti-LGBT views anywhere near places like the shelter kept them at bay. Hell, there were even a few churches that welcomed both. Not everyone welcomed LGBT people to their social circle, though. Bran had firsthand experience of that. He had been the apple of his parents’ eye, homeschooled and loved and given everything he ever needed, within reason. He’d been taught about vampires when he was little, about how to stay safe and how everyone needed to be respected, fangs or no fangs. What his parents hadn’t told him was that being gay wasn’t allowed. He’d realized his persuasion when he was fourteen, after his best friend fell for a girl everyone else seemed to like too. Bran never saw anything interesting in her, other than the fact that she was really good at Trivial Pursuit and her much older brother was a vampire. Maybe it was the fact that the brother had come home from college that summer, and that he was tall and fit and gorgeous, that made Bran realize he didn’t want the sister at all. Or any other girl. The fangs didn’t really bother him; the brother was in control of them, and there was something sexy about the hint of danger surrounding the young vampire. Bran came out to his mother that fall. “Mom, I have to tell you something important,” he said one morning after breakfast, as he was organizing his books for schoolwork.

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“Oh?” she asked curiously, having the expression of an indulgent adult facing a child’s minor problems. “I…,” Bran started to say. Then he took a deep breath and blurted out the rest before he could chicken out. “I think I like boys more than I like girls.” It was like the air had been sucked out of the room. Everything stopped. The Oxford English Dictionary on the table moved more than Bran’s mother. He felt dizzy all of a sudden. “Brandon Mackenzie Roland, this is the last time you’ll ever speak of such things in my house,” she said in such a tone Bran knew not to ever bring it up again. And he didn’t. Not until a few years later, when his father caught him making out with another boy in their garage. It had been stupid, yes, and maybe Bran had wanted to get caught. The result was being kicked out of his childhood home into the chilly late autumn of Chicago, and being told that he didn’t have a home or a family anymore. Paradoxically, if he’d been turned, his parents would have done all they could to make sure he was fit to live in society as a functioning member of it. Maybe they’d even have been proud of him if he’d conquered the new “condition.” Being born gay—something Bran was absolutely sure he had been—was evil. Fangs were not. He never could understand the reasoning, not to the day he sat there in the office and tried to work a little. Gradually during the day, the youngest vampires woke up and went to get their breakfast from Marcie. They didn’t need much blood, only about a pint every day total, and the shelter tried to provide at least half of that for them. They couldn’t make sure that the kids didn’t take blood from unwilling humans, but then again most of these kids were good and would only turn violent if truly desperate. Once everyone was fed, the kids went their own way or stayed in and socialized. Bran had a steady stream of teenagers—or vampires who looked like teenagers—coming and going from his office. He was the male ear at the shelter, where Sheila was the mommy ear and Jenna was the vampire ear.

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Since the youngest vampires could still go out into the daylight, some of them had actual jobs. There were vampire-friendly businesses everywhere, and the shelter was a well-known place by now. “Their kids” were a good, hardworking lot, whether they had fangs or not. The older a vampire got, the more sensitive to sunlight they became. That was one of the reasons why there were very few really old vampires. It was estimated now, according to the recent talk show Bran had caught late one night, that about 70 percent of all vampires were under a hundred years old. The remaining 30 percent were older than that, and 5 percent or so were over six centuries old. To turn his thoughts away from one particular vampire, Bran asked a question of one of their regular vampire kids, Jason, who had come in to have Bran check something for him. “Hey, is it true that there’s a new duo trying to run the city?” he asked, and Jason went oddly quiet. Bran turned back to the paperwork in front of him, and eventually Jason began to talk, like he always did. “Yeah, they’re twins. Male and female. They have a building somewhere east of the university, I mean Emory. I don’t really go there….” “Ah… okay.” Bran shrugged like the subject wasn’t a big deal. “How old are they?” “Old. Old old.” “Okay. Well, this looks fine.” He handed the papers back to Jason and dismissed the teen—Jason had been only seventeen when he was turned two years ago—to think about it all. It was worrying, but of course a duo of older vampires could pretty much be after anything. Even making sure the city’s vampire population was getting proper care and education, which could still be an issue. But since they hadn’t come forward publicly, Bran doubted it. A hesitant knock on his door made him look up. The new girl was there, practically being pushed in by Carmen, who smiled briefly over her head and then pulled the door closed after the girl. “Amy, right?” Bran asked as if he didn’t remember. She nodded and shuffled to the old, beat-up armchair in front of Bran’s desk.

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Again he waited. This was something he was good at, after all. “So… Carmen told me you are… like… gay?” She looked up at him through her lashes, seeming so shy that Bran guessed if he made a sudden movement, she’d jump out of the chair. “Uh, yes, I am.” He nodded, wondering where this was going. It was no secret he was gay; everyone knew it around the shelter. “I was wondering…. Carmen said you’d know about the LGBTQ youth groups around here?” The petite girl blushed. “Oh, right. Well, yes, you know the community center three blocks from here? Where some of the vamps go to evening school?” he asked, and when she nodded hesitantly, he went on. “You could ask Jason to take you there. He goes to the group sometimes when he’s not working at the center.” “Jason is… the tall skinny one?” Amy asked, apparently trying to figure out which of the vampires he was talking about. “Yeah, the one who always wears the blue hoodie. He’s a really good guy, you can trust him, I promise.” He tried to look as calm and convincing as possible. “Okay…,” she sighed, relaxing a little, then looked at Bran again. “Have you always known?” “Since I was maybe eleven or twelve. I knew something was different.” Bran smiled gently. It was obvious she needed support, someone to talk to. “I’m fourteen.” The words came out in barely a whisper. She looked like she had been on the streets for a while, and it broke Bran’s heart. She looked older, but her small frame was a testament of her age. “You’re just figuring things out?” he encouraged her. “Y-yeah. I… I had a girlfriend… sort of. Or… like… a friend, and my dad saw us kiss. We were only experimenting!” The last bit came out in a scared rush, probably in a tone similar to what she had used when her father found out. “It’s okay, kids experiment at some point,” Bran said, remembering his own first kiss with a boy.

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“He told her to leave our house and never come back,” Amy sobbed, “and then he told me to get out. Just like that. It was like I wasn’t even his—” She sniffed. “—his daughter anymore.” “How long ago was this?” “It’s Friday, right?” Bran nodded. “A week and a half ago. I don’t have any family around here; my mom died of cervical cancer two years ago. We moved here in the spring, me and Dad, when he got a job in the city.” “What is it you’d like to do about the situation?” Bran asked, watching as the girl’s features lit with surprise. “W-what?” she stuttered. “Well, here at the shelter, you guys have choices. We won’t make them for you. See, you’ll have to learn to take responsibility of yourself, to make your own decisions. This is where you start,” he said seriously, not smiling this time. Amy went quiet and clearly thought her answer through. After a few minutes, she looked at Bran again. “I want to stay here for a while, then I’d like to… to try and call my aunt in Detroit. She’s nice, but I really… I really want to figure things out a bit first. If that’s okay?” she asked shyly. “That sounds like a plan. You can help us in the kitchen when needed, go to the LGBTQ youth group and figure things out.” Bran nodded, smiling again. “Do you have any skills?” “Skills?” she frowned. “Like… what?” “Anything you’re good at you could teach to the others?” “Oh…. Well, I can play the piano. And ride horses, but there aren’t any horses here.” She grinned, a tiny bit of playfulness peeking through. “No, but there’s an old piano in the dungeon. If you get some of the vamps to carry it up for you, I can call around for someone to tune it for you,” Bran promised. “The d-dungeon?” Amy looked hesitant. “Yes, that’s what we call the basement. It’s actually really nice. Not a dungeon at all. The vamps live there,” Bran said, getting up from

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his seat. “I need more caffeine,” he stated, and Amy came along with him to the kitchen to look around. After all, that was where she’d be working, at least for a while.

AT TWO thirty, right when Bran was sliding into his weekend mood— weekends off were a luxury he didn’t get that often—one of their resident nurses, Marcie, stormed into the common room, where Bran sat playing Mario Kart with some of the kids. “Bran, need you,” she gasped. Then she whirled around and left, and Bran was immediately on edge. “Kids, doors locked. Right now. Nobody out and especially in unless it’s our own.” Everyone scurried to do as they were told. The only one who looked completely lost was Amy, but Carmen was there to tell her what was happening. Bran made his way to the nurse’s room and out the back door of the building. Marcie stood there waiting for him, surrounded by three teenagers. They were the typical mix of dirty clothes, fearful body language, and defiance that made them dangerous as hell. Their twitchy movements told him they were freshly turned vampires. “What’s going on?” Bran asked. “I was letting Thomas out and… these guys….” Marcie gestured, her expression calmer now that Bran was there. Sometimes Bran thought the others put too much trust in his tainted blood. “Okay, get me three bags of blood while we talk.” Bran’s tone left no room for argument. Marcie vanished back through the door, and the vampires looked at Bran cautiously, sniffing the air, trying to figure him out. “Now, sit,” Bran said firmly, gesturing at the benches near the wall. “One thing you should know,” he said as the kids did as they were told. “If you fuck with our donors, you’ll never be welcome here again. If I catch you in the act, I’ll make sure there’s more trouble for you than you can handle.” The only girl in the group looked at Bran, challenge flashing in her eyes. She must be the leader.

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Bran met her gaze head-on. “You can smell it. I’m human but I know someone who is older than dirt, and if I’m hurt, or if anyone inside this building is hurt, it won’t be pretty. And you know how emotionless the Elders are….” He trailed off. It was a lie, of course; he had no contact with his ex and hadn’t for years, but the scent now coded into his body was an edge he needed, an edge he used when dealing with these kinds of situations. The girl swallowed audibly at the word “Elder,” clearly knowing what that meant. She finally nodded. “Okay.” That was when Marcie walked back with three bags of blood, probably heated in the microwave. She knew it would taste better for them, and it was about ten times better than the animal blood you could buy from any “Vamp-Mart” around town. Real human blood was hard to come by if you were dirt poor. “Eat, then we’ll talk. I’ll be in the office that’s first after the corridor,” Bran stated and gestured at Marcie to walk back inside with him. “Go tell the kids they can relax. These guys are new, not dangerous. At least not after they’ve fed.” The nurse nodded and went through the house to let everyone know what was going on. Bran looked at his watch, noticed he was about to get off work in ten minutes—in theory—and sighed. As soon as he was in his office, he called Tony’s house number. “Yello.” His friend answered the phone in his usual style. “Well, hello,” Bran said, rolling his eyes a bit. “I’m going to be late. Not much, but I’m needed until Jenna and/or Sheila come in.” “Baby vamps?” Tony made an educated guess. This wasn’t the first time something similar had happened. “Yep, three.” “Shit… I thought there were less coming in now,” Tony sighed. “Well, okay. I’m making a sauce now but holding on with the pasta until you’re here.” “Okay, thanks, Tony. I gotta go,” Bran said when he heard the back door of the building open slowly, as if someone was hesitant. “Okay, see you. Take a cab,” Tony added at the last second. “Will do.”

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The knock on the doorframe was loud, somehow contrasting the handling of the back door. “Come in.” Bran tried not to smile. The girl shuffled in, the two boys flanking her. “Sit down,” Bran said as he gestured at the chair and a ratty couch against the wall by the door. The boys took the couch, like Bran had known they would, and the girl sat down in the chair. “Feel better now?” They all nodded, and Bran could tell they really did feel better, just based on their less edgy movements and the color of their skin. “Okay, so. Here’s the deal: you’re here, so you know what kind of a place we run here, right? You’re newly turned, so I assume you’re either gang rejects or someone turned you because you’re friends.” The girl cleared her throat. “Relatives,” she said and turned to point at the boy on the left side of the couch. “That’s Simon, he’s my brother, and that’s Derek, he’s our cousin.” When she turned back, she looked at Bran. “I’m Lindy. I’m sixteen, the boys are both seventeen. We lived with Derek’s mom, and her new boyfriend is a vampire….” Her expression said the rest. It wasn’t an unusual story. There were stepparents who were vampires who had enough of the kids and turned them just so they had an excuse to toss them out. There were parents who were turned by their own kids out of spite. There were as many reasons to turn someone as there were vampires and humans. “You have nowhere to go?” Bran asked. “No. Our grandma lives near Savannah, but we can’t go to her… not like this.” Lindy gestured at herself, and Bran understood. “You need to get used to being a vampire first. Know you’re in control so that you won’t hurt her.” The boys nodded simultaneously. “Okay, well, there’s good news and there’s slightly less good news.” Bran smiled at them. “Good news is one of our social workers should be in at any minute. Her name is Jenna, and she’s been a vampire for a couple of years. So she can help you with stuff. The resident vampires we have will also help you out. The less good news

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is that you all stink. So once Jenna gets here, she’s going to show you the downstairs and find you clean clothes. You’ll get a room for just the three of you if you want. There’s space in the dungeon right now. Showers and such are in there. Jenna will fill you in on the rules. But the one you have no choice about is no violence. One of you snaps, you’re all tossed out and then some. Got that?” He made sure his tone was very firm, and all of them nodded. “Bran?” There was a knock on the door. “Marcie said… oh, yes. Hi, I’m Jenna.” The bubbly brunette standing in the doorway stepped in and held a hand out to Lindy first. “And I really need to run, Tony’s waiting. Fill Sheila in when she’s back from her meeting, and take care of these three. I’ll see you at six on Monday morning.” Bran got up and grabbed his jacket from the coatrack in the corner. By the time he was saying bye to everyone in the common room, Jenna had taken the three newest members of the shelter gang downstairs. She was already calling them LSD, short for Lindy, Simon, and Derek. Just… great.

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Chapter 4

LIKE the good boy he was, Bran took a cab to Tony’s. It was pretty much on the opposite side of Candler Park from his house. Tony’s place was nice—he’d bought it when the market had been good for risking something like that, and Bran could see why. The lot was huge, and the house was comfortably sized, with a wraparound porch and two stories of compact space. The best thing was that it felt like a much loved, lived-in home. Bran paid yet another cabbie and promised his conscience he’d make Tony pay for his drinks tonight. When he walked up to the porch and in the front door, he was greeted with “Finally!” from somewhere deeper in the house. By instinct, he headed toward the kitchen and tossed his jacket on the couch as he passed the living room. “How was your day, dear?” Tony asked from in front of the stove, where he was adding the freshly homemade pasta into a large pot. Bran walked closer, wrapped his arms around Tony, and sighed contentedly. “Not too bad, but I can use the weekend off.” Tony, all six foot two and gorgeous looks with laugh lines around his eyes, reached a hand back to muss Bran’s hair affectionately, then turned around and hugged him properly. “Let’s get some food and alcohol into you. Maybe that’ll make it all better.” Tony was the more obviously good-looking of the two of them. He was the kind of guy who laughed and made everyone turn to look at him. The looks were appreciative. Always. Bran, however, was not as tall or as muscular, but he had his high cheekbones and dark eyes. His features were sharp and his lips were a little bit too thick for his own liking. He was sometimes told he looked

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like a model, but he just couldn’t see it himself. He was… Bran. Just Bran. For a moment they just stood there like that, embracing and enjoying the fact that they had a whole night for “guy time.” “So, did you get rest?” Bran stepped away finally, going straight to Tony’s fridge for beer for them both. “Yeah, I got home just after four and I slept like the dead.” Tony nodded, accepting the bottle and then taking a deep gulp. “Good. If I can’t hook up at the club, I can count on you to entertain me later.” Bran hopped onto the counter and opened his bottle to take a sip. “Yes, unless I hook up at the club—” “As if. You never hook up at the club.” Bran rolled his eyes and took another pull of his beer. “Hey, just because you’re a manwhore doesn’t mean I have to be one!” Tony waved the spatula he had used to stir the pasta sauce. They had this conversation every time they went out together. Well, almost every time. But it was true that Tony rarely hooked up at the club, and Bran… did. Not that he fucked anyone in there. Or, well, he did, but so rarely it wasn’t something worth mentioning. Having dinner at Tony’s was in some ways better than having dinner at Sheila’s—he was invited once a month to her house, and it was an invite you didn’t ignore if you wanted to keep your balls—and even better than having dinner at Ric and Kris’s. Here there were no expectations whatsoever. He did clean up after them and discuss the latest happenings at Tony’s work and his own, but that was it. There was no pressure to make sure he didn’t offend anyone or make anyone jealous when there was no reason. Here he was just Bran, Tony’s best friend and occasional fuck buddy, and he could relax. As usual, they had a brief argument about where to go. Eventually they agreed to go to where they almost always went: Pierced. It was a rock club with a definite gay vibe. All kinds of people went there, from vampires to humans, gay and straight, men and women or anything in between, leather daddies with their boys, and the emo crowd with enough makeup for their pores to never see daylight again.

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It was a good scene, though. The music was great, only loud around the dance floor, and nobody looked at you funny. There were also the back rooms, where all kinds of sucking happened regularly, and blissed-out people came out while tense-looking ones went in. Nobody knew how Pierce, the guy who owned the place—and yes, the name of the place was so much of a pun it was ridiculous—kept it going, other than the fact that a lot of city officials and cops went there too. “I don’t know why you’re whining, anyway. You got laid yesterday, by two men. I haven’t had any this week!” Tony did the theatrical throwing his hands up thing when Bran tried to figure out what to wear. He had his party clothes at Tony’s because usually they ended up dining there before they went out, anyway, and he had another few possibilities at home in case they went that route. “Yeah, fine. I’ll shut up. But does this look good? Are you sure?” he asked, buttoning a dark-green silk shirt that made his brown eyes pop nicely. “Yes, you look lovely. I’ll fuck you myself if you’re really desperate. Now come on, the cab will be here any minute!” Tony tried to hurry him. The club was packed when they got there around ten. Apparently there had been some sort of a theme party earlier in the evening. The party had disbanded, but a lot of the people remained. Heading for the bar, Bran looked around and saw that the people who stuck out were obviously one of two things: a lesbian or a drag king. That solved the mystery of the party, then. Bran hopped on a bar stool, and the bartender, Pierce’s son, Rhys, came to take his order. “Two Laphroaigs,” he said, but Rhys was already reaching for the bottle. “Are we that predictable?” “Not at all, it’s just that you always get your quality drink down first, then move on to something disgusting and cheap. At least I’m not usually there to listen to you two complain about your hangovers….” Tony caught up with Bran and took a seat next to him. “What?” he asked when both Bran and Rhys grinned at him. Tony had hooked up with Rhys once or twice, brought him home, even.

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“Nothing. Drink up, we have the cheap and disgusting variety to look forward to.” Bran raised his drink and tossed it back, making the universal sound of “almost too much” right afterward. “So, is it going to be tequila or cheap scotch tonight?” Rhys asked, looking from Bran to Tony and back. “Scotch,” they said at the same time. Then Bran added, “But give us a couple of beers first.” An hour later, Bran was pleasantly buzzed, very turned on, and he had a twink rubbing his ass against Bran’s crotch on the dance floor. So maybe Bran was a bit older at thirty-two, but this guy didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, if there hadn’t been layers of leather and denim between them, Bran would have been inside the kid by now. “Shit,” he hissed, feeling the leisurely roll of the firm bubble butt against his cock. The kid tossed him a cheeky look over his shoulder, then stepped away and headed for the back rooms. Okay, then…. He didn’t bother adjusting himself—the leather was tight enough not to be comfortable before he actually got rid of the boner, and he had no intention of letting it wait for much longer. Bran followed the twink into the back room and saw him leaning on a wall near the back. It was a spot surrounded by mixed couples, vampires and humans. Well, if the twink got his rocks off by seeing some bloodsucking happen, who was Bran to deny him? In less than thirty seconds, he found his back pressed against the wall, his leather pants opened, and his cock being sucked very enthusiastically by the kid. A male vampire sucking a guy’s neck only an arm’s length away from Bran finished his feeding just as the human came almost violently all over the vampire’s fingers. Bran knew why the guy looked so dazed. He knew so well…. The rush you got from the bite was what led people into trouble. It had led Bran to trouble and heartache. The boy moaned around his cock and made Bran’s thoughts snap back to the action happening below his waist. The vampire and the human turned to look at them, smiling just a little. The human looked like he was having the time of his life, while the vampire licked his lips, the tips of his fangs still showing. There

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was a bulge in the vampire’s jeans, and for a moment Bran thought the vampire was going to approach him. Instead, he stepped closer and took a whiff of his scent, and the invisible barrier formed between them. Bran sighed, turned his gaze away, and tried to concentrate on the warm mouth instead of wishing that the cool fingers and cock were at his disposal. Fucking hell…. “I wish I could,” the vampire suddenly whispered into his ear, his cool breath, although warmed by the blood he had just been drinking, sending sudden chills through Bran’s system. Maybe he wasn’t that good at hiding his true emotions, like the fucking omnipresent pain he felt that he couldn’t have a vampire when he craved one’s touch more than air. Bran looked at the vampire, trying to keep the pleading from his gaze; he wasn’t going to beg. Not again. He’d never sink that low again…. With a pointed look, the vampire blew cool air against Bran’s neck, and suddenly Bran came so hard only the vampire’s cold palm pressing him to the wall held him upright. “Wow….” The man at Bran’s feet blinked up at him. “Damn, I’m good.” Bran opened his eyes, noticed that the vampire and his human were gone, and forced a smile at the twink. “Sure, thanks…. Eh, did you…?” He was a gentleman, after all. “Oh, yeah, man, you’re hot when you come.” The boy grinned, digging a tissue from his pocket and then wiping his hands clean. Bran thanked him again as he did his fly up, and then headed back to the club. He didn’t have heart to tell the boy that despite his skills in cocksucking, the best orgasm Bran had had in years wasn’t due to him but the vampire whose whisper reminded him of another cool breath on his neck. After looking around for a while, he found Tony in one of the corner booths, chatting with one of their mutual friends, Adam. “Someone just got excellent head,” Adam said appreciatively when Bran plopped down across the table from him. “The head was okay, there were other things….” Bran shrugged and then waved one of the waiters to the table for refills.

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“Wait, what happened?” Tony sobered up a little, clearly concentrating on Bran’s expression. “The twink liked the dead. A vamp nearby figured me out but didn’t exactly leave me be.” Bran shrugged and tried to appear nonchalant. “Okay, first of all, technically dead, not dead,” Adam started to say. “And what the hell? Explain. Being vague doesn’t work with me,” Tony added. Bran shifted in his seat, ran his fingers through his hair, and then huffed, “The twink was going down on me. The vampire and the human he was feeding from got done, but the vamp hadn’t come. So he came closer but took one whiff of me and….” Bran waved his hand a little. Both of his friends nodded. They had had this conversation before. He relayed the rest to the guys. “Wow….” Tony blinked. “That’s what the twink said.” Bran’s tone was dry as he grabbed Tony’s wallet from the table and paid the waitress for their drinks. “Well, I wish there was some way to fix this for you, but there isn’t, is there?” Adam asked, frowning. “Nope, there’s no way to get the bastard’s blood out of me. Besides, it comes in handy at work. It’s not all bad, it’s just… fucking up my sex life,” Bran said. Then he suddenly burst out laughing. “Jesus, did you just hear me?” he cackled. Adam looked at him and cracked up. Soon Tony caught on what Bran was laughing about, and they had a good laugh that relaxed the rest of the tension from Bran’s body. Once they’d calmed down a little, they moved the subject from Bran’s pathetic sex life—or the lack of cold cock, as Tony had once called it—to something else. They drank their beers, and then suddenly “Tony’s song” came on. “Fuck yes!” the man exclaimed, grabbed his wallet from the table, and was already halfway to the dance floor by the time the others caught on. “Shall we?” Adam asked, holding out a hand to Bran.

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“Why not?” Bran took the offered hand and let himself be led through the mass of people to where Tony was already lost in the music. For a “mostly straight” guy, Adam was a good dancer, one who didn’t mind being sandwiched between his gay and bisexual friends. They certainly had fun winding Adam up. Suddenly Bran noticed the change in Tony’s behavior. Maybe it was “his song” or something else, but he was turning more dominant. The way his hands reached around Adam’s bulkier form to pull Bran closer to Adam’s chest was the first sign. Then Bran felt the first roll of Tony’s hips echoing through the slightly confused man in the middle and sending a little spark through Bran. He liked Tony’s dominant side… but that didn’t mean Adam did. Bran looked up into Adam’s eyes, silently asking if he was okay. Adam’s throat moved as he swallowed; then he nodded once and the corner of his mouth turned up just a little. Bran smiled back at him but still reached around Adam and dug his fingers into the muscles of Tony’s back in a way that made his best friend snap out of it. They danced for two more songs before Tony went to get them beer. The rhythm of the next song was slow enough for Bran to justify wrapping himself around Adam snugly. “So?” he asked. “Would you go with him if he asked?” Adam looked wide-eyed for a moment, then smiled his nice allAmerican boy smile and nodded. “I can’t explain it, though. But I’ve wanted him for a while.” The sudden confession seemed to throw Adam a little—he obviously hadn’t been prepared to say the words out loud. “It can’t always be explained. Or it doesn’t need to be,” Bran said in his ear. “He’s excellent in bed, very thoughtful, and he reads his partner. He’s also pushy and dominant sometimes.” Adam nodded seriously, clearly trying to make up his mind. “It wouldn’t fuck up your friendship unless you have real feelings for him and he didn’t return them,” Bran continued, and the way Adam tensed for a moment told Bran everything he needed to know. “He won’t play with your feelings, Adam, I promise. He doesn’t see you as being more than a friend because he’s used to you being just that, and

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the fact that you’re self-proclaimed ‘mostly straight’ throws him off too.” Bran decided it was best to take Adam somewhere to sit down, so they headed back to the booth that was luckily still available. “This is how I see things,” Bran said seriously. “Either you do nothing, go and find a girl to hook up with, and that’s that for now. Or you can make a move on Tony, see what he thinks and does. I know you’re his type—” “Everyone’s his type. I mean… he doesn’t have a type,” Adam corrected. “True, but you’re handsome—cute, too—and you’re one of the greatest guys he knows. Besides, who wouldn’t want to fuck you? Look at yourself!” Bran smirked, making Adam laugh a little. “Are you sure? I mean, if this doesn’t work out, me and him… it won’t mess up our friendship?” Adam looked at his large hands on top of the polished table. “He wouldn’t let anything happen. Neither would I. There’s going to be some friendly ribbing no matter how it goes, but you have to make the move. He won’t realize you want to make one. He’s a bit thick like that.” “Okay… I’ll think about it,” Adam said, and then Tony was back with their beers. “Here you are!” “Oh, it was a bit too crowded there,” Bran said, accepting his beer. He wasn’t surprised that Adam didn’t make his move. In fact, knowing the guy, he wouldn’t for a while. But Bran was glad there was that spark. Now his job was to keep Tony away from long-term temptation. Sometime around two thirty, they poured themselves into one cab and made sure Adam got into another one. On the ride to Tony’s, Bran thought about how great a couple the guys would make. Adam was the all-American guy, a former football player and the hope for his hometown’s team, who got injured and had to change his goals before he ever made it. He was the type that would make a great dad and a supportive husband. The kind of guy you would love to take to your

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parents and who would man the grill in family events, happy to have something to do for everyone but feeling best being out of the action, observing the party instead of taking part. Tony, on the other hand, was more restless, very social, and sometimes Bran felt like he was on the go too much. Tony had a domestic side to him too, and someone like Adam would help him calm down. “What are you thinking about?” Tony asked suddenly. “Just what a great husband Adam will make, when he finds the right person.” He raised one shoulder a little and looked out the window again. “The right girl, you mean.” Tony’s tone was undecipherable. “No, he’s more bi than he knows. Just takes the right guy, I suppose, or a girl. Who knows.” Bran kept his tone neutral. Tony sighed a little but said nothing. Bran grinned inwardly. Maybe this would work after all.

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Chapter 5

BRAN crossed the street and walked toward the familiar tattoo studio. The inkblots on the window formed the word “Penny’s,” and Bran smiled. It was one of his preferred highs, getting new ink, and he hoped he could afford it more often. Penny’s had four artists. Two of them were regulars, two rotated, so all the leaves he had had tattooed in the past decade while he had lived in Atlanta had been done by different people. This one he was getting from the owner, Penny, herself. She was almost sixty and was genuinely one of the coolest people Bran knew. The bell jingled above the door when Bran stepped in. It was late, sure, but with vampires wanting tattoos too, the old business hours were history. In fact, Bran couldn’t remember a time when everything wasn’t open all night. “Hello, Bran. Penny’ll be a minute.” The other regular artist, Penny’s daughter, Rachel, grinned from where she was inking a girl Bran had seen before. “Sure, I’m in no rush.” He nodded, walking to the wall to look at some of the amazing jobs Penny had done over the years. Absently, he hung his leather jacket on the coatrack nearby and began to unbutton his shirt; after all, he’d be shirtless in no time, anyway. “That’s very nice work,” a middle-aged biker-looking guy said as he walked past Bran on his way out and got a peek at the vine crawling around his neck and shoulder. “Thanks.” Bran nodded, used to getting reactions to it.

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The guy seemed to realize Bran didn’t want to chat, or maybe he was just one of those sensible people who understood that sometimes ink was too personal to be discussed with strangers. “Bran, come on in.” Penny, a robust woman with faded old tattoos all around her body, gestured from the back, where her workspace was set up. He walked to sit in the chair and sighed contentedly. “That time of the year again, eh?” Penny smiled as she placed her basket of ink bottles on his lap. “Oh yes….” Bran began to look through the shades of green and picked a couple. “I trust you with this, just make it your style and…. The idea for this year is a silver lining.” Penny nodded thoughtfully, then began to squeeze blobs of ink into the small cups that always reminded Bran of the thimble his grandma used to have when he was a little boy, only miniature versions. “I think I can work with that idea…. Do want me to freehand it?” Penny asked, and Bran nodded. He’d seen her freehand work, and the leaf should form nicely like that and show Penny’s own style. “Where do you want it?” “Well… since there’s space and I think the theme fits…,” Bran murmured and pointed at his left pec. The silver lining should be on top of his heart, he reasoned. “Works for me. Is there a reason for the silver lining, or are you still waiting?” she asked as she picked up a marker and began to sketch. “Who knows? At least things look good, like about the same as last year this time. It’s a change, having a job and stuff….” Bran let himself sink into the seat. He had known Penny for a decade, and she was one of the people who knew what the ivy vine was about, and one of those who never judged. “Have you thought about maybe having some more of the vine done, not the leaves? At least not these big ones, but maybe tie them together a bit more? I could do that for you if you want,” she said, putting finishing touches on her sketch.

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“Yeah, I know it would look better like that… but I don’t know, I can’t really afford to have a lot of elaborate work like that done.” Bran frowned. “Oh, I’d be happy to do them at half price and maybe give you a year to pay for them.” She winked, knowing he’d come back about this time next year anyway. “I won’t say no to that.” Bran chuckled, and so she began to draw some more. The leaves, all eleven of them—today’s was the twelfth—were mostly on his shoulder, upper arm, and neck. One was on his right shoulder blade, and the vine crawled under the leaves, ending in beautiful green curls and spirals with tiny buds on them here and there. The great artists who had inked it all on him had also made it look very three-dimensional. The shadows were great, and in a certain light, it looked like the ivy really sprouted from Bran’s neck. An hour later, the new leaf had begun to form. It was such a great feeling, having the needle pierce his skin and the pain explode, just to have it turn steady, manageable, soon after. As long as he could remember, basically from his first fumbling experiences with a guy and later on his relationship with his ex, he had liked a bit of pain with his pleasure. It wasn’t sexual, getting tattooed, but it was the closest to the pain of a vampire’s bite he could get. Maybe it made him sad or weird, but for Bran, this was therapy. He closed his eyes and listened to the music that played quietly in the background, barely reaching him over the buzz of the tattoo machine. He knew better than to refer it as a “gun.” Penny had chewed him a new one the first time he’d called it that. Apparently it wasn’t a word any self-respecting tattoo artist would use. Rachel was about Bran’s age, in her early thirties, for sure, and she liked to pick the playlist for the studio. That meant that it was mostly the more or less emo music she preferred. Not that Bran minded; in fact, some of the bands he had time to hear during his threeand-a-half-hour sitting were pretty good. Penny didn’t talk much—another thing that was fine by Bran— other than asking how things were at work. She was pro-vampire and had a few vampire artists in the rotation, while some places still, after three decades, wouldn’t employ anyone with fangs.

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Much like once upon a time it had been about race or sexual orientation, it was now about fangs. The prejudice was there, and with fangs came danger, even though your average vampire was about as dangerous as your average human. Not all people trusted that, though. Sometimes it was hatred, other times something else, but it was tricky for vampires to get jobs in human-owned businesses, so people like Penny were definitely appreciated. When she was done, she made sure to apply some gel on the ink and then covered every new bit with an adhesive plastic that would keep the ink covered but that also breathed a little. She didn’t give him the speech, trusting by now that he knew how to treat tattoos that, in reality, were more or less open wounds until they’d scabbed over and then healed completely. Bran paid her for the leaf and a little extra—less than he should have, given the work she had done, even at half price—and pulled his jacket on again. It pressed against the sore skin, but he barely noticed it. “Thanks again.” He smiled at Penny and waved at Rachel, who was cleaning her station, before walking out into the late evening. His stomach rumbled, and for a moment he considered calling Adam to see if he was off work and could come and have dinner with Bran somewhere, but then he remembered Adam saying something about going to a family dinner in Marietta, where most of his extended family lived. Thinking about his options, Bran decided to grab some dinner alone for once, and since he was in the neighborhood, he would go to his favorite Italian place for some of their exceptional risotto. Saturday evenings were always busy times at Gianna’s, but there would probably be a corner somewhere for him to have his treat. Smiling, Bran began to make his way toward the restaurant. As he walked, he wondered how long the adhesive wrapping would keep the disgusting mess of blood and gel from messing up his shirt. He hoped that the mess wouldn’t seep through his shirt and ruin his jacket. Bran rounded a corner just to collide face-first with a wall. “Holy fucking shit!” he exclaimed, holding a hand to his nose, which had bumped against the person he walked into. The pain wasn’t

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as bad as it had been after the bar fight, when his nose had been broken. He had just hit it on someone—and then he raised his eyes to look at the person. They both froze, Bran still holding his nose, the vampire staring at him in shock. “Heath?” Bran managed. “Mace…,” the man—the vampire—who had broken his heart twelve years ago said quietly. “No, no. Mace doesn’t exist anymore. My name is Bran.” Bran wasn’t surprised at the tightness of his voice. Then his brain caught up with what was happening, who he was facing. He quickly stepped around the vampire and began to walk toward the restaurant again. “Ma—Bran, wait!” Bran didn’t slow down, let alone stop. He needed to get away. Get away from the person who had once turned his name—Mac to his friends growing up—into Mace because it “suited him better.” Frankly, at that point Bran had wanted nothing to do with his old life anyway. Suddenly the wall was back in front of Bran. This time he didn’t hit it but skidded into a stop just before. Damn old vampires and their abilities…. Moving faster than the human eye could see wasn’t normal, but somehow Heath could do it, being as old as he was. “Wait, please.” The handsome—still so fucking handsome— vampire held his hands up, his palms toward Bran. Then he inhaled. Bran knew he was using his superhuman sense of smell to check him. “You’re bleeding?” The worry in Heath’s tone was such a blast from the past, it made Bran reel from the sudden barrage of emotions. “N-no, tattoos, just came from the studio,” he stammered. Heath curled his lip in distaste, but he said nothing about the ink. “Okay, can we…. M-Bran, could we go somewhere and talk? Please?” The vampire looked at Bran with such pleading in his blue eyes that even when Bran’s stomach growled loud enough for the vampire to hear it, he nodded. “Fine, then. I was going to Gianna’s. It’s a few blocks from here.” He started to walk, not waiting for the vampire.

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They walked in silence, Heath clearly remembering that it was easiest to get along with a well-fed Bran instead of a hungry, already pissed off one. While they walked, Bran’s thoughts went back thirteen years, to when he’d woken up after the second-worst night of his life…. He opened his eyes and groaned at the pain that instantly pierced his head. When he lifted his hand to cover his eyes, the hand ached too. Mac realized he was naked under a sheet, and a quick look proved that there was someone in the extremely comfortable bed with him. He groaned, trying to figure out what the hell had happened the night before. This guy wasn’t a trick, that was for sure. Mac had been in Streeterville, and someone had picked him up. The guy had been human, paid nicely for a hand job, then returned him near the Navy Pier. He had been walking down a street when… something had happened. Mac looked at the form with short dark hair lying next to him. The man was tall, strong-looking. He was also wearing a shirt and boxer shorts. So not a john, then. Mac sighed and sat up, pulling the sheet up to his chest. He felt queasy, wrong, somehow. Had this bastard drugged him? The man sighed suddenly, then inhaled the way people waking up sometimes do. He rolled carefully over and looked up at Mac. “Welcome to the world of the… well, mostly living,” a deep, masculine voice said. “Where am I?” Mac asked, ready to bolt out of the bed and toward the door he spied from the corner of his eye. “Boystown. I found you half-dead on the street two nights ago. Some punks beat you up and left you to die in an alley in Streeterville.” Mac took a moment to digest this news. At least he was still in Chicago, then. “Why am I here?” “Because if I’d taken you to a hospital, they’d have thought I did this to you. It was easier to bring you here and take care of you myself,” the man said, and he slowly moved to sit on the bed too. It took a moment for Mac to understand what the guy was saying. “You’re a vampire.” It wasn’t a question, just a statement.

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“I healed your cuts, made sure you got warm slowly because I bet you were close to hypothermia, and a friend of mine came in to keep you on an IV and a catheter for the first two nights. She assumed you’d wake up soon, so that’s why you’re not on it now.” “Okay….” Mac nodded. It made sense in some way. People were terribly prejudiced; vampires helping humans got blamed sometimes, and judging by the aches Mac felt, he had been quite a mess. “Thanks,” he said, forcing a little smile. “Now, let’s get you some food. I need to go feed too.” The vampire got up and went to a set of drawers on the other side of the bedroom. “I think my clothes will be big for you, but you need to have something on before we can get you something else. Can you walk to take a shower yourself, or do you need help?” Mac tried. His feet were wobbly, but he was able to walk until he almost tripped on the sheet that he was clutching to cover himself. “Drop the sheet before you fall down. I’ve already seen you naked, and you’re such a scrawny kid I wouldn’t touch you with a stick,” the vampire said matter-of-factly, and Mac dropped the sheet and then stumbled into the bathroom with tears in his eyes. The cold words had cut him like a knife. So there was apparently a limit to the vampire’s friendliness…. Bran pulled open the door to Gianna’s and felt Heath walk in after him. It was like his internal compass was suddenly pointing at the vampire once again, more than a decade later. “Table for two?” Bran asked hopefully, and they were shown to a corner table in the back. That was fine by Bran. He ordered his risotto and a glass of wine, needing some liquid courage, and then shook off his jacket. He cringed a little when the movement pulled on the sore spots, but managed to sit still. Luckily the new ink was on his chest and so high up on his back and neck that it didn’t cause pain when he leaned back in his seat. “So, why are you here?” Bran asked, looking at Heath closely, like whatever the vampire would say was a lie until proven otherwise, and he was just trying to read his cues.

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Gods, he had missed that face…. So much it hurt to have him so close suddenly…. “I’m here on business.” Bran shot Heath a look of disbelief. “I knew you lived here, of course. I wasn’t following you. I don’t even know where exactly you live or work, I swear.” Heath sighed. “Oh, so this all is just a series of unfortunate events?” Bran sneered. “Bran, please…,” Heath pleaded. Then he looked down and wrung his hands. “I’m sorry. I apologize. For… for what I did.” “Excuse me?” Bran snorted, almost sure he hadn’t heard right. “I’m sorry. I kicked you out like an unwanted pet.” The vampire’s familiar British accent made something inside Bran twist. Then Heath raised his gaze to meet Bran’s. “It was wrong. I was wrong.” Bran wasn’t sure if the expression—genuine sorrow—was what made him want to stab the bastard back. Whatever it was, he asked, “Isn’t that exactly what I was?”

Part Two

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Chapter 6

HEATH CROMWELL walked along the Atlanta street. He was coming from a business meeting. While he didn’t do a lot of work in general— having more than nine hundred years behind him gave him enough wealth to work only if he felt like it—he had taken on a little project six months ago. Heath had avoided Atlanta until now because he knew it was where Mace lived these days. He just hadn’t had a choice. Usually this would be something Celeste, his friend of over two centuries, would handle. She knew better than anyone why Heath couldn’t go to Atlanta; after all, she’d been the first one there to take care of Mace when Heath had found the boy. Of course Heath couldn’t help it if a school bus and a tourist bus collided on the freeway and she was needed there, but…. He sighed as he walked. It felt like something was crawling inside his skin, making him on edge and fidgety. It was all about the guilt he felt, he knew that. Despite knowing that Mace was okay now, that he had a job and friends and a proper education, Heath knew it hadn’t always been so. He had been so cruel and cowardly. Heath had thought that it was self-preservation. Kicking the twenty-year-old from his house and his life was the best thing he could have done, right? Wrong. Instead of being free of what he thought was a burden, someone he had been tied to against his will just because he did one selfless thing one cold December night, he had broken the boy’s heart, and by doing so, he had broken his own.

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The realization had driven it home more than anything else could have: he had been in love with a twenty-year-old human. In just a year, a scrawny little hustler had wormed his way into Heath’s long-dead heart and changed him. If it hadn’t been for Mace, Heath would never have come up with an idea to do something for the street kids, especially those who were vampires. He wouldn’t have cared if some unknown young boys and girls had a roof over their heads when they needed rest or just a safe place to shower without being afraid of anyone. No, he wouldn’t have thought of those children twice. It was a result of being as old as he was. He had lost his humanity long before Mace came along. He lived his undead life, merely interested in how many more years he could exist before tiring completely. Celeste always told him he was a morbid old man, and in some ways, he was. He blamed himself for so many things, mainly his violent past. Some things he had forgotten, like what his parents had looked like, but the horrors he had seen and done while taking part in the First Crusade he just couldn’t shut out, even when he tried to—and that guilt was eating at him. Had for better part of nine hundred years. And then along came one young human. Something about the dying boy with high cheekbones, full lips, and long, messy black hair had captured a part of Heath he hadn’t known was there. For a year his life had been different. Of course there had been lovers, plenty of them of both genders— Heath had never concentrated on the genitalia as much as he had the person’s character—but he knew for a fact he hadn’t been in love. Not once. He knew the emotion, had it directed toward him a few times, but he never felt it back. At first they hadn’t had any sexual contact. The boy had tried to initiate something a few times but had then given up. A few months after they had established the fact that Mace would live with Heath for awhile because he didn’t have anywhere to go, the boy had started to talk about giving his blood to Heath. “Call it rent,” the boy had said, boldly standing there before an older-than-dirt vampire, tilting his head fearlessly in offer. Even now Heath could feel his fangs descending a little at the memory. He hadn’t taken the offered blood then, but he certainly had

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two weeks later, after a long evening of waiting for his usual blood donor, who just hadn’t shown up. When there was blood, there was sex, eventually. So a week later, he made the decision to give the boy, and himself, what they both wanted. That had been the point of no return. Once he was inside the long and lean body that seemed to fit with him so perfectly, he was a lost cause. Not that he knew that at the time. So when he started to feel claustrophobic, around ten months after he stumbled upon the boy lying in the snow in an alley, it seemed odd. It started subtly, his chest constricting at a look or a smile directed at him like his heart was still beating. At first it was fine, just a bit weird. Then he began to feel restless, to look forward to the special moments when he felt like someone was there just for him. The adoration on Mace’s features was something Heath began to live for. That was when the panic took hold of him. One evening, after long hours spent in bed with the human who had suddenly become the center of Heath’s universe, he knew that the boy would be the death of him. It was tragic. When he finally felt alive again, he thought the only way to keep hold of it was to kick out the one person who had made it happen in the first place. Being in Atlanta wasn’t helping his case at all, it seemed. He didn’t think of Mace much—he tried to occupy his mind and waking hours by doing things—but being here, so close, yet as good as on the other side of the planet, made him unable to think of much else. In the meeting with the vampires—six of them to be exact, from everywhere around Atlanta and as far as Jacksonville, Savannah, and Charleston on the coast—Heath had been able to concentrate a little better. It had been pleasant, a meeting of minds, in a way. The oldest of the other vampires was a four-centuries-old female from Savannah who had been very interested in the idea of building a countrywide network of vampire shelters that were run by vampires. Of course this would take time, but if the older vampires donated their wealth and the younger vampires their time, they could certainly do it. After all, if they had anything, it was time.

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Heath had gone to feed right after the meeting. The club he had picked was referred to him by a male vampire who had stared at him with evident hunger in his eyes, so it had been a safe bet it would be a gay club. That hadn’t helped, really. But he had had the blood he was after, and the human had gotten his buzz out of the bite, and that was it. No sex involved. It would have felt weird to have sexual contact with someone in what in Heath’s mind was Mace’s city. He walked briskly around a corner without really paying attention, and then suddenly he stumbled back when someone warm walked right into him. The first breath he took made his knees weak. He stared at the human in awe. For a moment he was sure his heart was trying to beat after being still for so long. Then the disbelief, anger, and hatred in the human’s eyes reached Heath’s temporarily stuck brain, and his world crumbled around him yet again. A while later they sat in a very typical Italian restaurant, and Heath was struggling already. He wanted to hold the man who sat on the other side of the table. He wanted to hold this man his boy had become and never, ever let go. He did the only thing he could: he apologized for treating Bran like an unwanted pet. And the words were spat at him with venom. “Isn’t that exactly what I was?” During his lifetime he had been hit by an arrow, sliced with swords, stabbed with knives, punched, and kicked countless of times. None of it had hurt like this. He reeled back as much as one could while sitting in a chair and went quiet. He was close to tears, and he hadn’t cried in over a decade. “I… I’ll go,” he heard himself say, his body already moving as if to stand up and get away from the painful situation. “Heath, no, don’t.” The tone of Bran’s voice was almost like a pained whisper. When he kept moving, his body dragging him up from the chair, warm fingers suddenly wrapped around his wrist. “Hyatt, please?”

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The skin contact made his knees wobble in a very unvampirelike manner. But it was his birth name that made him stop. No one called him Hyatt anymore. Only a handful of people knew it was his name. Slowly he turned back, looked into Bran’s eyes, and saw the strange swirls of conflicting emotions he was feeling reflected back at him. He nodded and moved to take his seat, and only then did Bran let go of him. The echo of those long, strong fingers on his skin was like ghost pain. He wasn’t sure if he wanted it to stop or to make sure it never did. The waitress came back with Bran’s drink, and for a moment they just breathed, both trying to calm down while the woman fussed with the wine and poured Bran a glass of water. She told them she’d be right back with the food, and Bran immediately reached for his wine. “You look different,” Heath observed out loud. “You look the same.” Bran shrugged a little, then winced. Heath guessed it was the new ink that made him hurt with sudden movements, but he decided, once again, not to comment. “Then again, growing up would do that to you.” Heath smiled weakly. “I like the hair,” he added, actually meaning that. The longer shoulder-length hair Bran had had when he was younger was now shorter, cut above his ears, and looked a little bit wild. Sexy. “It’s convenient,” Bran said casually, but Heath could tell he was pleased with the compliment. “So, business in Atlanta?” Heath nodded and leaned back when the waitress brought Bran his food. It was funny to see the woman flirt with Bran and try to ignore Heath. It seemed that she had realized he was a vampire and was now trying to act like he didn’t exist. Maybe she thought he’d ask her to open her vein over the extra glass on the table? “Yes, about a year ago Celeste and I began to talk about the homeless vampire situation we have. The number of teens turned seems to be on the rise in some cities at the moment and not all shelters take vampires,” Heath said, frowning a little. “We thought that since there are older vampires who care about the situation, why not rally some funds from them and try to have this sort of chain of shelters around the country.” Bran was staring at him.

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“What?” Heath asked, shifting in his seat. “Nothing… just… seems a bit unlikely, I guess.” The human gestured with the fork that had frozen with his motion when he’d listened to Heath talk. “Didn’t think you cared.” For once Heath decided that honesty was the key here. “I didn’t, once upon a time. Then something changed me.” He didn’t know what he wanted, but he didn’t want to blow the somewhat peaceful moment, especially one where he could drink in the sight of the only man he had ever loved. Another silence fell over the table, and Heath decided to give Bran some space. “Why did you pay my hospital bill? And other bills along the way, as well, I assume.” The question wasn’t surprising in the least, but Heath knew he had to choose his words carefully. “I knew you had hit the rock bottom and that it was my fault, at least partially.” He spoke slowly, carefully, picking his way through potential potholes in the conversation. “I didn’t want you to have to pay for the hospital bill, because it would have set you back a long way.” “Ric would have paid for it, and I would have paid him back eventually,” Bran said, looking up from his plate. There was something dangerous in his eyes. “Cedric Darrell, yes.” Heath nodded. “I heard about you meeting him. You were with him for a long time. After about a year, I asked the PI to stop reporting to me unless your relationship status changed or something happened to you.” It had taken a lot of money to have someone tail Mace at all times. Keeping an eye on him for the first three years had cost him a fortune; after all, the boy had first lived here and there in New York, then moved to Hawaii. It wasn’t easy to have a private investigator he trusted placed in Hawaii. He had needed to know the young man was fine. Or at least alive. And he had been mostly fine for the past twelve years. The PI had filled Heath in with details like the kind of places Mace lived in—when the heat was about to cut out because of unpaid bills that vanished before Mace could get to paying them, it was Heath who interfered from the

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proverbial shadows—or who he was hanging out with. The jobs he had and the way he got turned down by vampires left and right… those were things that ate at Heath the most. “Ahh… I wondered about that. Sometimes I knew someone was following me, keeping an eye on me, but I never saw anyone.” Bran nodded surprisingly calmly. “And I’m glad you let us be.” “Of course, I would never….” Heath lowered his voice. “I wouldn’t have interfered in a relationship that made you happy.” Bran’s sudden burst of bitter laughter took him by surprise. “Happy, yes. In love, sort of. Have you any idea what you did to me, Hyatt?” The tone Bran used was indescribable. It was full of contempt, hatred, even, but the underlying vulnerability and pain was what really took Heath’s breath away. “No. And yes.” Again Bran stared at him. “I did it to myself too, but I didn’t realize the full extent of what I’d done to either of us until it was far too late, Bran.” He rubbed his hands over his face and leaned back in his seat, looking everywhere but at Bran. “How late?” The question surprised Heath. “I knew I had fucked up about two months after you were gone. The PI that was tailing you told me… things. And I couldn’t sleep without you there. That was the least of it, really.” “I’m glad you suffered too.” To Heath’s surprise there was no vehemence in Bran’s words, just resignation. “Me too. For what I did to you….” He choked on the words and felt the urge to flee again. This time he managed to push it back. “I think I would have fought back, tried harder to make you let me stay, but I knew already that I couldn’t change your mind. That’s why I left so easily that morning.” Bran sipped his wine and then finished his risotto. It had been easy, too easy, actually. His apartment in Boystown was on the top floor of one of the fancier buildings. There was a doorman downstairs in the lobby, and Heath had told him not to let

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Bran in again once he left that morning. Later on, he had asked the man if the boy had tried to come in again and heard that he had only pleaded for a moment, then taken his things and walked away. “Why did you do it?” Bran asked over the rim of his glass. “I thought it was the right thing to do. Forcing you to fend for yourself. Forcing you to grow up.” It was half of the truth, but he couldn’t make himself say the real reason. He was vulnerable enough as it was, and he didn’t want to be more so unless it was safe. Bran nodded. It looked like he knew that Heath hadn’t told him the whole truth, but was willing to let it slide this time. Suddenly Bran’s expression turned into a funny one, and he grimaced right after. “I think it’s time for me to go. I think the ink needs tending to.” The panic that enveloped Heath was overwhelming. “No! I mean….” “How long are you in town for?” Bran asked as he waved the waitress over for the check. Originally Heath had thought he’d fly back home the following night, but he had nowhere to be, not really, so instead he answered, “Not sure yet. Might have to visit Savannah too, while I’m here in the South.” “Okay, so what about tomorrow, then? Can you give me your number and I’ll call you if I have a moment?” No promises, only an “if,” but that was something Heath could deal with. Because an “if” was not a “no.” “Sure,” he said and reached into his pocket for his wallet. He had a few business cards there for the vampire shelter idea. Handing one over, he didn’t ask for—and Bran didn’t volunteer—Bran’s own information. That was fine. He didn’t expect it, and frankly, if he was desperate, he could just ask his PI. Not that he would, not unless Bran was in danger. “Sorry, sir, but our Internet connection is down, so processing your payment might take a while.” The waitress was practically wringing her hands when she came back to the table. “Would you like a free dessert on the house while you wait, or would you like to pay with cash instead?”

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“I only have my card with me….” Bran frowned, and then suddenly his expression changed a little. Heath could smell the blood and some ointment. Whatever kind of dressings were on top of the new tattoo weren’t doing their job anymore. “How about you go and I’ll pay for this? You need to get the ink cleaned up. Call me tomorrow, okay?” Heath practically pushed him into his jacket and toward the door. Once Bran was out of the restaurant, Heath paid the waitress in cash, leaving her a tip as well. Then he made his way out to the street and heard Bran’s voice from around the building’s corner. “Can you come pick me up at Gianna’s? I really need you, Ric. I really, really need you right now….” He was obviously on the phone. “No, nothing’s wrong… not really. It’s just…. Yeah, okay. Thanks, honey.” Heath knew that Cedric Darrell had a live-in boyfriend, another younger man, like Bran had once been. He also knew that the three men were close. How close, he didn’t know, but it sounded like very close. Instead of doing what he wanted to, which was to go and grab Bran and take him to his hotel to be cared for, Heath began to walk away. Each step that took him further away from Bran was more painful, and he hoped he could wait until tomorrow. Hoped that he wouldn’t lose it and call the PI for Darrell’s address.

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MOST vampires didn’t dream much. Heath wasn’t one of those lucky ones. He stood there, staring at the huge funeral pyres outside the besieged Jerusalem. Something had to be done about the stink of corpses rotting under the sun, so tonight they were piled up like lumber back home, then set on fire. The stench was unbelievable. It wasn’t completely new; during the four years or so he had spent in what later generations would call the First Crusade, he’d seen it all. Diseases so horrifying he had retched and prayed to a God he didn’t think really existed. Injuries so severe that the infected limbs had to be cut off, and even then the injured didn’t have much hope of survival. Battlefields, villages destroyed, women raped, and children watching their parents die in horrible ways. Yet nothing had prepared Hyatt for Jerusalem. He couldn’t believe in the cause anymore, or maybe he never had. He’d been young in spirit when he left the Kingdom of France with the knights and the peasants, going toward their mission, wherever it would lead them. He had learned one thing: if there was a God, he would not condone all this killing. Sparks flew up to the pitch-black sky, and the stench of burning flesh felt suffocating. Hyatt turned away, readying himself to walk around the pyres to get back into the city. There was no hope here, no redemption for anyone.

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Suddenly someone jumped him. He fell down, hit his head, and barely registered he was being moved. No, not to the pyres, I’m not dead! The frantic thought bounced around inside his head. He soon noticed he was being half dragged, half carried away from the fires, but also away from the city walls. What was going on? Hyatt opened his eyes, groaning at the throbbing pain in his head. Someone was speaking… a language he didn’t know. It was alarming, but he tried to see in the dark, only to realize he couldn’t. Then the hushed words came closer, the voice a man’s deep tone of strange malice, and Hyatt felt himself being pulled up to a sitting position. He was too stunned to move, and by the time he realized he was being held against someone’s chest, there were arms around him, making moving impossible. The strength of the stranger holding him, cackling in his ear, was unreal. It just wasn’t possible! Hyatt was very tall and his body was healthy, reasonably well fed and muscular from fighting. Yet he couldn’t do a thing to help himself. The voice whispered something in his ear, then there was a blinding pain on his neck and…. After few moments, Hyatt knew there was a mouth against his skin, that something had pierced his neck and now his blood was flowing out of him. He’d lost a lot of blood before in battle, and he knew how it felt. With certainty, he also knew he was going to die. The man—creature—who was drinking his blood was going to kill him. A split second before he lost consciousness, he heard the creature murmur something and chuckle, and then he was bitten again. Heath woke up, jerking from the nightmare, the memory, like he had been electrocuted. He tried to breathe, knowing it would soothe his body even though he didn’t really need to breathe to stay alive— undead—anymore. Eventually his head stopped spinning and his breath came naturally again. He was in his hotel room in… Atlanta. Yes, Atlanta. He had met Mace, or Bran, as the human preferred to be called now, and if he was lucky, Bran would call him today. After taking a look at the clock on the table, Heath sighed with relief. Only about an hour until the sun would be low enough not to hurt him if he went outside.

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He rolled out of bed and went to take a long bath to wash away the remnants of the damned nightmare. It didn’t work so easily, though. He couldn’t shake the feeling of dread, of hunger and being out of control, that followed him from the memory. He had barely made it, only to wake up feeling strange, vulnerable and ravenous. The bastard—years later he had come to know that Heath was now called a vampire and the man who had done this to him was called his sire—had decided to drain him dry, feed him his blood, and then leave him in the barely there cave. What had saved Hyatt in the end was a drunken duo of crusaders. He hadn’t known them, but he doubted knowing the men would have made any difference. He had just woken up, his instincts wild and primal, and suddenly two steadily beating hearts were right there. Hyatt moved before he had time to register what he was doing. Taking down the first man took three seconds; ripping his throat open with the strange new teeth that seemed to have appeared out of thin air took another second. He drank until the heartbeat stopped, then turned to the man’s companion, who had blessedly fallen into a drunken stupor. After he’d drained the other man dry as well, Hyatt’s world had returned to its axis. The hunger was still there, but it was ebbing. The sound of his cell phone saved him from living through the first night of his second life again. He got up from the bathtub, not bothering with a towel. The number was unknown; he could only hope it was Bran. “Heath Cromwell speaking,” he said, then held his breath. “Heath, it’s Bran,” the familiar voice said evenly. “Oh, hello,” Heath said and immediately silently berated himself for his oh so intelligent choice of words. “So, I’m free in about an hour, but I’m still at Ric’s and I don’t have a car, so….” Bran trailed off. While Heath felt a flare of jealousy, he tried to be reasonable and kept his tone neutral. “I have a rental. I picked it up last night, just in case I have to drive to Savannah. I can pick you up?” “Okay, sure. In an hour, then?” Bran asked. Then he gave Heath directions to the building and told him to “just come up.”

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Great. Heath was about to be led into the lion’s den. The men in Bran’s life seemed to be interested in meeting him. His rental car was a practical something-or-other; he didn’t care much. He had lived for so long that it took more than a fancy machine to make him interested. Actually, he liked horses better than cars, always had. It had been in England, some three centuries ago, when he’d last had a stable full of horses. Horses were good judges of character, Heath had always thought. One of his horses, an old mare, made him realize he had changed for the worse. The horse had been with him since she was born, almost twenty-five years. It was a long time for a horse, and she was a regal being, very much a lady. In some ways it surprised Heath that the eventual changes happened so fast when they started for him. It was Lilac that made him see he had become an Elder in the most basic sense. Because the mare was like a mirror, growing from a sensible young horse into an adult horse who seemed to be able to read Heath’s mind, and then into an old mare who was always very correct, not cautious but certainly less keen to show emotion. All those changes happened to Heath, too, in the course of the mare’s twenty-five years. Some said he got lucky. He knew there were vampires who got into their cold, less human state even before they hit three centuries. For Heath it took six. He lost interest in things like socializing or throwing parties for fun instead of for profit. He started to care less about the human lives he saw taken in wars or by vampires who weren’t that discreet when it came to showing their evil deeds to their own kind. But the day Heath noticed Lilac giving the cold shoulder to everyone, he realized he was doing the same thing himself. It wasn’t long before the mare gave up and Heath found her dead in her favorite part of the pasture. He vowed he wouldn’t go like that, just because he lost the will to live. It took three more centuries for anything to change enough for him to actually believe in what he could do. Meeting Bran had made an impact. Losing Bran had made another. Now, after the years spent without the young human, he’d come to realize the changes again. He

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had been more “lively,” but he hadn’t been happy. It was time to change that, if he could. There was a parking space in front of the building Cedric lived in, so he didn’t have to leave the car that far away. Part of him was scared to death, which was certainly interesting, because he hadn’t been truly scared of anything in a very long time. The man sitting behind the desk in the lobby nodded him forward and pointed him to the right elevator when he told him he was expected at Cedric Darrell’s apartment. It took such a short time to get to the right floor that he was standing in front of the correct door before he had time to panic for real. Shit, he could do this! He was over nine bloody centuries old, and it wasn’t like he was a teenager going to meet his boyfriend’s parents for the first time! First of all, Bran was hardly a teenager; secondly, not a boyfriend; thirdly, no parents. Yet he still felt the queasy feeling he associated with such a situation. He pressed the buzzer and soon heard steps from the other side. A young man clearly in his early twenties opened the door, looked Heath over from head to toe, and cracked a little smirk. “Well, you certainly look handsome for an old guy. I’m Kris, come on in. Everyone else is in the living room.” The boy stepped back, closed the door after Heath stepped in, and gestured for him to follow. Everyone else? Who was “everyone else”? It sounded like more than just Bran and his ex. There was laughter from the back of the luxurious apartment— Heath guessed that if it were to be sold, it would be by Sotheby’s—and he counted in his head to three. As if on cue, the laughter stopped and silence fell as Kris walked in with him trailing behind. “Guys, this is Bran’s… friend, Heath Cromwell.” Kris waved a hand toward Heath and then toward the four men who sat around the cozy-looking couches in the light and airy living room. Heath took in the expressions and the way the men were sitting around the low coffee table. Bran looked at him, smiling a little bit, but there was a cautious quality about his expression. He sat on one end of the couch. On the

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other end sat an older man with grayish hair who Heath guessed was Darrell. The boy confirmed that when he sat promptly on the man’s lap and wrapped himself around him. The other couch held two men about Bran’s age. One was goodlooking, but in a serious way. His muscles were those of an athlete, or a former one at least, and his body language spoke of protectiveness toward Bran and the man sitting next to him—the man who looked at Heath with pure hatred in his eyes. Oh yes, this would be Bran’s closest friend, Tony something. The PI had been informative. “Heath, you already met Kris, and this is Ric.” Bran nodded toward the men next to him. “The others are my best friend, Tony Lucas, and our friend Adam Wolfe.” Heath murmured a greeting to everyone, taking in the waves of amusement—from Kris—protectiveness—from everyone else—and hatred—from Tony and, mildly, from Ric. “I’d—” Heath started, then took in a breath and tried again. “I’d like to apologize to all of you for what I did to Bran. I know I was a right bastard about it. I’m sorry to have caused so much misery….” He dropped his gaze and shook his head. “I want to apologize to all of you for treating someone you obviously love so poorly. And I want to thank you for being there for him when I wasn’t.” He managed to get through his little speech just to choke up a little after he closed his mouth. “He’s being honest,” Darrell said, surprising them all. “You’d expect him to be colder, but something has kept Heath, here, in touch with his emotions, it seems.” There was no mockery in his tone, and no malicious intent, either. “I think I know what that was.” Adam smiled a little, trying to dodge the look Tony shot him. “Yes, and then I threw him away,” Heath said seriously. “I’ve done some terrible things, and I’ve made many wrong choices over the years. I’ve had plenty of opportunity to fuck up, but it seems it took me more than nine centuries to do the worst damage….” Again he shook his head and looked away. “I can’t begin to apologize to Bran. I hope he’ll give me another chance to get to know him. If he tells me to leave, I’ll leave. I’m not here to hurt him.” He gathered his willpower, looked at each of the men that loved Bran so deeply in turn, and then finished by looking at Bran.

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He couldn’t read the human’s expression more than to get the idea he wasn’t being kicked out. “Okay, I think we need to go now,” Bran said neutrally. He got up from his chair and leaned in to kiss Darrell and his boy on the mouth. Then he walked around the table just to be engulfed in two tight hugs, and even Tony kissed him on the mouth. Jealousy roared through Heath, but he kept a lid on it. He knew Tony wouldn’t need much provocation to snap, and that was the last thing Heath wanted. They said good-bye, and both Darrell and Tony told Bran to call if he needed anything, “anything at all, whatever the time is.” When Heath finally stood in the elevator, leaning heavily against the wall, he sighed so deeply that it made Bran chuckle. “It wasn’t that bad….” “Bloody hell. It was worse than being in London during the plague…,” Heath breathed. That made Bran laugh out loud, and they managed to crack up so badly, they could hardly get out of the elevator when it dinged at the lobby.

LAUGHING together was therapeutic somehow. The tense energy between them dissolved, and they could walk out of the building like two friends who were just going to hang out. Being as old as he was, Heath knew that the feeling in his stomach was what romance novels called “butterflies.” He was attracted to Bran. What surprised him, as he looked at the man sitting next to him in the rental car, was that he was just as drawn to this version of the boy he had once known. There was a hint of Mace in Bran, but where the boy had been defiant and very immature in some ways, the man was determined, wiser, and certainly more attractive. The divide between the Elder vampire and the teenage human had been on the scale of the Grand Canyon. Heath felt that it was narrower now, getting more and more so every moment Heath observed the new, adult Bran.

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They chatted amiably, mostly about Atlanta and the differences between this city and Chicago, on their way to Heath’s hotel. They had agreed to leave the car at the hotel and walk around or grab a cab if they chose to go somewhere farther away. “You’ve not had dinner yet either, right?” Bran turned his head to look at Heath as they approached the Ritz-Carlton, where Heath was staying. “Eh… no. Didn’t have time,” Heath replied, slightly awed at the matter-of-fact tone Bran used. After all, Heath’s dinner would be someone’s blood. “Well, then, how about we figure out where I should dine and then we could go to a club or something. There’s always someone around who wants to donate.” Just as Heath was about to answer—trying not to hope that his drink for the night would come from Bran, because they weren’t there yet—Bran’s cell phone chirped urgently. “Sorry, I need to take this; it’s work.” Bran frowned and raised the modest phone to his ear. “What’s up?” he asked in a tone that told Heath they didn’t usually call like this unless there was a problem. “Shit… okay, I’ll swing by. I’m in town anyway. Try to calm them down, okay? I’ll be right there.” “Which way?” was all Heath asked, looking at Bran expectantly. “Okay, let’s… that way.” Bran pointed, and instead of stopping to park the car, Heath steered it back to traffic. “We have this new trio of baby vamps around, they’re siblings and their cousin, and… something’s happened. I don’t know what, but they are scared and the rest of the staff can’t seem to calm them down.” “It’s okay. Do you think me being there is good or not?” Heath asked, taking another turn before parking the car in front of the shelter building. “Just come in, if you don’t mind. Maybe your presence will snap them out of it, or at least make them talk….” Bran was all business. They walked to a door with a large sign stating “Trinity Shelter” above it.

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“Now, what’s so important that you dragged me here on my day off?” Bran asked loudly, and what seemed like a common room of sorts went quiet instantly. “Bran!” A woman who was obviously older than the residents, and a vampire to boot, sighed in relief and walked over to hug Bran quickly. “It’s just that LSD got into some troub—” She froze, getting a whiff of Heath’s scent as she turned away from the hug. “Holy shit.” Heath couldn’t help but grin. Now the kids around them were divided into two groups: The humans, who were puzzled and trying to take their cues from the vampires; and the vampires, who, in turn, were sniffing the air and staring at Heath wide-eyed. “Okay, settle down, everyone. Sit down. Now!” Bran snapped the last word in a tone that stirred something within Heath. The teens—four humans and seven vampires—did as they were told, and Heath could only admire the way Bran was handling them. “This is my friend Heath. The fanged ones know him as the scent that keeps me safe,” Bran said casually, making Heath feel a jab of cold shame for what he’d done. “So, what’s the problem?” Bran took a seat close to the doorway to a kitchen Heath could see beyond the open door. Heath looked around curiously, politely keeping to himself his thoughts about the ragged fabrics here and there and other details that suggested the shelter lacked funds. “We were at Druid Hills, just hanging out,” a girl said quietly. “Some older vampire came to try to recruit us…,” a boy, probably her brother, said. “And he… he said he knew where we were staying, and that we might want to reconsider if we wanted to keep this place safe,” a third kid, a boy, said. “Okay…,” Bran said slowly. Then: “Did you know who he was or if he was one of the smaller gangs or someone else?” “I think…,” the girl said hesitantly, flicking her eyes at Heath, “it was the twins’ guys.” Bran nodded and looked back at Heath. “Could you do us a huge favor? Maybe walk around the building with Jenna while I talk to the kids? I’ll explain later.”

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“Yeah, sure. Whatever you need,” Heath agreed, and the vampire social worker led him back to the street. “So you’re the infamous ex, then,” the female said without much respect for her elder. “That would be the case, yes.” Heath nodded stiffly. “What’s going on?” “There’s this new power couple in Atlanta, two much older vampires. They’ve not done anything, but there’s stirring in the underside, if you know what I mean?” Jenna said. They walked slowly, almost strolled, along the street and then to the alley between it and the next one. “Ahh… so my scent is being used for protection here….” Heath understood the deal. He began to run his palm against the wall as they walked, and got an approving look from Jenna. “Yeah, much like you once did with Bran,” she said pointedly. “Look, Jenna.” Heath stopped. “I’ve already gotten the lecture from a room full of men who would kill themselves trying to kick my ass if I hurt Bran again. Could you please just do me a favor and show me some respect?” The female had the sense to look sheepish. “Sorry, this is new to me, I didn’t… I know I should show respect to my elders and all that. I was never good with it as a human, either.” She shot him a quick smile. “But I’m kind of with Bran’s guys with this. Hurt him and I’ll hurt you. Or try to and die trying.” She smiled, showing just a hint of her fangs. Where Heath would usually have taken it as a challenge, he now chalked it up to her being new and not completely in control of herself yet. “You have a deal. Now show me the rest of this place,” he told her, and she relaxed again. She showed him the rest of the building, explaining where different functions took place, and once they had made sure his scent lingered around the building, she showed him around. “This is our blood room. Donors come here to give blood, and we offer one or two meals for each vampire kid every day. It’s a lot, but we have a steady stream of kind humans who come and donate, and a good backup system.” Jenna pointed at a large cabinet-like fridge in the corner.

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“Do your employees ever donate?” Heath asked before he knew what he was doing. “No, we made that a rule early on. They would know whose blood they just drank, and you know how that can be.” She looked at him with a serious expression. “Yeah, I understand.” Heath nodded. She had a point. A vampire drinking blood from a bag could identify a human whose blood he had drank before. Sometimes a vampire liked a certain human’s blood more than anything else, and that might lead to trouble, especially with young vampires who weren’t under control yet. He didn’t even want to think about a situation where one of the new vampires had been drinking Bran’s blood and got “addicted” to the taste. All it took was one lapse of judgment by the vampire and Bran could be injured or dead…. He shivered a little. “You want his blood, don’t you?” Jenna tilted her head, her expression compassionate. Heath said nothing, just looked around and then stepped out of the blood room. He wandered to the offices and could tell which was Bran’s by the scent lingering there. To his surprise, the office was nothing like he would have thought. Mace had been less than tidy, so very unorganized, and almost never picked up after himself until Heath had told him to do so repeatedly. Adult Mace—Bran—kept a tidy if a tiny bit shabby office. There was a poster of Hawaii on the wall, a bookcase filled with all kinds of books, and a desk surprisingly clear of knickknacks. There were obvious mementos and gifts from the kids on one corner of the scratched surface, but that was it. “You surprised?” a familiar voice asked from behind him. “Yes. This is… very adult of you.” Heath smiled over his shoulder. “I’m thirty-two, Heath. Not nineteen,” Bran said dryly from where he leaned against the doorframe. “I know that,” Heath said quietly, looking at the poster on the wall. “I wish I could still enjoy Hawaii during the daytime.” “I wish I had money to go there again. Seems unlikely, though. This job doesn’t exactly pay the bills.” Bran moved to stand next to

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Heath and looked at the vibrant colors of the sparkling ocean and the surfer riding a massive wave. “So, dinner?” Heath asked, biting his tongue so he wouldn’t say the words that struggled to get out. He wanted to offer to take Bran there. He would do anything to make the slightly subdued man turn back into the vibrant person he had been when he was younger. He could tell Bran was much stronger now, but there was something missing, and he wondered if even Bran’s friends knew that. “Oh, yes. I called a chef friend. He has a table for us reserved in half an hour. It’s a twenty-minute ride or so.” Bran’s tone was lighter— apparently food still did the trick to elevate his mood. Heath grinned inwardly. “Everything okay with the kids now?” Heath asked as they turned to walk out of the office, exiting the way they had come in. “Yeah, they calmed down. You were a big help, and the vamps are explaining to the others. I need to look into this ‘twin vampires’ thing, though. Sounds a bit odd somehow.” Bran sounded troubled again, and Heath wanted to shake that sort of mindset off him. Not tonight. “Whoever they are, they aren’t older than me, and frankly, they’d be extremely stupid to make a move of any kind. Their minions will know how old I am and that I’ve been here. I think the kids are safe for now,” Heath assured the human and smiled a fraction at the silence that swallowed the common room as soon as they stepped in. “Is everyone okay now?” Bran asked, looking at each kid in turn. He got nods, and a tall, skinny male vampire in a blue hoodie cleared his throat. “Yeah, we’ll be fine. You go have fun, Bran.” The look the kid shot at Heath was both slightly submissive and respectful in a way that made Heath think he was a good kid. A good vampire kid, that was. “Okay, well….” Bran looked at Jenna, who nodded. “Go on, we’ll call if things go weird, but I doubt it.” She smiled encouragingly. “Thanks, Heath,” Jenna added, and her expression was genuinely grateful. “No problem, glad I could help,” he said, and after quick goodbyes, they began the drive toward the restaurant.

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Bran looked tired and thoughtful, and Heath knew he probably needed coffee. At least that had been a good solution back in their old life. “You need dinner. With coffee and something good for dessert.” The statement was met with a slow smile and eyes that flicked away from him almost shyly. Bran kept giving him instructions when he needed to turn somewhere, but otherwise they just soaked in the silence. It was nice. Heath liked silence. The restaurant, Woodfire Grill, didn’t look like much on the outside, but damn if it wasn’t nice inside. It was actually a place where Heath could relax a little. The waitress, who seemed to know Bran, showed them to their table and then took their order. “You’re really a fan of risotto, aren’t you?” Heath teased, and Bran chuckled. “What can I say? Besides, they have a great risotto here.” “You could’ve started from first course and had it all. I’m paying, and I like sitting here with you,” Heath pointed out casually. “I don’t eat much, and I’m waiting for that dessert, anyway.” Bran’s smile was barely there, somewhat closed, and it was obvious he was trying to figure things out. Heath was too. He didn’t know what to say, what to do. Hell, he didn’t know what he wanted, other than to get back the one person he couldn’t seem to live—pun intended—without. “Bran, I…. There’s something I need to tell you,” he said hesitantly, deciding that the truth was a good place to start. “Okay….” Bran’s strong brows furrowed slightly. “About six months after I… after we….” “After you kicked me out. You can say it. I can’t say it doesn’t still hurt like a bitch, but you can say it. It’s the truth, after all.” Bran leaned back in his seat, his gaze pointed and slightly accusing. “Yes,” Heath said, nodding. “Six months or so after I kicked you out, I met a guy in a bar. I had gone in to feed, and the boy was there…. He looked like you, but I didn’t see it then. I took him home, I fed from him, slept with him, and I kept him.” Heath sighed the last bit with regret.

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“You… kept him?” Bran frowned, trying to understand what he was saying. “He stayed for the next evening, and I guess I needed… something. I… I turned him.” Heath let the words drop from his tongue and watched Bran turn into stone in front of his eyes. “Bran, you need to understand I…. There was something I didn’t realize, didn’t understand when I kicked you out. Or maybe I did, but I denied it then and for years to come too, in some ways….” He was trying to talk himself out of the hole he had dug years ago, and it wasn’t easy. “What?” Bran said, his posture stiff and his eyes cold like ice. “That… no amount of denial and self-betrayal could ever take away the truth: that I loved you already, and that I was making excuses so I wouldn’t have to face my feelings.” Heath looked at the empty glass the waitress had yet to take away and held his breath. For a long minute or two, Bran didn’t move a muscle. Heath could hear him breathing evenly, could hear his heartbeat pick up and then slow down again. Then Bran swallowed, cleared his throat, and spoke. “I didn’t understand it at first, why whenever I tried to find a vampire to hold me, to feed from me, to fuck me, they ran away from me. I didn’t know the rules your kind has. And I didn’t know what you’d done, not at first,” Bran said in an even tone. “Then someone told me and… and I was so furious.” Heath heard the barely contained echo of the old rage in Bran’s slightly shaky voice. “All I needed was someone like you to hold me, take me. Make me feel safe. Completely and utterly safe….” Bran reached for his glass and took a sip of water. “And I couldn’t have it, because in some perverse way, you had marked me yours while kicking me out. It took me years to understand that it was to keep me safe, because nothing would make me more safe in this world than your blood inside me.” Bran raised his gaze to meet Heath’s again. “I—” “Let me finish,” Bran whispered, knowing Heath could still hear him. “It took me until tonight to really know that you did it out of love,

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whether you understood it that way or not. It was twisted, it was wrong, and it made me more lonely than anything in my life. But I see it now.” Heath waited for the human to continue, but when he didn’t, he sighed a little. “There are no words that would take the hurt away, but I have to tell you that the boy I turned left me soon after. He didn’t want to be ‘second best to someone’s ghost’, as he put it. You brought me to life, Bran, and I kicked you out because I couldn’t deal with what I had become: a happier man.” Heath tried to convey his sincerity through his eyes and the tone of his words. “He left you? What was he, stupid?” Bran asked suddenly in mock outrage that made Heath relax. “Yeah, go figure. His name is Logan. He’s a good kid, a bit more than even I like to try to handle, but he’s okay. We meet about once a year now. He likes to travel, and I’ve given him the means to do it.” Heath shrugged. The waitress brought over Bran’s food and topped off his glass of water, and she took Heath’s empty glass with her when retreating from their table. Bran ate slowly, savoring every bite, it seemed. Heath watched him eat and felt happier than he had in a long time. “Stop eyeing my jugular. We’ll get you your dinner, but it won’t be me,” Bran said dryly, but Heath could tell he wasn’t annoyed. The fact that he suddenly felt like he would have blushed—had it been physically possible for him—told Heath more than he necessarily wanted to know. Hell, he wanted Bran in every possible way and…. He’d just have to wait and hope for the best. Bran had some cake with bright-red frosting with a double espresso for dessert. The noises he made while eating the cake were enough to drive a man crazy. When Bran licked his cake fork and then his full lips, Heath groaned and tilted his head back as if to look for a higher power to give him a fucking break already. “What?” Bran batted his long, dark lashes at him and smiled wickedly. “I’m about eight hundred and ninety years too old for this…,” Heath whined theatrically.

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“Seriously? You’re being boring,” Bran stated and waited for their waitress to make eye contact with him. “I’m being horny, hungry, and at the same table with—” Heath’s words were cut off by the waitress appearing with the check. Bran chatted with her while Heath paid, and then they made to leave. There were people waiting to be seated and more coming in the doors when they exited the place, and suddenly Heath’s senses kicked in. He became instantly alert, reached for Bran’s wrist without looking, and stepped aside when they got to the edge of the parking lot. Bran was about to ask him what was going on but, seeing his expression, kept quiet. Heath could tell they were being watched, but he didn’t know who it was or where they were. “Do you have any enemies I should know of?” he asked casually, still tense and alert. “Not that I know of. Someone is watching us?” Bran said, trying to look casual, which accomplished nothing when Heath was so clearly acting like something was wrong. “Oh yes… I wasn’t sure before, I thought I was imagining it, but I know someone is there. No idea who and where. Not a threat, that much is certain, but it’s slightly alarming anyway.” Heath made himself relax and rolled his shoulders. “Let’s go to the club you spoke of. I need my instincts tonight.” He was hungry, and that always meant he wasn’t on his A game. When he got some blood, it was like everything turned sharper. His hearing, eyesight, strength and agility, and yes, if the person was right, his lust. This time it wasn’t about sex, as much as he liked that. This time it was finding an anonymous human whom he could drink from to both nourish himself and keep Bran safe.

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“COULD the twins have something against you?” Bran asked, fastening his seat belt. “To my knowledge, I don’t even know them… but who knows. There are plenty of power-hungry younger vampires who might think I’m a threat,” Heath said thoughtfully, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. They were on the way to the club Bran had suggested, and Heath was getting edgy. As soon as there was a proper reason to feed, his soldier’s instincts kicked into high gear, and he was thrumming with tension. “Jason called them ‘old old’, which means over three centuries, in baby-vamp speak.” Bran smiled a little, trying to make light of the situation. “What I don’t understand is, why are they threatening your kids and the shelter? If they’re after me, I mean.” Heath turned left, then right at the next intersection, as Bran instructed. “It’s not a secret I have an Elder’s scent on me. Maybe they thought it would summon you if they threatened us?” Bran said, but Heath could tell he still wasn’t sure about the reasoning. Neither was Heath. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough…,” Heath murmured as he parked the car a couple of blocks from the club. The walk there was quiet and thoughtful. They walked close to each other, not quite touching, but the obvious and most likely mutual threat had changed things.

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There was nothing special about the club; it was your average post-vampires-coming-out-friendly place. It seemed to have more of the things humans liked, for example, a TV for sports in one corner, not at the bar like usual, and a dance floor—not that Heath himself was opposed to either dancing or watching sports, he just didn’t prefer to do them in a club—and in deference to the vampire patrons, the music wasn’t too loud. That was a relief. “I need a drink, if you don’t mind?” Bran said, and for a first time since they’d stepped out of the restaurant, Heath could tell he was slightly nervous of this new threat. “Sure,” Heath told him and led him to the bar. The bartender, a wiry-looking brunet with tattoos, piercings, and a disarming smile, came straight to them. “Hi, Bran, the usual?” he asked, looking from Bran to Heath. “And you?” “Yeah, please, Rhys. And he’ll have one in the back room.” Bran sat on the bar stool and leaned his elbows on the counter. “Oh…,” the bartender said, raising his eyes and looking at Heath with a measured gaze. For a moment Heath thought the guy knew too. People in Bran’s life seemed to know that he had been fucked over by someone he had counted on and that the said someone had given his blood to Bran when the human wasn’t conscious enough to request or deny it. Then Rhys went to pour a drink, an excellent choice in scotch, if Heath remembered correctly, and put it in front of Bran. “Here you go.” “Thanks, man.” Bran took a small sip, barely a taste, at first. Then, with an agitated movement of his wrist, he tossed the drink back and made a face. The shudder going through the human’s warm body made Heath think of other ways he used to make Bran shudder. Heath waited to see if Bran wanted another drink, but he was already checking out the crowd. “Are you cruising for my dinner?” Heath asked, amused. “Might as well. I know a lot of the regulars and can steer you away from the greedy ones.” Bran shrugged casually, then signaled Rhys for something.

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In half a minute, there was a bottle of beer in front of him. Clearly Bran was a regular. For a moment Heath wondered about how often Bran came there, how much he was drinking, and it must have showed in his expression. “Hey, none of that. I work. I don’t have booze at home. Only wine for dinner sometimes. It’s under control now, Heath,” Bran said to Heath’s utter surprise. He would have thought the man would blow up at him for babying him. “Good….” Heath was pleased. He made eye contact with a human who was maybe a decade or so older than Bran. Bingo. “Dinnertime?” Bran’s tone was dry but not annoyed. “Looks like it. I’ll be right back.” Heath smirked at him briefly, his fangs descending at the promise of much-needed nutrition. He walked after the human to what he guessed was the entrance to the back room. The man waited for him behind the curtain that offered some privacy for the people inside. It wasn’t anything new to him. Hell, it was nice, in a way. People here knew what they were there for; either quick blow jobs or quick feeding, sometimes both. The man looked like he knew the deal; Heath was there for blood only. If the human found his pleasure in the bite, that was fine by him, but he wouldn’t be doing anything other than taking blood. After all, he had Bran to get back to, and somehow Heath knew Bran wouldn’t like him fooling around with someone else. At least he damn hoped he wouldn’t! They ended up near the back, walking past all sorts of combinations of humans and vampires doing a number of things everywhere. There were a couple of couches and armchairs, but most of the patrons were doing their thing against walls. It was very sexy in some ways, all the primal action and energy floating in the dimly lit room. The man, a few inches shorter than Heath, stopped to lean against a wall. He was good-looking, not in an obvious way, but almost like the movie stars of old Hollywood. Heath liked those movies.

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“I have someone waiting for me at the bar.” Heath smiled at the man politely. “And I’m fine with that. I haven’t been fed from in a week, so it’s safe to take what you need,” the man said and smiled back. Then his eyes fluttered closed and he exhaled to relax. “If you want to touch yourself, that’s fine by me,” Heath said as he invaded the man’s bubble. He got a small smile and a nod in response, but no actual words. Fine by him. Heath raised his hand and tilted the human’s head to the left to expose the pulse point on his neck. He leaned in and licked the spot he wanted to bite and heard the man exhale in anticipation. When he finally bit through, the human let out a small whimper of pain/pleasure—Heath had been right to make sure there was a small amount of pain involved for this one—and almost immediately the taste of the bliss the man was feeling flowed onto Heath’s tongue. He drank slowly, making it good for the human too. His blood tasted great, clean and healthy. He guessed the man was a bit of a health nut. Just as he was about to lose himself in the act—as much as he could, given the fact that he was to let the human go mostly unharmed—something startling happened. A warm, lean body pressed against his back. Heath’s eyes flew open, and the human in front of him let out a startled little sound but then hummed contentedly. Heath was going to pull away from the delicious blood when a breathy, familiar tone whispered to his ear, “Only me, Heath. Go on.” As shocked as he was, he was sure he’d never grown as hard as he did in that moment. The tasty blood flowing into his mouth and the heat from Bran against his back turned him on like a switch. He moaned against the human’s neck and took deeper pulls of his blood for a moment. He could tell both the man in front of him and the one at his back were aroused. The heat of Bran’s erection against his ass was enough to make his hips twitch a little. Then suddenly the warmth was gone, and he snapped out of it. After pulling his fangs from the human, he let his fang pierce his tongue and sealed the punctures on the delicate skin with his own

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blood. It wouldn’t let his scent linger after the human showered the next time. “Thank you,” Heath said, meaning it. “It’s okay. And I know that isn’t for me, and that’s okay too.” The man smiled lazily and nodded toward Heath’s erection, which was making a nice bulge in his dark jeans. “Sorry about that… he took me by surprise.” “As I said, no h—” The man chuckled. “—or should I say no bad feelings?” Heath smiled at him and left the backroom in search of Bran. His mind was buzzing a little, but not like it had when he’d been slightly drunk on ale as a human. No, this was a clear buzz, something that elated him and made him feel strong and sharp. Heath found Bran at the bar, nursing another shot of scotch. “Here you are…,” he murmured, not sure what else he could or should say. Bran made a noncommittal sound and sipped the amber liquid. Heath felt the presence of three vampires before he saw them or smelled them. They formed an arch of sorts, closing Heath and Bran inside against the bar. “We have company,” Heath said quietly. He turned around, leaned his elbows on the bar, and looked at each of the three younglings. They had been vampires for anywhere from five to ten years, by the scent of them. They had the lingering scent of an older vampire, maybe more than one. Those were in their hundreds, he could tell. He waited for the younglings to speak first. That was their responsibility, being younger and disrupting an Elder’s evening. Bran turned around on his stool and looked at the vampires lazily, swirling the whiskey in his glass as he leaned one forearm on the bar and held the glass in his other hand. “Good evening, sir,” the youngling in the middle said, nodding politely. He was male, as were the others, and his clothing was somewhere between gangbanger and your average twentysomething, and also between clean and new and slightly worn. Not bad. Not gang kids, then.

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“Evening.” Heath tilted his head, then waited and pointedly flicked his eyes at Bran until the young vampire greeted the human too. Bran raised the glass in greeting and took another swallow. “We have an invitation for you from our master and mistress. They would like you to come with us to their building,” the vampire said neutrally. Heath could tell they were prepared for anything. They thought he would say no or fight them. Heath wouldn’t do any such thing. He was too old to let his manners slide. Besides, if these kids’ “master and mistress” thought they were in charge of Atlanta, then it was common manners among vampires to go visit the ones in charge. “Certainly. Would it be acceptable if I followed you in my rental, if you’re here by car?” Heath asked. “Yes, that is fine,” the middle one said, getting a sharp look from the left one—which he ignored. The one on the right cleared his throat and said, “We were asked to bring your human too.” At that, Heath shot a look at Bran, hoping that he would be able to keep his temper in check. Bran wasn’t “his human,” but these guys, or their masters, didn’t know it. “Fine, whatever.” Bran shrugged, tossed back his drink, and slid down from his seat. “Show us the way, then.” Heath took a gentle hold of his sleeve and began to direct him out of the club. One vampire walked in front of them, two behind them. Nothing strange if you took a quick look, but they were certainly being herded. They all knew that if Heath wanted to kill them, the three young ones would be dead in an instant. That didn’t change the fact that his greatest weakness was walking next to him. Thank heavens Bran had had a proper dinner before his alcohol, or they would have been in trouble. Right now he could tell Bran was slightly tipsy, but not too bad. Good. Heath needed them both to have a clear head. “That is our car. Five will come with you just in case you lose us in the traffic,” the middle one said and then nodded at the right one. “Fine by me,” Heath said, and they settled into the cars. The vampires were driving a dark sedan. How very CSI of them.

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“You know, a few days ago I had Chinese and the fortune cookie stated that I should be careful who I follow. Does this count?” Bran asked in a sarcastic tone that made Heath chuckle. “Not sure yet….” The drive wasn’t that long, and when they parked behind the sedan and got out, Heath saw that they were at an old office building. It was one of those slightly older commercial buildings nobody would notice unless they worked there or visited it frequently. Completely nondescript. “This way,” the one called Five said and pointed them to the front doors. They were buzzed in. To Heath’s surprise, Bran entwined their fingers and held on. So he wasn’t quite as relaxed as he wanted to appear, then. Not that he had really fooled Heath, but he just might fool the young vampires. The elevator wasn’t in good condition—it shuddered and creaked—but they still made their way quickly enough to the top floor. The doors opened and they stepped out. At the end of the hallway stood a bodyguard. He wasn’t that old, Heath knew as soon as they got close enough, but he was armed with two handguns. If he was fast enough, he could take out even Heath. The door opened, and The Middle One encouraged them to step in. The vampires stayed outside. At first glance, the room reminded Heath of every fancy hotel room he’d ever stayed in, but then the small details began to filter in. The lightly frayed curtains that lined the windows and the furniture were secondhand but clean and neat. There were shades on the windows, which told Heath the vampires possibly lived here. When they stepped farther into the room, they were greeted by a surprisingly tall Asian vampire. The male was taller than Heath by at least two inches, and his hair was in a short ponytail. “They’re ready for you. Through here,” the vampire said in a very polite and respectful tone. He was old enough to know his manners. Heath guessed he was from the fourteenth century, yet he was still the muscle, not one of the “twins.”

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Heath squeezed Bran’s fingers a little, and they stepped through the doors into another room that was in slightly better condition. “Welcome, friends,” a male voice stated from a couch on the left side. The vampire didn’t bother getting up. Instead he gestured them closer. “Please, do take a seat.” Heath nodded and led Bran to the other couch. They sat down, for now, and the male spoke again. “I’m Franco, and this is my sister, Lilith.” He nodded at the shapely brunette vampiress who lounged on a wingback chair near his couch. First of all, they weren’t twins. Second, they weren’t even related. Heath could tell that Franco was maybe from the early seventeenth century, but Lilith… she was certainly older. Much older. As old as Heath. “I’m Heath Cromwell, and this is my friend Brandon Roland,” Heath said, nodding a little at the cautious human next to him. “Yes, we’ve heard of Mr. Roland and the work he does at the Trinity Shelter,” Franco said, smiling fleetingly. “I’m sorry I didn’t come straight to meet you, but I wasn’t informed there were vampires in Atlanta who would expect such a visit,” Heath said in a neutral tone, trying to get a whiff of the female. She was dangerous, he could tell. Her cold eyes fixed on Bran first, then on Heath himself. It wasn’t good, not at all. “Oh, it’s not as much that as it’s that we’re interested to meet anyone as old as you are. And of course your… relationship with Mr. Roland is an interesting thing, as well.” Franco smiled them. Heath couldn’t tell if the smile was genuine, but it didn’t reach the vampire’s eyes, that much was certain. “Yes…,” the female purred suddenly, making all the men in the room turn their gazes to her. “I hope our little ones haven’t caused trouble at the shelter, Mr. Roland?” Her eyes—Heath wondered how brown eyes could be so emotionless and cold—turned sharply from Heath to Bran. “Oh, no, nothing bad has happened. It’s been quiet there. I had some of our newest kids hassled a little, but that’s all. I’m sure you

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keep your—” Bran paused briefly. “—little ones in check.” His tone was almost conversational, and Heath had to commend him on it. “Would you gentlemen excuse me? I have a human to visit.” Lilith got up from the chair, the silk of her blood-red dress flowing around her as she went to the couch and kissed Franco on the lips. With tongue. A tiny shuffling noise distracted Heath, and when he looked toward the door, he had just enough time to see the Asian male turn his head away. Someone wasn’t happy about his bosses kissing? Interesting. “Have a good evening,” Lilith said finally, after she had had her fill of Franco. She never came close to Heath and Bran, and her perfume masked her scent so that Heath couldn’t tell much about her. He wondered if that was exactly what she was after with her behavior. The inane chatter from Franco continued for a good hour after Lilith left the room. Bran was relaxing and commenting on some things, and once again Heath felt awed by the adult Bran. There was something serious about him, something that called to Heath. When Bran dug his cell phone from his pocket to look at the time, he frowned. “Shit, I need to be at work tomorrow afternoon, and I need some sleep. Would you be terribly offended if we called it a night? Heath is my ride, so I’d have to tear him away too.” “Oh, by all means. It was nice to meet you two.” Franco finally straightened his lean body and got up. To Heath’s surprise, he was short: only five foot seven or eight to Heath’s own six feet, which was very tall for his own time. Somehow Franco had seemed taller, but maybe he just had a large personality. “It was nice meeting you and your sister,” Heath said and shook Franco’s hand. “Likewise, and if there’s anything I can help you with while you’re in Atlanta, just let me know.” Franco looked sincere, but there was an undertone Heath couldn’t place. At least not until the younger vampire turned to Bran and his eyes turned slightly predatory.

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“And you, Bran, please feel free to drop by and give me a call if our little ones bother yours, would you? I’ll make sure they fall back in line.” The card he slipped to Bran and the way he held onto the human’s hand made Heath want to growl. His human. Where had Franco’s manners gone? “Uh… sure. I’ll give you a call,” Bran said, pulling his hand away from Franco’s, and soon they were escorted back into the elevator. Just before the doors closed, Five stepped in to see them down and out of the building. None of them said anything until they were safely in the rental and Five was back inside the nondescript building. “Holy shit. They’re not siblings, are they?” Bran asked, eyes slightly wide. “Nope,” Heath agreed, “and she’s as old as I am. He’s only four hundred or so.” Bran went quiet as Heath turned the car into the light evening traffic. He seemed hesitant, and Heath could sense he was trying to make up his mind about something. Then suddenly Bran said, “Heath? Can I… would it be okay if I came to your hotel for the night? Or would you like to come to my house? I don’t like the idea of sleeping alone after all that….” He waved his hand toward the building they had left behind, trying to appear as comfortable as possible about asking. “Sure, fine by me. Whichever you want,” Heath said while doing a very immature happy dance somewhere deep inside. “Okay, my house, then.” Bran pointed at the next intersection. “Take a right there.”

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BRAN’S house was small, but it had a lot of character. When they got out of the car in front of the garage doors, Heath grinned. “This is nice,” he commented, turning to look at Bran. The human gave him a smile and nodded. “Ric wanted to buy a few houses and let me help him pick one. This was the one I liked the most, so he rented it to me. I’ve been happy here. I really like Candler Park a lot.” Heath could understand the attraction of the quiet neighborhood. Inside the house, Bran gave him a short tour and then shrugged his leather jacket off. “I’m going to go take a shower, and I’ll probably need help with tending to the ink once I’m clean. Can’t properly reach the part of my back where some of it is,” Bran said, and they walked upstairs. Heath made himself comfortable while Bran went to the bathroom. It took a lot not to imagine the human getting undressed. Things only got… harder… after Bran turned the shower on. “Bloody awesome…,” Heath murmured under his breath and wondered how the evening would go. The closeness and the readiness for closeness Bran had demonstrated at the club had been surprising. And arousing. But the fact remained that they weren’t back together. The shower turned off, and Heath listened while Bran dried his hair and brushed his teeth. Then he went to the bedroom and pulled on some clothes. Heath, sitting with his back to the bedroom doorway, could almost see it with his mind’s eye. Every move the familiar yet so different body made. He fidgeted again. Damn, he almost wished that

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Bran would ask him to sleep on the couch if he wouldn’t let Heath close enough to do something about his hard-on. He could easily forget about it or at least block it if there wasn’t a warm body and the scent that drove him a little bit crazy right there…. “Heath? Come here where there’s better light,” Bran called out from the bathroom, where he’d gone again, probably to get whatever ointment he needed for the tattoos. Heath got up from the couch and walked to the bathroom via the bedroom. It was a nice, if an older, house, and the previous owners had kept it in great shape. Looking around, he stepped into the bathroom and turned his gaze on Bran. Heath gasped. The human stood there shirtless, facing Heath and looking at him with a serious expression. The elaborate vine, an ivy, that Heath had only seen the beginning of—what a waste of his favorite spot to feed from—was impressive in so many ways. Heath could feel Bran’s gaze on him and tried to school his emotions a little. He disliked tattoos, an irrational aversion he hadn’t had before he was turned but which had appeared afterward. And Bran knew it too. Heath examined every single leaf and line, the subtle or not-sosubtle change of colors. Then he realized there was a pattern. The larger leaves had clear meanings, and when he counted them, he froze. The new one over Bran’s heart was the twelfth. The rush of emotions that washed over Heath knocked the breath out of him. It was even clearer now how deeply he had hurt Bran. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. This time he couldn’t prevent the tears from falling, and he didn’t try to hide them, either. When he looked into Bran’s eyes again, he let the whole of his sorrow show. Silently Bran took a tube of lotion of some kind from near the sink and handed it to Heath. He took the tube and began to gently tend to the newest leaf, the silver lining—he hoped he could live up to that despite not having anything to do with why Bran had had it done like that—and then the other new parts of the tattoo. Bran turned around to show him his back, and Heath covered all the smaller spots on his back where the vine had been continued.

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He tried to control the emotional turmoil by looking at a bruise he could see on Bran’s hip. It hadn’t seemed sore, the human didn’t move awkwardly, so it probably looked worse than it was. He touched the edges of the bruise gently. Bran confirmed his thoughts. “A human at work. No big deal. It doesn’t even hurt anymore.” “I’m glad,” Heath said quietly and looked away from the bruising. He concentrated on making sure the tattoo was covered. “Does the ink disgust you?” Bran asked quietly. “What? No!” Heath said quickly, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, and he pressed his lips to Bran’s shoulder, on top of one of the rare leaves that was just plain shades of green. A shiver ran through Bran’s body, raising goose bumps on his skin. Heath smiled against the ink. He turned them so that Bran was facing the mirror. Then he opened his mouth and licked Bran’s skin once. The taste of his clean skin was intoxicating, almost as much as his blood would be. The green-brown eyes staring at him through the mirror were hesitant. Bran’s body was reacting, but his mind was trying to keep things more chaste. “I’m not asking you to forgive me right away, if ever. Not completely. I’m only asking you to give me another chance. To give us a chance and see if this leads somewhere. We’ve both changed. Maybe the core is the same, but… the love is still there, isn’t it?” He hated how his tone changed into pleading at the end of the sentence. He wasn’t good at this, not good at all. For a moment Bran was quiet, and Heath removed his hands from his warm skin and took a step back. “I’ll be in the bedroom,” he said and put the lotion on the table before walking out. Heath walked to the other side of the bedroom to look out of the window under which he had parked his rental. He found it funny, the structure of the house. Maybe this room had once been meant to be a child’s room and the bigger room the main bedroom. How it was set up now reflected the needs of modern families, or as it might be in Bran’s case, the needs of a single man.

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He heard Bran step into the bedroom, even though the carpet would have made him silent to human ears. “Yes.” The word was said with conviction, and Heath turned around to look at the smiling human. “I’m not saying I forgive you, or that I’m not scared as hell. For years, I hated you. But now…. Knowing you didn’t kick me out because you didn’t care helps. Now I’m adult enough to understand the reasons, as shitty as they were. The fact that you suffered too makes this possible,” Bran said as he closed the distance between them and wound his arms around Heath’s neck. The kiss was sweet for five seconds. Then their mutual hunger took over and everything changed. Heath’s shirt was practically ripped off him, as were Bran’s pajamas. After they fell into Bran’s comfortable bed, Bran rolled them so that Heath was on his back, looking up at the gorgeous being above him. Bran was smiling, and it made his eyes sparkle. Heath was sure the human had never looked lovelier. The man Heath’s Mace had become was someone so attractive it took Heath’s breath away. “I really liked your looks when you were a young man; now that you’re really an adult… you’re breathtaking, Bran,” Heath said, reaching out to run his palm along the warmth of Bran’s stomach. “I didn’t think it was possible to feel this whole again,” Bran whispered almost reverently as he began to tug Heath’s jeans open and then off. “Somehow I know exactly what you mean,” Heath said, the last two words almost undecipherable when they turned into a moan. The heat of Bran’s body slithering up his own cooler one made his fangs drop so fast he cut his own bottom lip and hissed at the sudden sting. “Patience….” Bran smirked and began to roll his hips, effectively rubbing their erections together. “Let go, we have time….” The heated words, whispered into Heath’s ear, made him growl and grab Bran. He kissed the human, letting the heat flare again, and heard a gasp when his fang pricked Bran’s lip. But if he thought Bran would pull away, he was wrong. Instead the human moaned into his mouth and let the taste of his own blood mix with Heath’s, clearly enjoying the very primal, almost vampiric action.

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They rubbed against each other, kissing ravenously, until the rhythm of Bran’s hips began to falter. Heath moved his hands to cup Bran’s firm buttocks and helped him keep the rhythm while pressing them together more tightly. When Bran came, he raised his head, moaned, and exposed the column of his throat. It took all the willpower Heath had not to bite him right then and there. Instead he let the scent of Bran’s release trigger his own orgasm and arched against the warmth above him, coming harder than he had in more than a decade. After they had calmed down a little, after Bran’s heartbeat was in control again, they relaxed and lay there, soaking in the feeling of the world finally being on its proper axis. “I’ve dreamed of this.” Bran’s tone was sated, happy. “Oh?” Heath asked, turning his head to look at the face of his beloved, finally where he wanted to see it—his head above Heath’s long-stilled heart. “Yes, this moment and waking next to you tomorrow.” Bran kissed his chest. Heath began to run his fingers through Bran’s hair, enjoying the feel of the thick strands against his skin. “If we work out, I think we could live in Atlanta,” he said, knowing it was too soon to talk about such things but also unable to help himself. “More nights spent together? I could deal with that….” Bran’s tone was lighter now, playful, even. “I don’t like the idea of you being alone as long as the twins reign here. Not that I’m interested in overthrowing their little thing, but they wouldn’t dare to do anything to you when I’m around.” Another set of words that escaped his lips without a warning. It was like his mental muffler wasn’t working at all. “We need to take things slow, but you’ll have to try and convince Tony that you’re a good guy,” Bran said, his tone taking on a more practical quality. To Bran’s amusement, Heath groaned a little. “He’s my best friend, Hyatt. If I wasn’t madly in love with you, I would pick him over you any day. He made sure I’m here now, he and Ric. You owe them.” The playfulness was gone, and the sharpness of Bran’s words cut Heath a little, just like using his birth name did.

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“Of course. I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “It’s okay, you can make it up to me by fucking me into oblivion. I might even let you taste my blood again…,” Bran said, planting his palm against the bed as he rose to look down at Heath. “You think you can do that?” Heath felt the rush from Bran’s words like a caress. A hot, sexy, lust-igniting caress. Before he could prevent himself, he had Bran sprawled on the bed, seemingly helpless under his heavier frame. “Are you absolutely sure about this?” he asked, reminding himself that he was a gentleman. “Are you?” Bran countered the question and looked back at him almost curiously. Heath thought about it for a moment. This was all he wanted, all he’d wanted since the moment he first took Bran’s blood. “You’re awfully quiet and far away.” Bran’s voice was quiet, hesitant. “Yes, I… I thought about it.” Heath nodded, again reminding himself that he needed to be completely honest. He rolled off Bran, sat up against the headboard, and looked down at the human. Bran was confused, scared that he was being rejected. Heath could tell because he knew that look. He had put it on the gorgeous, beautiful man’s face before. “You see… I want this, more than anything. But I think I never told you something important, and now I should. Before we….” “Make love.” Bran nodded, seeming to understand what Heath was trying to say. “Honesty, I appreciate that.” Heath was able to see that Bran had braced himself, even though he was clearly trying to appear nonchalant about it all. “You already know not all blood tastes the same,” he began. “Oh, yes. You talked about it back then, and now some of the kids mention it when they talk about the blood of homeless and junkies they have had before getting some healthy blood from us. They say it’s better at the shelter, even if it comes from a fridge.” Bran smiled a little, his expression fond when he spoke of the youth at the shelter. “Yes. But that’s not all. See, sometimes blood and love go together for vampires. It doesn’t mean someone whose blood tastes

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really good for us can make us fall in love just based on how tasty they are, nor does it mean that the person we love has the best flavor to us.” Heath looked at Bran, who was nodding and listening intently. “Usually we register the good taste like you would when you find something like a new flavor of ice cream you can’t get enough of. But you still grow tired of it eventually, right?” Bran nodded. “At my age, most blood is just blood. And then you came along.” Heath rubbed his face with his palms and looked toward the window. This was the difficult part. “I knew that your scent was wonderful; even when you were an unbathed street hustler, you had a scent that should have warned me off, but it didn’t. That’s why it took you time to get me to drink from you. You were injured already and….” He swallowed and forced himself to continue. “I wasn’t sure if I could stop once I began feeding from you.” “But you always stopped. You never put me in any danger,” Bran pointed out. “Yes, that’s true, but at first I couldn’t know. And I didn’t want to hurt you or kill you accidentally. It wasn’t until after… when you’d been gone for a while I realized that why you tasted so good and why I was having such a hard time letting you go was because you were my blood match.” Heath turned his head to look at Bran again. “Blood match?” Bran frowned slightly. “Yes. It means that I was in love with a person whose blood tastes the best to me. And that means I can only feel whole when I’m with you. There’s been a connection between us from the first moment I tasted your blood, because after that I realized another thing… that somehow you wormed your way into my heart and soul, if I have either.” Heath lowered his gaze to his hands. He had been fidgeting a little. “You have both, Hyatt. Maybe you don’t believe it, but I do.” Bran leaned over and kissed Heath on the lips gently. They were quiet for a while, both lost in their own thoughts. Then suddenly Bran said, “I know it’s too early to speak of love, I mean, love as in new love. We have the old love, that’s a good foundation. Right now I want you to show me, okay?”

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Heath looked into Bran’s eyes and saw the sincerity in their depths. There were no guarantees, but if they were to have a chance to do things right this time, they needed to start somewhere. Bran leaned over him and reached for a bottle of lubricant from the bedside table drawer. He was about to reach for a condom but then grinned a little. “You know, those are one thing I’ll be happy to be rid of.” Heath chuckled. Vampires couldn’t spread or contract any STDs, which meant that they didn’t need to use condoms unless they wanted to minimize the mess. It seemed like Bran hadn’t grown squeamish in the time spent apart, though. Good. The idea of burying his cock and spilling his seed inside Bran’s body made his erection return with a purpose. “How about you straddle me?” Bran thought about it for two seconds and then promptly swung one leg over Heath’s lap and leaned in to kiss him. Heath took the lube and spread some on his fingers. Then he reached around Bran and began to play with the tender skin and the tight opening he knew would feel like fire around his cock. As much as he assumed Bran had missed his cool skin and as much as he got off on the sensations now, Heath had missed Bran’s warmth. He disliked having human lovers; that was one of the reasons he had turned Logan. It was easier to pretend he wasn’t trying to replace Mace when the boy in his bed didn’t feel warm. Heath wanted to purr at the taste of Bran’s mouth, the hungry way he was kissed, and the way Bran’s long fingers tried to grasp his hair but didn’t quite manage because of the way it was cut short. It took no time at all to have Bran rocking on his lap, rubbing their cocks together and impaling himself on Heath’s fingers. The whining sound Bran let out when he was getting impatient was so achingly familiar, something Heath had thought he’d lost forever, that he almost choked up a little. “Now. Now, Heath,” Bran gasped and rose to his knees to give Heath space to lube himself up. When Heath lined up his cock with the ring of muscle he’d done his best to stretch, Bran lost his patience. The human grabbed Heath’s cock and impatiently lowered himself on it, sinking down and growling through the initial pain.

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Heath leaned his head back and closed his eyes, just enjoying the moment of pure bliss. Then he wrapped one arm around Bran’s waist and tugged at his hair with his other hand. “Come ’ere…,” he murmured before kissing his lover breathless. He wasn’t sure, much later, when he thought about it, which of them started to move. Was it Bran riding him? Or Heath lifting his hips while holding the human up with his considerable strength? Whatever the case was, a few minutes later they were both close to coming, faster than either of them should have or they had anticipated. There was a moment when it almost became too much, and Heath grabbed Bran to throw him on the bed. He pushed into Bran again, began a relentless rhythm, and watched the man he was connected to more than he ever thought he could be connected with come unraveled under him. When Bran opened his eyes to look at him, Heath kissed him but only had time for a quick kiss before Bran tilted his head and exposed his neck. Without hesitation, Heath sank his fangs into his lover’s pulse point, groaning at the taste and reveling in the sensations coursing through his body. The way Bran suddenly climaxed under him and the pure rush of emotions and endorphins that filled Heath’s whole being made him wonder if he’d ever be the same after tonight. He came violently, biting down harder for a moment without meaning to, just as the tremors of Bran’s body began to lessen. A soft yelp from Bran made him snap out of it, and he quickly pulled his fangs from his lover and sealed the wounds with his blood. They lay there, sticky and slightly nasty, for long minutes. Heath was halfway on top of Bran, but neither of them made an effort to move. The steady, slowing beat of Bran’s heart was the sweetest music Heath had ever heard. “As much as I love this, I think we need to shower and sunproof the windows here,” Bran said in a lazy tone that meant what it had always meant: Heath had to drag him to the shower and make sure he didn’t fall asleep. Some things never changed.

Part Three

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Chapter 10

TECHNICALLY Bran was supposed to be going to work, but he had extracted himself from Heath’s arms—the thought still made him grin—and called Sheila to tell her he’d be late. Apparently that was okay; she was happy for him and glad to fill in while he “finally got some.” It was a strange, strange weekend, and now, on Monday afternoon, he was walking to the closest Starbucks to get himself a treat. It wasn’t that he didn’t have caffeine at home. He tried to use the overpriced chains as little as possible and usually survived by the coffee he made himself either at home or at the shelter. Now there was a good excuse to go get something sinfully good, and damn if he wasn’t going to use the opportunity. Somehow it felt strange to admit that he’d missed having to wrestle himself out of the grip of someone who could have been dead if you didn’t know better. When he slept, Heath didn’t breathe, he was cold to the touch, and his muscles went rigid. It caused no strain to the vampire’s body, but Bran could remember waking up feeling like he had been sleeping on top of a boulder barely warmed by the sun. Still, he couldn’t remember when he last slept as well as he had last night. Possibly it had been the last time he’d spent the night in Ric and Kris’s bed. Or the time he fell asleep in Tony’s bed when his friend had caught a super flu, and Bran was the only person willing to look after him. It had felt good, sleeping next to those men, his best friends, but sleeping with Heath was like coming home. Like the feeling he remembered from his childhood, when his mother had taken his favorite blankie and put it in the laundry. None of the other blankets

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had felt the same. They were okay, but not good enough. Getting his blankie back had been so good he had cried—and then felt ashamed, because big boys didn’t cry. He had been four. The walk to the closest Starbucks didn’t take long. But since it was a sunny early autumn day, he knew Heath wouldn’t wake up anytime soon. He was sleeping where it was safe—they’d made sure the windows were covered before they fell asleep early that morning— and he was bound to be exhausted after all the emotional turmoil and the sex they’d had. Besides, he was sated, blood-wise, and that always guaranteed better sleep. Bran remembered how it had been difficult to get used to these things. Like waking up next to a dead guy, or knowing how Heath’s body basically shut down every morning when the sun rose and woke up either when he had rested enough or after sunset. After stepping into the coffee shop, he walked to the counter and ordered his boring espresso macchiato and a panini before deciding to go and sit at a table to enjoy his breakfast. His stomach was making funny sounds, so he was sure it would be more pleased with him eating now instead of after a walk home. There were people around. Most were just grabbing something to go, and Bran smiled in a lazy, sated way while he did some peoplewatching and fed himself. When he was done, he went to the counter and got an espresso Frappuccino to go. The weather was really warm; at least that was how he justified it to himself. He’d be buzzing with the caffeine in no time. He wondered if Heath had plans for the day or if they could just go with the flow until Bran was supposed to be at work again. He had promised to go in at nine in the evening and stick around until six in the morning. It was a good shift, easy, but he would rather have hung out with Heath. Bran still couldn’t believe what was happening. Of course the old resentment and sense of betrayal was still there. Hell, it might always linger, but he wasn’t a naïve kid anymore, and Heath had obviously changed a lot. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the boy Heath had turned, even though the substitute hadn’t been a good match for Heath after all. He

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was sad in part that the plan had been ruined by incompatibility, but at the same time he was happy that he hadn’t been replaced in any way. His silver lining was finally presenting itself, and he couldn’t wait to start living again. Since he was almost home, he dug out his cell to call Tony. He had a feeling Tony and Adam had gone home together from Ric’s, and Bran wanted to know how it had gone. The day before…. Well, first of all, Bran had gone to Ric’s after having the newest ink done. He’d ended up thoroughly fucked and comforted, and then he had had a good conversation with Ric after Kris had fallen asleep. Ric had told him to go for it, to see if it would still work after all this time. Bran had seen the hint of pain in the older man’s eyes and known that Ric still loved him, but much like Heath and his childe—as turned vampires were called—Bran and Ric hadn’t been a true match. Not for all eternity, at least. Not even for a human lifetime. “Afternoon.” Tony answered his phone in a tone that was way too chipper to be normal. “Uh-oh… someone’s happy for some reason.” Bran grinned, knowing his own voice betrayed similar emotions. “Oh yes…. Something happened and… well, it’s been a good day and a half.” Tony dodged the obvious unsaid questions. “Hmm…. Be smart about him, Tony. Please. He’s a good guy,” Bran said as he turned the last corner toward his house. “What? You know about this? What the—” “Oh my God…,” Bran gasped, staring at his house. The door was wide open and the bedroom window above the garage doors had been broken, light flooding into the room. “Bran? Bran? What’s wrong?” Tony’s voice turned from stunned to worried in a flash. “Just come to my house, right now.” Bran disconnected the call and ran inside. He tried to be sensible and assess the situation, but his panic took over. Furniture was toppled, things were broken—blood splattered the walls. Dreading what he would find, Bran forced himself up the stairs.

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The bedroom was bathed in light, and all the coverings from the windows were gone. The room was empty. Only the broken furniture was left. There was no trace of Heath. His car was still in the driveway under the broken window. Most of the glass had sprayed on the car, so Bran knew the window had been broken from the inside instead of something having been thrown in from the yard. The sound of Tony’s car startled him a little. Bran went downstairs to meet Tony, who looked a bit wide-eyed at the carnage inside. “What happened here?” he asked, looking a little bit green around the gills at the blood. Not Tony’s favorite thing in the world. “Someone came in while I was getting coffee. I think they took Heath.” Bran blinked, his mind racing and stopping altogether in turn. “Okay, let’s sit you down in the back,” Tony said, taking over because he could obviously tell Bran wasn’t all there at the moment. He escorted Bran to the back of the house, to the stairs leading down from the small porch. “We can’t call the cops!” Bran blurted out immediately. “Uh….” There were all kinds of vampires out there, just like there were all kinds of humans. Most of them liked to blend in. Then there were the ones who wanted to use their fangs to their advantage and get rid of as many humans as possible. Normally those kinds of vampires were taken down and tossed into maximum-security jails by the special FBI task force nobody really talked about. It wasn’t “humane” to “capture people” like the FBI did in those cases. However, had a human done the same things, killed a bunch of people just for the sake of it, they’d have been convicted for a few lifetimes. “No matter who’s behind this, it’s obviously a vampire. You know what happens to vampires like that,” Bran explained. “Besides, it would take time, and that’s something we don’t have.” Laws hadn’t been changed for humans much; instead, there had been new laws made for vampires. Bran didn’t want to think what happened in those institutions, “vampire jails,” to those who ended up there. There weren’t many things you could do to punish a vampire,

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and there was no cure for their mental problems or their predatory nature. Locking them up was one thing, but Bran suspected there was more happening behind closed doors. “Start from the beginning. He spent the night and then what?” Tony sat next to him, wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and listened. Bran told him everything, then filled him in about what had happened with the twin vampires the previous night. “I think the bitch has something to do with this.” Tony’s tone was thoughtful. “It’s almost impossible to get a jump on someone as old as Heath, right?” “Yeah, they must have broken in quietly and gotten to the bedroom before his senses woke him to the danger. If they managed to hit him on the head, they might have gotten him downstairs, but obviously something went wrong there. You saw the blood. And I don’t think it was Heath’s, at least not all of it,” Bran explained, going with his gut feeling. “Let’s go check the place again, see if we can find any clues. I assume it’s not okay to go confront the bitch, in case it isn’t her after all.” Tony got up from the stairs and grabbed Bran’s hand. “We’ll figure this out.” They checked the downstairs first, counting six different spots where blood had been shed. Things had been broken and knocked over, but there were no clues. There were no bloodstains upstairs, only a few spots on the bed, which pretty much told them Bran’s initial assumption was right: they had conked Heath on the head with something. Hurting a vampire was difficult. They healed very fast, and the older they got, the stronger and more agile they became. The only ways to kill a vampire for good were draining or decapitation. Still, there were reports of supposedly fully drained vampires being brought back by force-feeding them blood before they were fully gone. So that pretty much left decapitation. Nobody came back from that. The worst you could do was torture by sunlight. That and draining them slowly, because it hurt like a bitch to be drained, someone had told Bran. Incapacitating a vampire didn’t take much

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more than doing it to a human. You just had to knock them out and tie them down. They were strong, but when hit on the head, they became just as disoriented as humans did. Sure, restraining them took stronger, thicker chains, but it could be done. Bran shivered with disgust. “Hey, that’s not mine,” Bran said suddenly, pointing at a bandana under the bedside table. “Go get a plastic bag from the kitchen, will you? Need to keep the scent in.” Without asking questions, Tony went downstairs and returned with a clear bag. They deposited the dark-green bandana and sealed the bag. “This should give us an idea who to pester first. I just have no idea…. Wait.” Bran raised his hand and tossed the bag at Tony with the other. Then he took his cell phone out and pressed a button. “Sheila? Is Jason around? Can you get him for me?” Bran spoke quickly, and Sheila seemed to understand it was urgent. A couple minutes later, Jason picked up the phone. “Bran? What’s wrong?” “First of all, this is something you can’t tell anyone else yet, okay?” Bran said. “Okay….” Jason’s tone was hesitant. “Someone grabbed Heath while I was getting coffee. Less than hour ago.” “What?” Jason exclaimed before he could prevent himself, and then obviously told Sheila—Bran assumed she was hovering—that it was okay. “What do you need from me?” “Contact everyone you can, ask if there’s anything going on, someone hunting Elders or if someone noticed anything odd happening. They can’t contain him in a vehicle for long and they can’t take him too far. There’s blood everywhere, but I doubt it’s his. And they left a darkgreen bandana behind. It has a few knots in it—does that mean anything to you?” Bran paced in the bedroom while he spoke. “Nothing comes to mind, but I’ll figure it out. I’ll call you if I find out anything,” Jason promised. “Another thing…. We were taken to the twins last night. Turns out they’re not related. They have centuries, as many as five, between

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them. The female is older, and Heath felt a bit uneasy around her. She’s as old as he is, Jason.” Bran sighed and combed through his hair with his fingers. “Shit…. Okay. Don’t do anything stupid. Right now I’ll make some calls and get back to you. Do you have friends helping you?” “Yeah, Tony’s here,” Bran said, smiling at his friend, who sat on the wobbly edge of the bed that now teetered on three legs. “Good. Take care.” With that, Jason ended the call. “What’s Adam doing today?” Bran asked Tony while he went to the closet to change his shirt. He had a feeling he needed something more formal than an old T-shirt. “He’s at work, why?” Tony looked at him in confusion as Bran stripped and then re-dressed. “Good. Don’t contact him. I don’t want him in danger. I think there’s only one thing I can do and that’s… I need to go see the twins.” “No. Absolutely not. You’re not going there alone!” Tony got up, looking enraged. “You’re coming with me?” Bran whirled round as he buttoned the dark-red dress shirt. “Yes! I’m not letting you go alone!” Now he was getting upset. “So we can both die if they turn on us? No. Fucking. Way.” Bran heard his voice getting lower and lower. “What do you want me to do? Wait to see if you come out of there?” Tony snarled at him. “Yes. Exactly. And you’ll contact Ric and Kris, and then the three of you wait together. Because I don’t want to have any of you in danger!” Bran snapped, knowing he was being unreasonable, but he couldn’t help it. Before Tony had time to snap back, Bran hugged him close and said, “Tony, please. I love you, you know that. And I love them too. But the man I’m in love with might be dying, and I can’t….” His voice hitched. “I can’t worry about the three of you too. Okay? As soon as I have something, I’ll call you and you can help. But I can’t have you setting foot into that building….”

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“Okay, babe, okay,” Tony said, apparently finally understanding and resigning himself to do as Bran said. They clung to each other for a moment longer and then stepped back. “I’ll call you. Go to Ric’s,” Bran said, grabbing the bag from Tony. They locked the front door and brushed the glass off Heath’s rental—thank the deities the keys had still been on the countertop in the kitchen—and drove in different directions. It might be too early, and Bran knew that. There was certain etiquette for this sort of stuff—well, not the my-lover-has-beenkidnapped stuff so much as the entering-the-lair thing. He hoped the twins were up and not still asleep. The sun wouldn’t set for hours, and that was a bit risky, but with the blinds on the windows, it was possible they would be awake. Bran didn’t want to think about the determination and premeditation it would take for someone as old as the twins to stay up or wake up so early to do this kind of thing. So if it was the twins who had done this, there was serious intent and hatred behind the kidnapping. He parked in the same spot they had the night before and then took a deep breath. He’d left his leather jacket at home. It was too warm for it during the sunlit hours, but hell if he didn’t miss the comfort—or the illusion of comfort—it provided right now. Bran grabbed the baggie from the passenger’s seat and stepped out of the car. There was no one around. A few people passed the building as if they didn’t see it at all. For a moment Bran hesitated at the buzzer; then he swallowed and pushed the button. “Yes?” a voice asked. “I’m Bran Roland. I was here last night with Heath Cromwell. I need to speak with Franco—it’s urgent.” He hoped the flirting Franco had done the night before would be enough to pique the vampire’s curiosity. “Let me check if he can see you,” the cool voice said, and the staticky sound ended before Bran could thank him.

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He stood there for minutes, almost positive he wouldn’t be let in. Then someone pressed a button somewhere and the door unlocked with an audible electric click. “Come on up,” the voice said in the speaker. Bran felt like there should have been a sign above the door. Something along the lines of “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here” might be suitable. The Asian vampire was waiting for him at the elevators. “My name is Tadashi.” The man nodded politely, looking at Bran with something slightly off in his dark eyes. “Franco is meeting you on the top floor again.” “All right, lead the way,” Bran said, smiling because he felt like doing so. The ride in the elevator was just as quiet as it had been the previous time, even though the machinery itself made noise. Damn. Bran didn’t look at the vampire, but he wondered what the deal with him was. He was a bodyguard, but something about his demeanor had alerted Bran last night. It was like he was… jealous? Of which of the older vampires? Lilith or Franco? “Is Lilith around?” Bran asked, testing the waters. “She’s not on the top floor.” The answer didn’t tell him much, but it told Bran that there was no love lost between Tadashi and Lilith. So it was Franco, then. Tadashi wanted his boss, who either didn’t care for the Asian or just didn’t see him that way. “How old are you, Tadashi?” Bran asked casually. The vampire spluttered for a moment, then looked at Bran in a way that pretty much told him to fuck off. “Okay, so are you older or younger than Franco?” Bran asked, smiling a little. Maybe it was his own happiness, even if it was threatened right now, that made him care for this almost statuesque vampire. Or was his meddling in the matters of the heart finally branching out to vampires too? “Older,” Tadashi finally said quietly, like he wasn’t sure if he was divulging this information against his will or not.

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“So why don’t you just wait until Lilith’s out and take a chance? You’re stronger; he should respect you. If you want him, take him.” Bran shrugged, and the doors dinged open just in time for him to leave the baffled, slightly offended vampire in the elevator. Tadashi had pulled himself together by the time Bran reached the door to Franco’s rooms, and he used his speed to get to the door and open it before Bran had time to touch the handle. Show-off. Nothing new for Bran, though. “Brandon! How can I help you today?” a delighted voice almost cooed at Bran when he stepped in. He plastered a smile on his face and glanced at Tadashi over his shoulder briefly, shooting the vampire a look that pretty much showed how much Bran didn’t want to be there with Franco. “This is sort of a… delicate matter, I’m afraid,” Bran said to Franco. “Tad, could you leave us? But don’t go far.” Franco excused the bodyguard with a flighty flick of his wrist. “Brandon, please sit down.” Bran went to sit on an armchair instead of the couch, trying to keep the vampire at bay, whatever his intentions were. Franco glanced at the seat he’d chosen and a small smirk graced his lips. “Now, please tell me. I can see you’re nervous, but there’s no need for that, I can assure you.” The vampire sat down on the closest possible seat, the end of a couch. “I believe someone kidnapped Heath today.” There was no use beating around the bush, now, was there? If it really was Lilith who had taken Heath, he was sure Franco didn’t know about it. Bran wasn’t sure why, but something about Franco suggested that he was tired of the female’s games. Bran had seen it the first time they’d sat in this room. It wasn’t anything major, just small things that Franco tried to hide. If it wasn’t Lilith …. Well, Franco was still an ally. He still seemed to want to get closer to Bran, who wasn’t above using that to get the love of his life back. It might seem cruel to some, but Franco would get over it. And there was always Tadashi to take care of his boss, after all.

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Franco’s expression was shocked enough—until he hid his emotions behind the well-worn mask of friendly indifference—to tell Bran it hadn’t been him. The silence while Franco thought about what Bran had just said stretched a little. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just a polite way not to repeat the “oh, but he’s so old” and “someone was determined and skilled” the vampire seemed to know Bran had been going through already. “How can I help you with this?” Franco asked eventually, leaning forward toward Bran a little. “I need to know one thing…. You can choose not to answer me, naturally, but I’d ask, if you let me.” Bran kept a firm hold of his patience. He’d need it to jump through all the hoops required to get Heath back. “Fine, ask.” Franco’s smile was cautious but also curious. “Where is Lilith from?” Bran breathed the question out with less confidence than he wanted. Franco hadn’t been expecting that, not at all. The vampire looked neutral, but his eyes were wary. “See, I know she’s almost exactly Heath’s age, and… something just…. Call it a hunch.” Bran began to backpedal a little. “She’s from Jerusalem, I believe.” Bran gasped. It all made sense now. All the weird little thoughts that had been swimming in his mind suddenly made sense. “Then I don’t have to ask you if you know any of the scents on this.” Bran pulled the bag with the bandana still inside from his pocket and tossed it to Franco. “Heath was a crusader.” The words left Bran’s lips in a broken little sob. He wasn’t sure Heath had a fighting chance now. A grudge like that…. Franco had opened the bag and was taking a whiff of the scent when he jumped up from his seat, and for a moment Bran thought that was it; the vampire was looking lethal all of a sudden. “Tadashi!” Franco called out in a tone that made the other vampire burst in through the doors with his fangs bared. “Where is Lilith?”

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“I….” Tadashi looked uncertain. “She might be older than us both, but you are still mine.” Franco’s tone was so dangerous that even Tadashi swallowed hard. “She didn’t come home last night, so at one of the other locations, I assume.” Tadashi flicked his gaze from his boss to Bran. “Get everyone who is loyal to me. Make them search the buildings, right now. There’s a possibility she’s gone mad and is trying to hurt Heath Cromwell.” Franco’s tone was one of a high officer’s, and for the first time, the slight flamboyant edge vanished and the vampire was all soldier. “Yes, sir.” Tadashi bowed and vanished at inhuman speed. “We’ll find him, Brandon, I promise you.” Franco looked determined and apologetic at the same time. The wait was grueling. Franco remained deep in thought. Then again, Bran wasn’t up for conversation; he had too much on his plate with his own head at the moment. Time seemed to freeze, and every sound from the building and the street became louder. Bran tried to avoid thinking about the “what ifs” and the possible outcomes of the next few hours. He tried his best to block the images flooding his mind, the errant thoughts of losing Heath again, this time permanently. He couldn’t go there, not now when he needed to be sharp, to let the vampires help and deal with their own. Only then could Bran step in and deal with what was left of his. As soon as Tadashi came back, maybe ten minutes later, Franco stood up again and looked seriously at Bran. “What do you want to do?” The question surprised Bran, because they were giving him an option. He hadn’t expected that. “Where are they?” Bran turned his gaze to Tadashi and the few vampires standing behind him. “In the basement of one of the buildings we have in West Lake. They do have Mr. Cromwell.” The usually grave features of the Asian vampire looked even more serious now. Shit. This wasn’t good at all. “How many younglings has she recruited?” Bran’s next question brought a surprised expression to Tadashi’s face. Bran didn’t have to look at Franco to know the other vampire was looking at him similarly.

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“We’re guessing five to seven,” Tadashi sighed. “Can you give us a few minutes?” Bran asked, as if he could ask such a thing, as if he were in charge. Tadashi bowed and closed the door again. “I’d rather not call the police,” Bran said quietly. They both knew that if the police came, even the vampire special, it could go so very wrong in so many ways. Either Lilith would try to take down everyone—and she’d probably succeed—or they’d capture her and she’d end up as a test subject somewhere. “I agree, but she has broken the rules. Whatever she has done,” Franco said, and Bran knew what he really meant was whether or not Heath was still alive, “I want her punished.” “So we play it by ear?” Bran confirmed with a small, wry smile. “Oh yes.” Franco’s expression matched his, and they walked together toward the door. Tadashi stood there, waiting for orders, and Bran recognized the three younger vampires from the night before. At least they weren’t part of Lilith’s gang. Tadashi had a sword strapped to his back, something that didn’t surprise Bran as much as it probably should have. “Let’s go,” Franco ordered, and he, Bran, and Tadashi took the elevator. The trio took the stairs. “If I may…,” Tadashi said quietly as the elevator descended. “Speak up,” Franco said shortly. “She’s been erratic, but… I think I might know what prompted this. I think she and Mr. Cromwell share a sire.” Both Franco and Bran stared at Tadashi with horror. “I’m good at detecting scents….” Suddenly Tadashi looked uncomfortable. “I could smell the same basic essence in both of them.” “So not only is he a crusader, they were turned by the same person…,” Bran murmured. They decided to use the door at the shadowed back of the building to get to the cars. It was risky for the Elders—the sun was still up, after all—so they had the younger vampires checking the way for direct sunshine first.

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The coats the Elders had grabbed somewhere when Bran wasn’t watching covered them enough to make it all as safe as possible. The car they used was a large SUV, so there was enough room for all of them when Five went to sit in the very back. The car had tinted—almost black—windows, but the two eldest vampires were still extra careful about the sunlight, and one of the young ones drove, while Bran rode shotgun. He wasn’t sure how long the drive was. Fifteen minutes? Twenty? All he knew was that they couldn’t get there fast enough. Listening to Tadashi talking on the phone, organizing the group of young vampires on Franco’s side, made Bran’s stomach turn. The building surprised him. It was in the residential area of West Lake, one of many similar tiny red-brick houses in various states of disrepair. The closest houses were empty, by the looks of it, and Bran silently commended Lilith for picking such a private place for her gang. This particular house had a garage attached, and someone had opened the door for them. Three other cars were parked along the street nearby, and Bran assumed they belonged to various vampires as well. Bran could see the perks of having young vampires as staff for the older ones; they could still move in sunlight, and without them Bran would have been alone today. Instead, one of them waved at the car to drive in before closing the door behind them. “They’re all downstairs,” the doorman, or door vampire, said to Tadashi as soon as they stepped out of the car. “We took care of the guards.” The vampire said something else to Tadashi, while Franco seemed to be making sure Bran wouldn’t march in first. Not that Bran wanted to, but something about being so close to Heath now made him twitchy. They didn’t want to alert Lilith immediately. Something about Franco’s behavior during the past hour had made it seem like she hadn’t been too stable to begin with and that he had been waiting for something like this to happen. Like all the coincidences lining up like stars before something terrible happened. Bran didn’t want to think about getting downstairs into the basement too late, but that was a possibility. What freaked him out

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even more was that he knew he wouldn’t be able to prevent himself from doing something desperate and reckless if this was the day he lost Heath for good. With Tadashi in front, Bran and Franco flanking him, and the rest of the gang following them, they walked through the door into the kitchen and toward the stairs that led into the basement. It reminded Bran of a solemn funeral crowd or something. As soon as they opened the door to the stairs, they heard the shrieking. One of Lilith’s younglings appeared, jogging up the stairs without looking up, and bumped into Tadashi, who snapped his neck without hesitation. One twist of the wrist, his long fingers around the boy’s neck, and the body slumped to the floor. Bran doubted the boy would have had a chance, even if he hadn’t heard the crunching of the bones. As good as decapitation for sure, Bran thought morbidly. Tadashi pulled the corpse to the kitchen and left it there. Bran cringed at the disgusting sounds but decided he couldn’t care, not right now. “Was he one of her guards, then?” Bran asked. “No, the ones guarding the house were the first ones taken down by our young ones. One of the guards was wearing a green bandanna,” Tadashi said before gathering the younger vampires around him to make some kind of an attack plan. Bran hadn’t heard from Jason yet, so he used the time to take a look at his cell and found an alarming text from the young vampire. She has LSD with her. Trying to make them into her soldiers. “Fucking shit!” Bran growled. Franco looked at him questioningly. “What is it?” “She has three kids of mine in there, two boys and a girl. They’re young, they’ll stick together. Don’t hurt them, okay?” He looked from one vampire to another until he had caught the eye of each and every one of them. “We’ll do our best,” Tadashi promised. The vampires agreed that they’d take everyone but Bran’s kids and Lilith down. That was easiest, and they would be worse off alive afterward, anyway. It was merciful, Five said. They couldn’t be trusted, and they had chosen their path. Franco agreed.

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Bran understood that these vampires, no matter how they had seemed before, respected the mostly unspoken rules of the vampire society. They weren’t rogues or outlaws, not like Bran had originally thought when he’d heard someone was poaching for his kids. No, it had been Lilith all along. She had an agenda of some kind, and maybe they’d never find out what it was, but recruiting new kids to be her “soldiers” was going to end here today. Bran was told to stay back as the vampires—curiously not armed in any way, but then again, why would they need guns?—flooded the narrow stairs and went in as a well-trained military unit. Only Franco stayed back, at Tadashi’s insistence, and Bran could tell Franco was nervous. He just didn’t know if Franco was afraid for Tadashi’s life or Lilith’s. The sounds that carried to where Bran was waiting were hideous. Screams, wailing, Lilith screeching like a banshee. Pained sounds that grated on his nerves like nothing else. The thumps and sounds of things being ripped apart…. He’d never forget them. And then Tadashi and Five came back, looking wild-eyed, covered in blood and with their fangs bared. “She wants you two,” Tadashi said, and Franco, with his fangs suddenly visible, gestured for Bran to come with him. Taking a deep breath, bracing himself for what he’d see, Bran descended into the basement and walked after Franco along the suddenly endless-seeming short corridor. Bloodied vampires, Franco’s team, were coming out of the room at the end, but Bran couldn’t concentrate enough to be able to tell the ratio of the ones that’d gone in to the ones who were coming out. The windowless room they stepped into was large, and the overhead lights were just bright enough to make Bran gasp at what he saw. Lilith looked like an angel of death. Her eyes were very dark, and she was wearing a black dress that mercifully didn’t show the amount of blood on her. But her unblemished milky white skin was covered in red stains.

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“Did you know,” she said, looking first at Franco and then swiveling her head to gaze at Bran, “that he’s my brother?” The cackle made her sound maniacal. “Yes.” Bran nodded and looked straight at her instead of anywhere else in the room. He could hear sobbing and guessed it was Lindy. Bran could only hope that the boys were okay too. “Not only is he a filthy crusader,” she said, and then she spat at the floor near a medieval-looking cage that held a body, “but he’s also my own blood.” Bran looked at the floor, which was painted with dark puddles. There were body parts scattered around; the younger vampires Lilith had had time to make into her army had been killed. When Bran raised his gaze enough to look at where the sobbing was coming from, he saw Lindy, her brother, and her cousin in the corner, all huddled together like the scared children they were. While Bran avoided looking at the cage, afraid he would run to it if he did, Lilith ranted and raved, less and less coherent by the minute. “You do understand this won’t go unpunished, right?” Bran asked quietly, finally raising his gaze to look at her and the cage she stood next to. “So?” Lilith sneered, pushing the cage to make it rock a little. It was black and sturdy despite obviously being old, maybe old enough to actually be medieval. He hadn’t seen one before, not in real life, but he remembered seeing them in movies. They were those things that hung outside towns or castles, with a rotting corpse inside. Warnings for betrayers, thieves, murderers, and other criminals. This one had been hung from a large hook on the ceiling, but it was only about five inches from the floor. The cage was small enough to contain Heath in such a way that he couldn’t do anything to get out. He just didn’t have space to move at all. Not that he was in any condition to do it, anyway. There was a large puddle of blood the color of liver right under the cage, and Bran could see that Heath was barely hanging on. Knocked out and drained. It wasn’t a way for a vampire his age to die. Hell, Bran didn’t want that for Lilith, either!

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“Why didn’t you call the police, Brandon?” Lilith asked, spitting out his name like she had spat on the floor. “Because even you have survived this long for a reason. Just like him. And it isn’t fair for him to die here like this, nor for you to end up in a lab somewhere so that they can poke and prod at you. You share a sire. You’re as close to family any two vampires can be.” Bran spoke in an even tone that had nothing to do with the turmoil and panic he was feeling inside, something his degree and work at the shelter had made him good at. He couldn’t be sure if Heath was still alive, not without getting closer. “He killed my people!” Lilith growled in a tone that made Bran’s skin crawl and Lindy whimper in the corner. “Yes, but he did as he was told. He told me over a decade ago that he didn’t want to do it then and that he still regrets going along with it all. He lost his faith there; he thought it was wrong. He couldn’t help what happened there, but you can end this right now.” Bran turned to face the vampiress head-on. Franco and Tadashi both stepped closer. They stood as a united front before her. They couldn’t take her down, most likely, but they could try. “Why would I?” she snarled and crouched a little. “Because you don’t want to die here,” Tadashi said evenly, with no fear whatsoever in his dark eyes. “Because you’re my sister more than you are his.” Franco spoke with conviction. “Because I’ve loved him for over a decade, and he’s my mate.” Bran spoke from his heart, the truth in the words almost startling him. She looked at them, and for a moment Bran wasn’t sure what she’d do. Then she made a decision. “Will you let me leave if I let him go?” she asked, straightening her pose a little. “Will you leave Atlanta and never come back?” Bran asked, as if it were his city.

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She looked at Franco then and considered for a moment. “You won’t be coming with me this time, will you, brother?” For just a moment, her voice was almost childlike. “No, I’m afraid not. I think this is the end of the line for you and me, sister.” Franco’s smile was sad. Lilith swayed where she stood, contemplating her fate, Bran suspected. She was glorious in a very she-demon kind of way. Suddenly she jerked and walked around the room, touching a wall here and there, avoiding the kids in the corner but seeming nonchalant about stepping in the gore on the floor. Oddly, that was the thing that disgusted Bran the most, the biggest proof of her insanity. It seemed that her madness flickered, and she was coming back to her more sane self, however momentarily, and in a way, Bran felt sorry for her. The relationship she’d had with Franco was finished, and she had possibly realized that killing a crusader who also was her vampire brother wouldn’t solve a thing. However, she was volatile, and he didn’t want to show his emotions to her. Lilith stopped again in the middle of the room and stood there, her back straight now, and glanced at Tadashi. “Will you take care of him for me?” Tadashi blinked and then nodded. “Yes, I will.” “Well, then, can I ask you for another favor, Tadashi-san?” She smiled, and there was something disturbing in her expression. “Yes, Mistress.” “Would you do me the honor of letting me die by your hand?” Her tone was even and calm. “Lilith, please…,” Franco pleaded suddenly, looking horrified. To Bran’s surprise, Tadashi placed his hand on Franco’s shoulder and shook his head at his boss. “Of course. Let me get my katana, Mistress,” he said, and Lilith nodded. While Tadashi went to get his sword from where he’d left it in the corridor after the first fight, no doubt moving at vampire speed so as not to keep Lilith waiting, she stepped away from the cage and looked at Bran with an apology in her eyes. It almost looked sincere.

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“He’s alive still,” she said, and Bran exhaled in relief. “And I didn’t hurt them.” She nodded toward the corner where the kids known as LSD still huddled together. “Good. Thank you.” Bran nodded and went to the cage. Franco embraced Lilith for a moment, then stepped away to lower the cage to the floor. The rattling of the chain through the loop in the ceiling grated on Bran’s nerves. Luckily, the movement and sound made Heath’s consciousness return, at least partially. Bran tried his best to concentrate on Heath’s face and not the sound of him groaning almost inaudibly. Bran could tell Lilith had done a good job torturing Heath; the rivulets of dried blood from the now mostly healed wounds were a gruesome sight. The smell of blood was something Bran was more or less used to—being around vampires did that to one—but this was Heath’s blood. The blood that stranger and Bran had given him last night. Hell, Bran needed to get some blood into Heath, but he couldn’t donate any. It was too soon. You could only donate once, maybe twice a week if you didn’t overdo it, and last night Heath had taken plenty from him. His body couldn’t cope with giving more so soon. “Fuck!” he hissed as Franco wrenched open the cage door. They pulled Heath’s naked body out of the steel contraption, and Bran began to check him thoroughly. “Let’s get him upstairs and away from here,” Franco said, ignoring the fact that Tadashi was back and Lilith was standing stoically in the middle of the large room. “Kids, get out of here. Get one of Franco’s people to drive you to the shelter and make sure the staff there know we’ll be okay. No details. None. Just…. If you need to talk, talk to Jenna, okay?” Bran told the young vampires, who scrambled out of their corner and out the door. As they were exiting, there was a sharp whooshing sound and a double thump when Tadashi’s blade cut Lilith’s beautiful head from her body. Lindy squeaked, and the boys ran after her as fast as they could. “I’m sorry about her,” Bran said to Franco, who nodded, sorrow in his eyes.

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“I’ll carry him.” Tadashi came to them, handing his katana to Franco before gathering Heath into his arms. “He needs blood, and he fed from me last night,” Bran said, though he knew the other vampires could probably tell anyway. They were old enough for their senses to have been honed to the point where they could smell Bran’s scent both outside and inside Heath. And on the floor below the cage, where it pooled, mixed with Heath’s own essence and that of the donor from the back room at Pierced. “Our donors should be ready when we get back to our building. Five went to see to that,” Franco stated, looking once more into the room where the female he’d called a sister for a long time lay dead. Bran followed Tadashi, who carried Heath’s bigger, if not taller, frame as easily as Bran would’ve carried a small child. Bran felt hope for the first time since seeing his door busted open. It was such a cliché, but it really felt like it had been days ago instead of just a couple of hours. So much blood had been spilled. He didn’t want to even think how many corpses really lay on the floor of the room they’d left behind. Five was okay, and so were LSD. He didn’t know how many younglings Lilith had really had there with her. “How many did you lose?” Bran asked Franco. “Oh…. She didn’t fight us, so we lost none. Only those who were with her were killed.” “Good. I’m glad.” Bran nodded. “So you’ve come to the conclusion we aren’t the bad guys?” Franco smiled wryly. “How was I supposed to know that? I mean, there were the rumors about new Elders being in town, possibly recruiting younglings….” Bran shrugged, playing it down, not using the word “twins.” “True, and I have to admit I did nothing to prevent her powertripping. I couldn’t have gone against her, but I could have toned her down…. That worked for centuries, after all,” Franco said, sounding defeated.

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They walked through the kitchen back to the garage, and then the same young vampire drove them back to the building. The journey, even with Heath’s blanket-covered body propped up between Tadashi and Franco in the backseat, felt so much shorter, it surprised Bran. “I’m sure you did your best, but this time that wouldn’t have been enough. She was too far gone now, wasn’t she?” Bran asked, returning to the discussion while their driver was parking the car as close to the door as possible. “I believe so…. In a way, I will grieve for her for all eternity. But in some ways, I know it was the right decision she made. She wasn’t able to live alone, and with her mental state….” Franco sighed and shook his head. It was weird to think how different two vampires who shared a sire—and had both survived for longer than most other vampires ever would—could be. Where Lilith had succumbed to her deteriorating mental state, Heath had become stronger, more loving and emotional. Bran wondered if Lilith would’ve been different if she’d had younger companions instead of Franco and Tadashi. In the elevator, Heath stirred a little. He groaned and tried to raise his head but couldn’t quite muster the strength. “Shh, love. I’m here. You’re going to be okay in a bit. Just hold on and rest for now,” Bran whispered to the oldest of the three vampires in the small space. Suddenly a thought penetrated Bran’s brain. These vampires were so old. All three of them were Elders. Bran had heard of the power they exuded, their age, knowledge, and wisdom—and sometimes the evil in them—that humans as the weaker species could physically feel. The thought made their subtle natural auras—which Bran could normally ignore, having been around vampires for so long—burst into his consciousness. He reeled, grabbing the wall for purchase, and rode the swimming sensation in his mind. “I wondered how long that would take you….” Franco said drily from next to him. Bran was escorted to Franco’s rooms. The vampire held onto his arm, and Bran let himself be led.

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He and Heath were deposited on a bed that seemed to be in a guest room of some kind, two rooms over from what Bran guessed was Franco’s bedroom. Tadashi placed Heath on one side of the bed, and Franco led Bran to the other. “Sit,” Franco told Bran, who could only comply. Maybe part of it was shock too, but when three humans— afterward Bran couldn’t have said if they were male or female, or what they looked like—came in to feed their blood to Heath, Bran lay there next to his lover, his eyes closed, and tried to regain his equilibrium. When a cool hand finally grasped his, he blinked and turned to look at Heath. “Hi,” Bran said and squeezed the cool fingers tangled with his. “Thank you.” Heath’s voice was slightly raspy, but the blood he had ingested was making a difference already. “You look better.” Bran raised his free hand to run his fingertips along Heath’s slightly stubbly jaw. “I was scared there for a moment.” “Me too.” Heath’s eyes shone with relief and something an awful lot like love. A knock on the door made them both turn to look. Tadashi, looking bashful suddenly, peeked in. “Franco said that there are towels in the bathroom, and one of our humans is about your size, sir.” The vampire held a pile of clothes in his hands. “No need for the formal address. Tadashi, was it?” Heath asked, smiling as he got up from the bed to accept the clothes. “Yes,” Tadashi said and offered them a polite smile before retreating from the doorway. “Well, I suppose I should shower now. And you’re joining me,” Heath told Bran, who headed to the bathroom after his lover. It wasn’t quite as nice as Ric’s bathroom, but it was still comfortable, and the shower was big enough for them both. Bran could tell Heath was still feeling weak, but he got stronger by the minute. They soaked in the hot spray, and Bran took his time washing the blood off his lover’s skin. There were no visible scars; Heath was too old for them to stay on his skin for longer than a few moments, especially after he’d fed so thoroughly.

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“I’m glad you’re okay,” Bran whispered against Heath’s neck when the washing was winding down and they were embracing each other under the shower. “When they took me, all I could think was thank heavens you weren’t home,” Heath said quietly into Bran’s hair. “I thought ‘I’d rather die than let them hurt him.’” A rush of emotions overwhelmed Bran, and he clung to Heath’s slippery skin for a while as he sobbed and tried to get himself under control again. He realized Heath was crying too, and they stood there for a few minutes longer before Heath finally turned off the water and they stepped out. Quietly they toweled each other, kissed once, and got dressed again. There was the need to reconnect, yes, but they were guests here. As they stepped into the bedroom, Bran’s phone vibrated on the bed, and he quickly reached for it. “It’s Ric,” he told Heath before answering the call. “You can take it in the hallway. I’ll be right out.” Heath nodded at him, and he decided that it might be better to speak outside. Not that Heath couldn’t hear him speak through the wall, but Bran believed he wouldn’t listen in on purpose. “Ric, I’m okay,” he said into the phone. “What the fuck is going on?” Ric’s heated tone managed somehow to sound more caring than angry. “It’s all okay now; we’ll tell you later. I’m fine, Heath’s fine.” Bran tried to calm his ex down. “You better fucking be or I’ll murder you myself!” Kris’s voice came on. “Bran, I’ll calm him down. Just promise me you’re okay?” “Yes, Kris, I’m okay. Love you both, and tell Tony he can stop cursing now.” Bran chuckled. “Yeah, he does that a lot when he’s worried, doesn’t he?” Bran could hear the grin in Kris’s tone. “I tried to prevent Ric from calling you, but this was as long as I could stop him,” Kris said, and Bran could hear loud objections from the background.

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“It’s okay, though I wouldn’t have answered before.” Bran smiled. He liked the fact that Kris, despite his young age, knew them all so well. “Exactly. How was all the excitement?” Kris’s tone was honestly curious. “Somewhat of an anticlimax, really. Nothing to write home about.” Bran downplayed the events, but it was also the truth: vampires doing things their way was rarely exciting and almost always swift and brutal. “Oh, well, if you ever need to talk about it or I can help in any other way….” “Hmm… actually, you don’t happen to know anyone who can clean up my place? Needs new furniture, new window, cleaning, and a paint job too….” Bran groaned when he ran down the mental list. “Oh… that bad? I’m sure we can come up with something. Your house will be as good as new in a couple of days,” Kris promised. “Which hotel is Heath staying at? I could make sure someone brings some of the clothes over from here for the time you’re there.” Bran gave Kris the name of the hotel and Heath’s room number, then lifted his gaze to see Franco standing at the other end of the short hallway. “Thanks, Kris. I gotta go. See you later.” Bran ended the call and walked over to Franco. The vampire looked thoughtful. “Everything okay?” Bran asked when he reached the brunet. “Oh yes, I was just wondering if you and Heath were okay too.” Franco raised a hand to touch Bran’s arm gently. “We’re fine, both of us.” Bran tried to stay polite, even though the touch worried him a little. “And you’re… with him?” Franco asked, and suddenly Bran realized that the vampire had been interested in him for real, not just flirting with him. As flattering as the thought was—Franco was handsome in his own way and old enough to take his pick from humans and vampires alike—there was only the truth to tell him.

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“I met him when I was nineteen. I lost him for over a decade, Franco. I love him. He’s my mate, not a boyfriend. He’s it for me.” Bran smiled gently, then smirked a little. “Besides, you should look closer. You already have someone who would die for you, someone who is head over heels in love with you but too timid to rock the boat.” Franco looked at him, and at first his expression was a bit defeated. Then a sudden small smile graced his features. “Oh…,” Franco said, and Bran chuckled. “Oh yes. Keep your eyes open and don’t hurt him, Franco. He’s a good man, I can tell.” Bran knew he was overstepping, but he was saved by the bell, or by Heath’s steps, rather. “Everything okay here?” Heath asked, wrapping his arm around Bran’s waist and looking pointedly at Franco’s hand where it still lingered on Bran’s arm. “Yes, everything’s… perfect.” Franco smiled and pulled his hand away. “Can I get you gentlemen anything else?” “No, thank you. I think we need to get to my hotel and regroup a little.” Heath spoke for the both of them, and Bran nodded at the plan. “Thank you, Franco, and we’re sorry for your loss,” Bran said and quickly squeezed Franco’s fingers. “Yes, sorry about everything,” Heath agreed with him seriously. “No. I’m sad that I lost her, but it’s me who should be apologizing to you right now. I’m just glad that you’re not permanently injured!” Franco said with sudden passion in his tone. Then he sighed and lowered his gaze for a moment before looking up again. “To be honest… she’s never been that stable. I think something your sire did to her…. For the past century she was more unstable than ever before. Tadashi had to do damage control. He knows more details if you ever want to find out.” Both Bran and Heath nodded at Franco, mostly to make him feel better. “It was shameful what she and her followers did, and I will be eternally in your debt, Mr. Cromwell.” Franco’s tone was apologetic again.

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“Oh no, you’re not going to burden yourself with this,” Heath said, and Bran could feel the vampire straightening his already militant pose further. “This was not your fault. The guilty have been punished, and it is all done. Now we go on with our lives. I have a business endeavor you might be able to help me with, so I’ll contact you when I have time.” “Certainly.” Franco nodded, looking relieved. They said good-byes and were escorted out by Tadashi. Not because they were considered a threat, but because Tadashi seemed to worry about them. “We’re fine. Good luck with… everything.” Bran grinned at the vampire, who looked bashful, like he would have blushed if it were possible. “Thank you. And to you as well,” Tadashi said, waiting to pull the doors closed behind them.

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BY

THE time they reached Heath’s hotel, the vampire looked like

nothing special had happened that day. There was no trace of the physical trauma whatsoever, and for that, Bran was thankful. But Bran knew that vampires, even though they weren’t human, were still capable of experiencing emotional trauma. To Bran’s surprise, it was Adam who sat in the lobby of the hotel, waiting for them. “Hey, they sent you?” Bran asked, hugging Adam and enjoying the strength of his friend, so alive, against him. “I volunteered, made them stay back. Kris wasn’t going to leave Ric, Ric would’ve tried to maul your vampire, and Tony… well, you know Tony.” Adam smiled, then hugged Bran again. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” “Trust me, me too.” Bran grinned and took the offered small suitcase of clothes from Adam. “I’m happy he didn’t lose you,” Adam said to Heath, who was edging closer, appearing jealous all of a sudden. “Thank you. It means a lot to know that at least some of Bran’s friends aren’t against me.” Heath’s tone was dry. “Give them time; they’ll see how good you are for him,” Adam said and shook Heath’s hand. “I better be going, calm Tony down a bit.” “Oh, I’m sure you’ll figure out some way to manage it….” Bran smirked at Adam, who blushed. “Shut up,” the bigger man murmured and walked out of the hotel.

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They made their way to Heath’s hotel room, and suddenly exhaustion hit Bran full force. The adrenaline that had coursed through him for the better part of the afternoon was suddenly gone, and he just felt… numb. Heath seemed to notice and led him straight to bed. “Sleep. We’ll get room service when you wake up. I’ll call the shelter for you and explain.” Bran stripped to his underwear and slid under the covers. He was going to argue that he would call his work himself, but before he could, he was fast asleep. Again. Wow. It was probably the safety of the hotel room, plus being able to truly sleep instead of resting his eyes and keeping tabs on everything happening around him despite the fatigue. Whatever the reason, he woke up hours later with a start, disoriented and absolutely certain Heath was dead. The room was dim, and he yelped when a cool hand pressed his shoulder. “Just me, love. Just me,” Heath’s sleepy voice murmured from next to him. The British accent was still there, especially when the vampire was tired, and the way he said “love” sounded more like “luv,” and it was that familiarity that broke Bran. He gasped in a breath that burst out of him in a sudden, desperate sound. He was pulled against the cool, familiar chest, and the murmured words of reassurance and affection flooded over him like his relief had. They clung to each other, touching, kissing frantically, trying to get as close as possible, and eventually, after minutes of this deep despair, desire took over. Bran found himself opening up for Heath’s fingers, the slick lube warming fast even through the difference between their body temperatures. They made love, slow and gentle that turned into rough, rushed, and desperate in the end, just the way they had always liked it. Closing in on his climax, Bran could tell Heath was trying to keep from biting him because he hadn’t eaten anything of substance yet. “’M not that weak, do it,” he groaned, tilting his head for access. Heath growled, obviously torn between giving Bran time to gather his strength and biting because it was natural and gave so much

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pleasure to them both. Finally he lowered his head and bit through Bran’s skin, groaning at the taste. Bran could tell he was holding back, not taking all he wanted, but that was okay because it was endorphins and pain he wanted and needed. It was enough to push them to their orgasms and to feel as connected as possible—just what they needed. In the afterglow, with Heath’s body pressing his to the mattress, Bran welcomed the weight of him and the fact that they were both still there. There was no need for proclamations of love: they both felt it. Heath rolled them over, holding onto Bran like a warm blanket. They kissed leisurely, tasting each other—for some reason the taste of his own blood from Heath’s lips was still erotic as hell—until Bran realized he needed food. “You promised me room service?” He raised a brow at the vampire he loved, who smiled up at him. “Yes, I believe I did,” Heath agreed, and Bran struggled to get free from the mess attaching them to each other. “We need a shower. Again,” Bran pointed out, making a face at the feeling of come dripping down his thigh when he got up from the bed. They called for room service, a proper dinner with both juice and wine to drink for Bran—Heath insisted on making sure he was getting vitamins, and reminded him to begin taking iron pills and supplements if he planned on donating to his lover in the future—before going to clean up. They washed each other lovingly, kissing every now and then but with no intent to take it further. Not when they were sated, for now, and food was on the way. Bran left the shower first and went to the suitcase Kris had gathered for him. He pulled on some boxers and a T-shirt with a wornout band logo on it and was just about to sit on the bed when there was a knock on the door. He walked out of the bedroom of Heath’s suite and went to open the door. Instead of room service, there was a young-looking man standing outside the door. A young man who looked a lot like Bran had in his late teens.

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“Well, well… I guess you’re Mace,” the boy, a vampire by the looks of it, stated, tilting his head and assessing Bran from head to toe with his fangs showing a little bit. “Let me guess. You’re….” Bran dug the name from his memory. “Logan.” “Bingo. Is Daddy around?” Logan’s eyes flashed teasingly. Bran stepped back. “Shower. He should be out soon. And I’m called Bran these days.” “Excellent…. You know, it’s like looking into a mirror that shows the future I’ll never have,” Logan purred in a tone that suddenly held a lot of contempt. “What are you doing here?” Heath, dressed only in a pair of loose jeans, asked sharply from the bedroom doorway. “Well, hello to you too, Daddy.” Logan sauntered closer to the Elder, and for a moment Bran thought Heath would slap the young vampire. He didn’t; however, the threat was there in the air. Another knock, this time from room service, interrupted the potentially threatening situation, and Bran went to open the door. The cart was rolled in and the waiter asked if they wanted the food set out, but Bran gave him a tip and sent him on his merry way instead. “I need to eat. You two sort this… whatever this is… out,” Bran stated. Then he went to sit down at the table and pointedly ignored the two vampires. Heath pushed Logan inside the bedroom and closed the door. Bran wasn’t worried, let alone jealous, but he certainly appreciated that they weren’t arguing in front of him. Their raised voices carried through the thick door, but Bran shut them out, concentrating on his meal. It was a quality dinner, and the wine he drank let him feel the slight loosening of his muscles. He had gone tense as soon as he’d realized who the gorgeous boy behind the door was. It wasn’t hard to guess, not with the leather jacket, the long, shiny black hair, and the features that were so much like Bran’s own it was creepy. They could’ve been brothers.

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Of course Logan looked about twenty, but in reality he was more or less Bran’s age. Bran tried to trust the fact that Heath had told him they weren’t compatible. That was the only reason Bran sat there, calmly eating, while the vampires had their little chat. By the time Bran was finishing his second glass of wine, the door opened and a suitably chastised-looking Logan walked out. Bran turned to look at him and got the shock of his life when the vampire walked straight to him, knelt next to his chair, and said, “Thank you for saving my sire. I’ll be forever in your debt,” before raising his dark-brown eyes to look at Bran. The emotion was real, the gratitude was there, and the hesitance—as if Logan wasn’t sure if he’d blown the situation with his entrance—was easily read for someone like Bran, who knew how to read people. “I did it because I love him,” Bran said simply. “Get up and sit on a chair or something,” he added and took a sip of his wine. Logan grinned slightly, got up, and took a seat by the table. After that the conversation flowed naturally; they had some things other than Heath in common. When the Elder joined them, they had a nice evening together, something Bran hadn’t anticipated at all. “Where are you staying?” Heath asked Logan at some point. “I was going to get a room somewhere.” Logan shrugged, clearly not very concerned about where he’d stay. “I’ll call the reception. You’ll take whatever room is closest to this one and available,” Heath said in the tone Bran knew meant business. He glanced at Logan, who had been going to say something but instead closed his mouth again. Logan looked at Bran, and they grinned at each other. Apparently they had enough to bond over, including the fact that they both knew Heath and his habits. “Fine, whatever you say, Daddy.” Logan smirked, and Heath rolled his eyes as he moved to make the call.

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Chapter 12

ON TUESDAY morning, Bran woke up bright and early and called room service for breakfast—that was a nice perk, not having to make breakfast himself—and then took a quick shower. Heath was asleep and would be for hours more, because the sun was rising and his body would refuse to wake up unless there was a crisis of some sort. Bran got dressed, then peeked out from the living area’s windows so he wouldn’t let sunlight in where Heath was resting, and deemed the weather cold. Apparently the sunshine of the weekend had left things unbalanced or something and now autumn had rolled in fast. After breakfast, he left a note for Heath even though the vampire knew where Bran was going, and left the room, feeling quite good for a change. He hadn’t realized how much of a half life he’d been living while Heath wasn’t in his life. It had been like floating from one thing to another, going in one direction and then another but not quite feeling like he should. Bran got to the shelter at seven and went in to make breakfast for the human kids. Everyone seemed happy to have him around again. Samuel, their second nurse, came to help him with the cleanup while the kids were excused to get ready for whatever their plans were for the day. “I was on duty yesterday,” Samuel started to say as they loaded the massive dishwasher together. “Oh…?” Bran didn’t immediately catch what Samuel was trying to say. “I tended to LSD?”

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“Shit, sorry, how were they?” Bran put the glass from his hand on the table and leaned his hip into the counter, realizing he wasn’t sore at all anymore. It felt like the drunken woman had pushed him weeks ago, not just a few days. “Shaken to the core. They didn’t say much, but I could tell they’d seen some pretty bad stuff. I called Diana, she’s coming over for them later this evening.” Samuel took the glass and put it into the machine. “Good,” Bran said, thinking that Diana, a therapist who volunteered with them when necessary, was certainly someone they would need right now. “It was really bad—torture, death, and mayhem, and all they could do was to hide in a corner of the large room where it happened.” Bran shivered at the images floating to his mind. “Shit, that really is bad.” Samuel made a face and then put the machine on. “They were hungry, but I had to coax them to take the blood. Even the bags seemed to revolt them. I take it there was a lot of blood there?” “Blood, gore, body parts…. Vampires solving things like vampires do.” Bran tried to shrug it off, but Samuel quickly hugged him. “I’m sorry you had to witness it.” “Trust me, so am I. But Heath’s okay.” Bran smiled a little and stepped away from the embrace to take some juice from the fridge. “Oh, right, your mystery vampire. When do I get to meet him?” Samuel gave Bran a clean glass from the cupboard. “He should come by later, after sundown. He’s old, so he can’t really go out until dark.” “Right. One of the kids was explaining me that he came over and that he’s ‘like super old’.” Samuel made the last words sound like he was an enthusiastic teenager himself. Bran almost choked on the juice. “Geez, yeah, well, he is. Almost nine and a half centuries.” “Wow… that’s gotta be rare,” Samuel marveled. “Yeah, it is.” Bran nodded, but he couldn’t stop thinking that it was even more rare now that Lilith was gone.

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BRAN was getting a refill on his afternoon coffee when LSD finally surfaced. The kids looked better. Not good, but still, better. They hung out in the doorway and tried to silently communicate with each other. “How about you come to my office?” Bran said before they had time to come up with how to form their words. The trio followed him across the building to his office, and one of the boys closed the door behind them. Bran sat down and gestured for them to sit. They took the same places they had before, Lindy in the chair, boys on the couch. “So…,” he started, looking at each of the teenagers in turn. Nothing. “You do know there’s a therapist coming over later today to talk with you guys about what happened last night, right?” Bran asked into the silence. “Yeah, Samuel told us. It’s good…. We don’t mind. Just… I know it’s like… confidential, talking to a therapist but….” Lindy fiddled with the hem of her hoodie. “But?” Bran encouraged her. “She’s asking…,” Derek said and glanced at Simon by his side. “How much can we tell the therapist, you know, to be safe?” Simon concluded. “Oh… well, I don’t want you to stay quiet as a favor to me or the older vampires. You need to get over this. She’s a reliable therapist, does work for us all the time. Tell her whatever you want. If there’s something you don’t want to tell her, that’s okay too.” Bran smiled at them, hoping to look reassuring. “She….” Lindy was struggling; she hiccupped a little before going on, “Lilith, she wanted us to drink Heath’s blood,” the girl whispered. “What?” Bran frowned. “She thought it would make us stronger, but we didn’t want to, and she got mad at us. She got a couple of the older ones to drink from him, but… it was so wrong,” Lindy sobbed.

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The boys rose from the couch, went to her, and wrapped their arms around her shoulders from both sides. The caring made Bran feel all warm and fuzzy. “Do you guys think you’re in good enough control to go to your grandma’s? I know it’s soon, and you said you weren’t, but how about you talk to the therapist and set a goal or something? It might do you good to get there to be in the relative peace and quiet.” Bran spoke in a reassuring tone, hoping to plant the seed to make them really concentrate on getting to the point where they were in control of themselves, even when very hungry. These weren’t bad kids, they had just been dealt shitty cards. The whole deck might have been rotten, but hell if he didn’t like them and how they, just the three of them, had formed their own little family. “Yeah, we need to look into that. Thanks, man.” Derek nodded. “How’s Heath?” Simon asked, and then all of them were looking at him. “He’s just fine. He’ll probably come over tonight or some other evening when I’m working. He’s working on a cool shelter idea, by the way,” Bran said and began to explain it further.

THE next two weeks went by fast. Bran worked his shifts, slept a little, and then went to spend time with Heath. It wasn’t difficult to fall into a routine when both of them were in Atlanta. The evenings when Heath had to go to Savannah and other cities to work with the other older vampires as they really began to plan the shelters were difficult for Bran. To his surprise and delight, they weren’t easy for Heath, either. The vampire called to check in and chatted with him or just said good night if he was going to bed when the call came. It was nice, and it made Bran feel cared for. Heath was looking for houses, Bran knew that, and there was cautious talk of maybe moving in together after New Year’s. Bran knew Heath was just giving him time, because Heath was one of those people who knew when they wanted something and then grabbed it with both hands. Luckily, he also knew Bran wasn’t ready yet.

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To Bran’s surprise, Tadashi had called him one night while he was working. The vampire had been worried about him and had also convinced Bran that Lilith had been violent before. It just happened to culminate that night, when she met her “brother.” At the end of the call, Bran had told Tadashi to contact Heath too. Tadashi had understood that Heath needed to know everything Lilith had told him about their bastard of a sire. “It’s not an excuse, their sire being as he was, you know,” Bran had said to the Asian vampire. “No, it is not. But sometimes vampires turn out wrong. Maybe their sire was one of those vampires?” Tadashi asked him softly. Even though the question was rhetorical, something about the words made Bran ask a question of his own. “What do you mean, wrong?” “Eh, well, sometimes when a human is turned, the pain of the process shifts something within them. The death of the body warps the mind. Some vampires are put down immediately after they wake up for the first time. Or they should be put down by their makers.” Something in Tadashi’s tone hinted at a story, but Bran didn’t know him well enough to ask. The next time Bran went to see Heath after the conversation, Heath told him Tadashi had called him too. Bran was happy, because everything that brought Heath even a hint of peace was worth it and all good from Bran’s point of view. Logan had spent a few nights in Atlanta and then moved on to somewhere else. They had even gone to the movies once, on Bran’s evening off. It had been fun, and the last of any possible lingering doubts Bran might have had vanished when Logan, just before he’d stepped into a cab that would take him to the airport, had stated, “I won’t call you stepdad. You’re too young for that.” That had made it obvious that Logan wanted to stay in touch but also would not come between Bran and Heath. Things were finally looking up, and Bran couldn’t have been happier. Bran had promised to take part in the shelter’s celebration come Thanksgiving. It was, after all, the closest to a family gathering some of

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these kids had seen in years. They had a feast, the whole house was teeming with life, and everyone was happy as could be. A surprise donation Bran traced to Franco and Tadashi ensured that they had a proper Thanksgiving meal with everything possible, including fresh blood for the vampires (they had their dinner in the nurses’ quarters, though), and spirits were high. Because the kids could never decide on music, they had asked Amy to play the piano for them. The vampires had carried the piano upstairs a few days after Bran had his talk with Amy, and the girl had promised to play for them when they wanted her to. Carmen even took lessons from her now. Amy had turned out to be a witty, sarcastic girl with a big heart. They had contacted her aunt, and she was going to leave the shelter to live with her aunt’s family just in time for Christmas. But now it was Thanksgiving and she sat there, playing something vaguely familiar and classical for Sheila. They ate in turns. The shelter was full of kids, and some would end up sleeping on emergency beds on the floor. It was obvious that many of the kids were throwaways, and the number of them would only grow during the holiday season. Many kids came out at Thanksgiving dinner, and some of those young people would be thrown away like garbage. Trinity Shelter advertised some throughout the year, but they made sure their ads were everywhere from the end of the summer and through the winter months. Heath was coming home from Jacksonville at some point that night, the beginning of a “Florida tour” that had been cut short by the holidays. At least Bran hoped so. If Heath missed Thanksgiving, that was okay, because for Bran it wasn’t a family event in the usual sense, it was a shelter event. Would he have wanted his partner—boyfriend wasn’t a word he liked to use for what Heath was to him, mostly because of the vampire’s age—by his side? Sure. He always wanted Heath right there. There were occasional hitches, like possessiveness, and the fact that Tony was still waiting for the other shoe to drop when it came to Heath. Sometimes Bran didn’t trust Heath as much as he should, but that was fine too. Those things would come in time. But he still hated

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the fact that if he didn’t hear from Heath when either of them would be going to sleep soon, his heart ached and his brain tried to convince him that no, Heath was not going away, and he wasn’t dumping him, he was just busy. The kitchen and the dining room attached to it were full of teens, the second round of the evening. They were eating in shifts, and there was a third one coming before the staff could have their meals. Jenna was carrying a tray full of glasses that needed to be washed for the next shift of diners when she tripped over her own feet and the glasses went flying. The crash was loud and everyone quieted. “Holy fucking shit!” Jenna, usually less prone to cussing, exclaimed, and some of the youth giggled. “Anyone hurt?” Sheila called out from the living area. “Nope, we’re fine!” Jenna yelled, and Bran looked at the mess on the floor. “Erm… you clean that up, and I’ll go find more glasses from the storage room.” He grinned. At least he didn’t have to help out with the cleaning; after all, the glasses were in the perpetually messy storage room, and only he knew where they were. Or so he thought. Someone had moved them since he saw them the last time, and now the large box of plastic cups they kept for backup was on the shelf over the window. Great. Despite his height, he couldn’t reach them even if he stood on his toes, so he grabbed the stepladder from the side and placed it sideways in front of the window. That way he got closer to the box and at a better angle. He disliked heights, and for him a stepladder was just that, an uncertain way to make him step onto something potentially not very safe and, yes, high. Only three steps, only that much, but his knees were shaking, and he cursed, thinking he should get someone else there to do this for him. But his fingers could almost catch the edge of the box, and he wasn’t going to back down now. His knees shook, his arm trembled, and then he heard the ominous creaking sound as the step under his feet began to come apart.

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Trying to get down the wobbly ladder without losing his balance, Bran overdid it, and suddenly he felt the whole ladder tilt. He had time to see the window closing in on him, and then he crashed through the glass, only to be stopped by the narrow frame. He fell back on the floor, not quite comprehending what was happening. There was yelling, screams, panic. He could tell. It was almost funny how time seemed to slow down somehow, like everything stretched a little, and then suddenly time jumped and something else happened, but again in slow motion. “Shit, Bran….” “Call 911!” “Someone call Heath!” “He told me he didn’t want to be turned….” “But surely now that Heath’s back it’s a different situation?” “I can’t make that decision for him!” “Bran? Bran!” “Oh my God… this is really a lot of blood….” “… artery….” “… bleeding out….” “Feel… cold…,” Bran tried to say. It struck him funny, that apparently bleeding out really made you feel cold like that, just like in the movies. Then there was a different kind of pain, a familiar pain, and then darkness.

Part Four

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Chapter 13

THREE days after Thanksgiving. Heath sat in his new house, the one he’d closed the deal on a day before Thanksgiving but had yet to tell Bran about. He’d waited so long for this, to have a house where he could take Bran and maybe eventually make a family with him. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Not forced, not because they’d had no choice. Not because if Heath hadn’t done the only thing he could, he would have lost Bran forever. And now he waited. He wasn’t sure why Bran hadn’t woken up yet, but he assumed the blood loss that had almost killed Bran had been such a shock to his system that when Heath had done what he had to, Bran’s body had just closed down on itself. So there he sat, in the darkened master bedroom next to the bed where the love of his existence lay like he was dead. He knew what it was like, the feeling of burning on the inside, the pain of being turned. He hated to cause any kind of pain to Bran, but this couldn’t be helped. They’d been through too much for this to be the end, hadn’t they? He’d been on his way to the shelter when he got the call from one of the nurses—Heath would be thankful for the rest of his days for whoever decided that his number should be on the emergency contacts list in the kitchen—to hurry, and it had almost crushed him. The minute or two—quite literally, as he had been very close already—before he saw Bran on the floor, bleeding out, had been the worst minutes of his life. Or so he’d thought. It wasn’t until he’d had to make the decision to turn Bran that this hell he was in now had started. It was one thing to think about an eternity with Bran. After the episode with Lilith, he had thought about bringing up the subject of

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turning Bran at some point, but he just hadn’t had time. When he sat there, ordering everyone back and hoping he didn’t have to hurt any of the other vampires who might get excited about the overwhelming scent of blood, he’d cursed all possible deities for what he had to decide alone. It hadn’t been until he’d wavered between the decision for so long Sheila had slapped him in the face and told him to “fucking just do it or we lose him!” that he’d acted. Biting Bran for the last time to determine how little blood there was left was bad, but giving Bran the blood he would need for the turning process had made Heath a little sick to his stomach. He knew what he was doing, and sometimes knowledge brought pain instead of relief. He looked at Bran now, his body covered up to his armpits by a sheet, the bare skin of his shoulders and some of his chest showing the tattoos Heath had hated with vigor without knowing why exactly. It hadn’t been the tattoos; he knew that now. Lilith and Tadashi had put some pieces together for him, and he knew that this ink on Bran’s skin had nothing to do with why he hated the idea of tattoos. He didn’t hate Bran’s tattoos, after all. He hated his own sire. The vampire who had turned him—Lilith hadn’t known the name despite having met him in different circumstances than Heath had—had been tattooed from head to toe. She had no reason to lie; she didn’t know about his dislike of tattoos, after all. The worst thing about being captured had been knowing what was happening around him. Well, not when he was knocked out, but other times. Like he was truly a prisoner within his own body and he could only hope no harm would come to Bran. Especially when the killing had started and he had been too weak to do anything about it. Then Bran had been there and talking…. He didn’t remember the words, but he’d been scared that Lilith would turn her hatred on Bran. He hadn’t known, not for sure, that Tadashi and Franco had been on their side. His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden raspy gasp of breath from his side. Heath was immediately on alert. This was it: Bran was going to wake up.

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The gasp became a moan and then a whimper before Bran tried to breathe again. “It’s okay, I’m here, Bran. Breathe through the pain, okay? It will be difficult because you haven’t used your lungs in a few days, but you need to now.” Heath spoke quietly, moving closer to Bran, and placed his hand on Bran’s chest, which moved laboriously and which was now the same temperature as Heath’s. That would be something to get used to, for sure. Bran was clearly trying not to panic. It would hurt for a while, until his lungs returned to their automatic rhythm and got used to the motion again. “Wh-what?” Bran managed, looking up at Heath, who was leaning over him a little. “It was Thanksgiving. Do you remember that?” Heath asked. Bran thought for a while and then nodded. “Storage… room?” “Yes, you fell through the glass of the small window. You were bleeding out on the storage room floor. You would have died before the EMTs got there. You were just about gone when I got there….” Heath felt the pain of those last words like a fist tightening around his heart. Fuck, it had hurt, and it still did, the thought of losing Bran. “You turned me?” Bran croaked. “I couldn’t just let you die, not when Sheila said you didn’t want that…. I….” He choked up a little bit, and Bran’s fingers curled around his wrist suddenly. “’S okay…. Throat….” Bran frowned like he was looking for words. “You’re thirsty. I’ll get you a bag of blood. Need to get your strength up before you lose it.” Heath got up and moved as fast as he could to the kitchen and then back. He even took the time to heat the blood for a moment, and he brought it back on a tray with a few other items on it. Bran was sitting up in bed by then, frowning and looking around. “Where are we?” he asked. “This is my new house. It’s in Peachtree Heights.”

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“Oh… posh” was all Bran said before turning to look at the items on the tray. He sighed, looked hesitant, and then looked at Heath pleadingly. “Okay, so how do you want to do it? It will taste weird at first, it’s an echo from being human, but your body craves it, and the rest will follow as soon as you taste it,” Heath explained. “Mug, I think,” Bran said, and his nose twitched a little in either disgust or interest, Heath wasn’t sure. “All right.” Heath opened the blood bag and drained the contents into a heavy ceramic mug. He handed the mug to Bran, who took it, still looking adorably disgusted. Glancing at Heath, Bran raised the mug and sniffed at the blood. Three things happened in quick succession: Bran’s fangs lowered, they split his lip, and Bran startled so badly he nearly dropped the mug. “Holy shit!” he gasped, eyes wide with surprise. Heath chuckled and placed his hand under the mug to support it. “Yeah, let’s start with the fangs, then, eh?” Bran raised his hand to touch the fangs with his fingers. He looked to be in awe. Of course it was different to have touched Heath’s fangs; having a set of his own felt weird at first. Heath could still remember it. Bran licked his lips, tasting his own blood, and his eyes widened again. “Tastes good?” Heath asked, smiling a little. Bran merely grabbed a firmer hold of the mug and lifted it to his lips. His instincts did the rest. The first taste was met with a small frown; then he swallowed it and his starved body took over. He practically inhaled the first mugful, so Heath opened a second bag of blood for him. “More?” He raised a brow at Bran. “Mmm…,” Bran hummed, holding the mug out for a refill. “I made some contacts through Tadashi. He has a few donors he likes to use for special occasions, and he hooked us up. We’ll figure out what we’ll do later on. After all, I’ll need blood if I settle here for good,” Heath said while Bran drank until he was full.

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Heath took the tray back to the kitchen, at normal speed this time, and when he got back to the room, Bran wasn’t there. He stopped, feeling that his new childe, his lover, was close, and used his purest instincts to locate Bran. It was normal for two related vampires to orbit around each other, for a lack of better term. He felt both Bran and Logan within himself when they were close. Like invisible strings connecting them when they were nearby. This time he reached with his instincts and found Bran on the balcony. “I like it. There’s a nice amount of land around it,” Bran stated without turning around. It was evening, but they could see enough with their enhanced eyesight to be able to tell the details of the yard even from the distance. “Yeah, it’s close to your job but still has privacy.” Heath nodded, trying to make it casual that he had bought this house thinking they might eventually live there together. Bran said nothing at first. They just leaned against the railing together and enjoyed the night. It wasn’t cold. It would have been for human standards, but it wasn’t for a vampire. “I can feel you. When you went to the kitchen, there was this nudge inside me that told me where you were.” Bran turned to look at Heath. “That’s the bond, right?” “Yes, you’ll probably feel a much weaker one with Logan now too. You share my blood.” Bran turned to stare at the yard. “You do know I wouldn’t have turned you without asking first if there had been another way, don’t you?” Heath asked quietly. “I… I think so,” Bran said after a while. Maybe it was the best he could do right now. Heath was happy for even that. “If you wake up before me tomorrow, if it’s still light outside, try not to let the sunshine hit your eyes. It will hurt a lot. And direct sunlight doesn’t hurt, but it might make you feel uncomfortable.” “Are you lecturing me now?” The edge in Bran’s voice was unfamiliar and made Heath cautious.

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“No, not at all. Just… trying to spare you from pain, that’s all.” Heath needed to say one more thing. “And please… don’t go out without me, away from the house. It seems easy to resist the blood right now, but once there are humans around….” “I just want a shower and then to go to bed,” Bran said shortly, and Heath decided it was time to stop the lecturing.

HEATH woke up to something, a noise he couldn’t place. It was weird. By the time he was completely awake, he couldn’t hear it anymore. The curtains and blinds were down, but his body told him it was after sunset now. Safe to be awake. He had been tired, exhausted, really, when they went to bed very early this morning. Yet it had taken him ages to stop worrying enough to be able to fall asleep. He was still worrying, but he pulled on some black silk lounge pants and set out on a quest to find his lover. Bran was there, inside the house; he could tell. That was the only reason he wasn’t panicking yet. Following his instincts, Heath padded through the large Tudorstyle house—almost a mansion but not quite—to where their bond led. He finally came to what was meant to be a library. The door was open, and when Heath stepped in, he could see what the noise had been about. The room was trashed. The few books that had been on the shelves that covered the walls had been thrown around the room. They were everywhere. Small end tables had been toppled over; heavy satin curtains—something Heath hated anyway—had been pulled down and ripped apart. There were shards of porcelain in few spots; it looked like they might have once been vases. Heath was glad he hadn’t had any of his own things brought there yet. He didn’t have a reason to be pissed off because of this. But it did worry him that Bran was capable of something like this. It was so unlike the strong yet usually calm and kind man he had been as a human. But when someone was turned, things could go wrong sometimes. It was rare, but it happened.

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“You decided to redecorate?” Heath walked to the corner where Bran sat, looking surprisingly small and vulnerable. Bran had curled up to a ball. His face was hidden by his arms where they rested on top of his knees. Heath could feel the rolling emotions: anger, rage, fear, everything…. When Bran didn’t say anything, Heath crouched in front of Bran but didn’t touch him. “Do you know why you’re this angry?” he asked quietly, half waiting for the man to blow up like the hurricane he must have been while trashing the room. To his surprise, Bran raised his head, looked at him, and seemed almost baffled for a moment. “No… I didn’t even…. How did you know I might not know?” Bran blinked rapidly a few times. “Because this can happen. Not everyone goes through the change easily. Some people change in the mind too, not just in the body,” Heath said, still not quite sure if he should get closer or step away altogether. “It’s like this… this being inside me.” Bran’s tone was slightly desperate. Then he suddenly said, “Your gardener came by to check on some things.” “Oh….” Heath had no idea where this was going. There was a fifty-fifty chance that the gardener was now buried somewhere in the garden instead of at home having dinner with his family. He hadn’t met the man, but the real estate agent had filled him in. “He didn’t realize I was a… a vampire. I just stood there while he explained what he was here to do. I could hear his heartbeat, smell where he had cut his finger this morning….” Bran’s expression changed from one emotion to another while he spoke. “And all I could think was that I was glad I already found your blood stash and had some, and that it was surprisingly easy not to give in to the hunger. I expected to want to rip his throat out, but I could even force my fangs back when I concentrated on it. I didn’t hurt him.” The awe was clear in Bran’s tone. Heath was about to speak when Bran continued, “And then I came here, inside the house, walked around the place, and suddenly something came over me and….” He gestured around the trashed room.

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“Like I couldn’t control the anger and it had to come out somewhere….” Heath noticed the slight vibrating of Bran’s body before the young vampire realized he was going to go off again. “I was never violent, not at all…. Never broke anything on purpose like this, and now I’m this completely different person and—” Bran got up from the corner and suddenly another end table went flying through the room. Heath went to stand by the wall, leaned against it, and watched Bran destroy the rest of the room. Heath was fascinated by the movement of the still lean but now much stronger muscles as Bran threw a fake-antique couch with an impressive roar. His eyes were wild, and the dark stubble on his face made him look somehow even wilder, more out of control. In five minutes, the room had nothing left to trash. Everything was in pieces. It looked like a mockery of those images you saw online, the ones where an owner came home to see the new puppy had destroyed a room. The thought made Heath snort before he could hold it back. Bran’s dark-brown eyes were deadly when they fixed on Heath. The unspoken “are you laughing at me?” was heavy between them. The gaze roaming over Heath’s body went from bare rage to something between rage and lust. Heath could feel the desire rolling through their bond. “Oh, right… vampire sex.” Heath smirked and braced himself. Bran couldn’t really hurt him, and he needed a distraction tactic before the whole house got trashed. Bran pounced, almost startling himself with the sudden movement, Heath could tell. And then Heath’s arms were full of a growling newborn vampire who was going for his jugular. Interesting. “Stop.” Heath used his most authoritative voice, and somehow it was enough to penetrate the lust-filled haze Bran was in. Immediately Bran raised his head from where he had been about to press his mouth against Heath’s neck.

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“I want to have you, give you my blood, and take yours, make us even closer, but not here. Not like this. Bedroom,” Heath said firmly, and at first it looked like Bran would comply. Then: “No. Here.” The dark eyes flashed dangerously. “Fine,” Heath said in the same dark tone and grabbed Bran, pushed him against the wall, and kissed him violently. Finally, after all the times they had kissed, had made love, fucked, had sex, Heath didn’t have to hold back. There was nothing fragile about the young man who kissed him, their fangs clashing, lips and tongues bleeding when they were cut. The blood mixed between them and caused the hunger they always had for each other to multiply because of their new bond. Bran ripped their clothes off, and the shreds of silk from Heath’s pants and cotton from Bran’s pajama pants and T-shirt joined everything else on the floor. Heath cupped Bran’s ass in his hands and lifted him, then pushed him back against the wall when Bran wrapped his legs around Heath’s waist. “Fuck me! Now!” Bran growled, squeezing him closer and clawing at his shoulders. Heath wanted say that he wouldn’t hurt his lover, not even like this, but it would only be a short burn. They healed so fast, and he had a feeling Bran would do something desperate soon if he didn’t comply. He gathered saliva in his mouth, spat into his hand, and then rubbed it over his erection, deciding that it would have to do for now. With a firm hold of Bran’s wriggling body with one hand and holding his own cock with the other, he pushed into his lover, once again grieving the loss of that scorching heat he still associated with Bran. But then there was just the bond and the love and the anger that washed over him too, an echo of Bran’s. It wasn’t having sex or making love or even fucking. No, it was something way more primitive and carnal, something they did to get off and calm Bran and reassure Heath that he hadn’t lost all of the Bran he knew. When Bran went for his neck again, Heath said, “No. I go first. It’s my prerogative.”

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Bran groaned—at the rapid thrust of Heath’s hips, the pleasure coursing through him, and the fact that he had to hold back on something, anything, right at that moment. Heath bit Bran quickly, causing pain as much as pleasure because he chose to do so, and took a few deep pulls of his blood. The taste filling his mouth was exquisite, different and almost better than when Bran was still human. The blood had Heath’s own taste in it, their essences mixing and forming something new, the blood that belonged to Bran the vampire. After forcing himself to release the bite, Heath tilted his head to give Bran room. “No one has done this in a long time, not even Logan,” he said, and something in Bran’s frenzied expression shifted. He seemed to realize this was different from anything Heath had done before. Instead of doing the obvious and sinking his fangs into Heath’s neck, Bran kissed him almost gently—at least compared to the first kisses—and then traced openmouthed kisses to his jaw and neck, sucking blood to the surface for the seconds it would stick before healing. “It’s good that you’re the first person I’ll ever bite,” Bran murmured. “It feels right.” And then he bit, the brand-new fangs pushing through Heath’s neck on his pulse point, drew back a little to give the blood room to run freely, and then the suction…. Heath groaned at the pleasure rolling through his whole being. Not just his body but his mind and his heart, and hell, if vampires had souls, then that too. He hadn’t felt this close to anyone, ever. If there had ever been a lingering doubt that Bran was it for him, there was none now. He was connected to this man, this vampire, for the rest of his days, and a life without him just wouldn’t do. While Bran drank his fill, Heath kept moving his hips, fucking his lover steadily and then more and more quickly, never losing the rhythm, never changing the angle. Not until Bran pulled back his fangs and clung to him like a vine. Heath moved his hand down, wrapped his fingers around Bran’s cock, and brought him to his climax so fast Heath couldn’t help his

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own, when everything lined up and the spasming body around his cock pushed him over too. Heath leaned against Bran, waiting for his breath to calm down again, not quite ready to let go of Bran yet. “Fuck, that was good…,” Bran murmured against his neck, his strong body feeling calm and pliant in Heath’s arms. “We can do that every time you lose it. Just try not to destroy the whole house.” Heath chuckled and kissed Bran’s shoulder gently. “Tudor, eh? Got homesick or something?” Bran asked as he finally let his legs fall from around Heath and they began to separate. “I had a house that looked a lot like this. Sometime in the sixteenth century, I think. I liked it, so since I was shopping….” Heath shrugged. “Yeah, because everyone shops for houses instead of, say, clothes.” Bran grinned. “Let’s go shower. I want some blood, and you should have some more too. It’s important in the beginning.” “I know, Daddy.” Bran smirked, knowing it grated on Heath’s nerves when Logan called him that, and sprinted out of the room before Heath could slap his bottom.

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ABOUT a week into Bran’s life as a vampire, the calls from Bran’s friends began to grate on Heath’s and Bran’s nerves. It was like the other men in Bran’s life didn’t believe them when they said Bran was okay, just settling in to the new rules and practicalities. So, eventually, they gave in and asked all four of them—Ric, Kris, Tony, and Adam—over to dinner. Of course it would be food from a restaurant that delivered, since Heath couldn’t really cook—he had never had the need to learn—and Bran just didn’t want anything to do with human food until the nausea from being close to it passed. It was December, and the weather had been quite mild, given the season. Bran’s mood swings had calmed down too, but he still had a few of them each day, and they were hard on Heath. Something about not knowing what would set his lover off was worse than if he’d been constantly in a bad mood. Bran had decided to make use of the in-house gym when his mood rocketed from calm to hurricane. Not that the bodybuilding did anything for him; he was in a state of stasis like any other vampire was, but it was something he didn’t have to be careful with, and eventually it made him feel echoes of the tiredness he had felt as a human after a good workout. Heath kept away from that part of the house when he heard the gym door slam shut. No reason to be in the way. They had a lot of sex—it seemed to be the other thing that calmed Bran down, and even though it was anything from wild to loving, sometimes it was almost too much, and not in a good way. Bran kept pushing him more and

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more each time, and Heath was afraid eventually one of them would get hurt. The evening the guys were coming to dinner was less tense than the previous night had been. Both Heath and Bran dressed up a little for the occasion; it was good to be polite, after all. Heath was in the kitchen, making sure that the food stayed warm for their human guests while Bran handled some of the shelter’s business via phone and e-mail. That seemed to be the safest way to go, and they planned on waiting until Bran’s mood swings calmed down before he went back to work. The buzzer let Heath know the guys were at the gates. He went to the hall and pressed the button for the intercom. “Evening, everyone,” he said to the microphone. “Good evening,” Ric said, and Heath pressed another button, this time to let them in. The gates opened and closed behind Ric’s car. The driveway wasn’t that long, so they parked the car and got out just as Heath got the front door open for them. Ric looked thoughtful, not nervous or hesitant. Kris was his usual bubbly self, it seemed. Heath had spoken on the phone with the young human a few times since Thanksgiving, and it appeared that Kris was the most levelheaded of the four men walking up the steps to the house. Kris was the voice of reason when the others didn’t seem to care at all if Bran was in control of his bloodlust before they came to see him. It was also best that Heath spoke with Kris about things, and then Kris in turn gave details to the others. Heath had tried to talk with both Adam and Ric without much success. Ric was too fast to accuse Heath of things he hadn’t done, and Heath didn’t know Adam well enough for them to have real conversations. And Tony… well, Tony was still a wild card. Heath greeted everyone in turn and let his senses tell him the mood each of the men was in. Tony was tense, ready to attack, if needed. Adam was his easygoing self, but he was clearly worried about Tony’s behavior. “Bran is still on the phone with Sheila, but he should be right back. Wine, anyone?” Heath asked, leading the men to the living room.

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They were looking around curiously, taking in the details and layout of the house. “Yes, thank you.” Ric gave Heath a polite smile, and then everyone else wanted some as well. Luckily, Heath had taken the time to learn about wines. He might not want to drink it anymore—technically he could, though he didn’t care for it—but he knew a good wine when he saw one, or smelled one, really. “I’ll be right back,” he said and retreated to the kitchen. With a bottle of good red and four crystal glasses in his other hand, he walked back to the living room. “Here you go,” Heath said and poured each of them some cabernet sauvignon. The atmosphere had started to become tense and quiet when Bran finally walked into the room. “Sorry. Sheila had some problems with one of the funders, and I needed to sort it out,” Bran said, looking at their guests and clearly scoping the way he felt in a room full of humans. Well, it wasn’t the humans that caused potential trouble, it was the heartbeats and the blood sloshing through their veins. Kris moved to get up from the couch where he sat but then stopped himself to ask, “Can I…. How difficult is this for you?” There was no way to be politically correct in this, and everyone seemed to understand that. “You’re asking me if I’ll snap and rip your throat open if you come and give me a hug?” Bran’s smile was crooked, slightly predatory, and there was a hint of fangs showing. “Holy shit!” Tony gasped at the same time that Kris grinned and said, “Pretty much.” “If Heath comes closer for safety, then I don’t see a reason for you to be all the way over there.” Bran shrugged, but Heath could tell he was a little bit uncertain. Heath moved to stand behind Bran, both supporting and guarding him so that there was no way anything bad could happen. He would toss Bran across the room before he could do any damage to his human friends.

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Kris got up, despite Ric’s nervous glances, and walked over to Bran. He stepped into Bran’s embrace hesitantly but nevertheless hugged him properly, even if just for a short time, and then stepped back. While Kris retreated back to Ric’s side, Tony walked closer to them. He had been standing on the far side of the room, by the windows, clearly assessing the situation. “So. Fangs, eh?” Tony asked, ignoring Heath completely. “Yeah, appears so….” Bran gave his best friend a small smile, and then the two men were hugging each other tightly. “Don’t ever fucking scare me like that again!” Tony’s voice was fierce. “Fine, I won’t. But you need to let go of me because you smell awfully nice,” Bran said, his voice getting a bit tight. Heath placed his hand on the small of Bran’s back to calm him down. “That’s not what you said after the last time we went clubbing….” Tony wiggled his eyebrows at Bran, who chuckled. Something about Adam’s posture changed subtly, and somehow Heath could tell he hadn’t known about the last time Tony and Bran had ended up in bed together. Heath, on the other hand, had known; Bran had pretty much told him during pillow talk at some point. The guys hadn’t fucked, but they had done pretty much everything else that night. Bran had explained that it had felt wrong to even consider having sex with Tony at that point; after all, he’d had his little talk with Adam right before. But boys were boys, Heath thought, and with the history Bran and Tony shared, it wasn’t likely they would’ve been able to keep their hands to themselves that night. In general it wasn’t a nice idea that Bran had fucked four of the five men in the room, but then again, Heath wasn’t a prude or a monk either. “See, I told you he was okay,” Kris piped up. He was cuddled next to Ric, sipping his wine. “Yeah, he’s lively for a technically dead guy, isn’t he?” Tony asked, smiling widely at Bran. Adam twitched again, just a little, but it was there.

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“Guys, there’s dinner in the kitchen, and I’m going to need a hand. Any volunteers?” Heath asked, but he looked straight at Adam. Adam got up. “Sure, I’ll help you out.” “The rest of you, stay away from the baby vamp for a while.” Heath smirked at the others. “Ha ha.” Bran rolled his eyes and went to sit in the armchair farthest away from the sofas the others were sitting on. Heath and Adam walked into the kitchen, and Heath divided the tasks between them. Heath dove into the conversation headfirst. “So, I noticed you just heard about the two of them hooking up that night you and Bran had the talk about Tony.” “Uh….” Adam glanced at him before opening another bottle of wine for dinner. “We talk about everything, and you guys are really important to Bran. I’m not trying to mess with you or anything. It’s just… Bran doesn’t necessarily see things like others do sometimes. He’s more… free with his affections.” Heath tried to form the sentences that might make a difference. Adam snorted. “I’ve noticed. It’s like… he’s not slutty or anything, he just….” “They didn’t fuck that night. Everything else, sure, but not that. He wouldn’t fuck with an existing relationship, and he held back because he knew how you felt about Tony. He and Tony have a friendship that’s a lot deeper than we think. It’s like their relationship is even deeper than Bran and Cedric’s, you know. At this point in my life, unlife, whatever you want to call it,” Heath said, smiling, “I am not worried about Ric. He has Kris. But Tony…. My theory is that you and I both should be a little worried about them.” “So you’re saying you think they might….” Adam raised his brows a little. “No, absolutely not. I don’t think they would. But they might. In some ways, they’ll always be closer to each other than anyone else. Even with my new bond with Bran,” Heath said, knowing it to be absolutely true. “Oh…,” Adam said thoughtfully.

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“It’s not something I worry about, it’s just something that’s a reality, a vague possibility.” “So you’re saying they might hook up in the same way I might get hit by a car doing my grocery run?” Adam’s eyes were twinkling with amusement. Heath grinned. “Pretty much.” They went to set the table for the humans and made sure there was space for the vampires around the large dining table as well. Once everyone was seated, the normal dinnertime chatter started. Well, almost normal…. “You’re not going to pull out a blood bag and snack or anything, are you?” Tony asked Bran while cutting into a steak that looked good even to Heath. “No, sorry. I can go put some in a wine glass or a mug if you want me to and sip away,” Bran said cheekily. “Please don’t,” Ric commented, but he was smiling a little too. “This is excellent wine. Where did you find it?” Kris asked Heath. “I have a friend, she’s a vampire and a doctor, practices and everything, but she likes wines. With our sense of taste, it’s really easy to pick wines in a different way than humans do. She suggested some wines that might work with certain foods in case I ever entertained humans,” Heath explained, leaning back in his chair. Adam and Kris moved on to talking about football, and Tony and Bran talked about going clubbing at some point, with Heath and Adam, obviously. Since it was Ric and Heath who were left, they began to talk about business. “From what I gather, you do a lot of charity work?” Heath asked, knowing that Ric was considered a philanthropist in the Atlanta area. “Yes,” Ric said. He took a sip of his wine and then he cleared his throat. “I do a lot of stuff promoting the shelter, the nearby youth center as well. I heard something about vampire-founded youth shelters you and some others were planning on?” The human took another bite of his dinner while Heath explained his plans. The conversation flowed naturally from there, and soon they were discussing plans, and even though it had been decided that only

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vampire money would be used in the chain of shelters—after all, there was a lot of that around—Ric had some valid points from the perspective of someone who had helped Trinity Shelter along the way. Once the humans were done with their meal, Ric and Tony insisted on clearing the table, while Kris and Adam wanted to see the pool in the backyard. “It’s heated?” Kris asked enthusiastically. “Yes. Costs a fortune, but it’s a luxury I really like having. It doesn’t make much of a difference. I mean, it could be freezing for you and just feel cold to us, but as I said, I like it.” Heath smiled a little as they walked around the pool, Bran right next to him. “Would it be possible for us to come swim sometimes? I mean, it’s a great pool, and it would be nice to see you guys more. There is a pool in the building we live in, but it feels more like a public pool, if you know what I mean?” Kris wrinkled his nose a little. The boy was young and adorable, but also clearly an old soul. No wonder Ric loved him so much. “Absolutely. It might be good to have Bran be around you guys a bit more before he goes back to work. The teenagers, with their emotions…. Let’s say their emotions might not be the best kind of environment right now,” Heath said, feeling a sort of a small tug in the bond between himself and Bran. “Oh, right. Well, it would be great. Adam, you said you wanted to start swimming again…?” Kris turned his attention to Adam, who nodded. “Sure, why not. It would be great to see you guys more, and if that helps Bran too, all the better.” The door to the kitchen opened, and Ric and Tony walked out, laughing at something. Tony went to wrap his arm around Adam’s waist, and Ric was greeted with a kiss from Kris. “Feels like you’re freezing,” Ric murmured against Kris’s neck. Kris frowned. “Yeah, forgot to take my coat.” “Something you two don’t have to worry about.” Tony grinned at Heath and Bran. Heath wasn’t sure what happened, what it was that set Bran off, but something did. He felt a jolt of aggression through the bond.

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“Guys, I think it’s time for you to leave,” he said while walking swiftly toward Bran. The humans looked confused, but when Heath wrapped his arms around Bran and held on tight from the behind, they understood. “Shit, okay, let’s go, guys,” Ric said and began to usher them back inside to get their coats. By the time they were opening the door, Bran was vibrating with tension and trying to hold back. He was cursing under his breath, trying to fight the beast within. “Come on, not long now. As soon as we hear the car start, I’ll let you go. You won’t hurt them. I won’t let you hurt your friends, love,” Heath said quietly and calmly. They could hear the humans moving toward the front door inside the house. It was all good until someone’s words drifted through the door Kris hadn’t yet shut behind himself. “… mood swings, but I never realized….” It was just that split second, when Heath’s total concentration slipped from Bran, the young vampire roared, tore himself from Heath’s arms, launched through the doors, and went completely berserk. Heath moved fast. He yelled at the humans to get out as he dashed after Bran, and got there just in time to place himself between the front door and Bran, who was on a mission. The look on Bran’s face was completely alien to Heath. He’d seen it on other vampires, but he’d never expected to see it on Bran. At that moment, there was no Bran, only a young vampire in the throes of frenzied bloodlust. “Get out now!” Heath yelled through the closing front door, and moved by sheer instinct. He reached to push the button to open the gates for Ric’s car and moved his other hand straight for Bran, wrapping his fingers around Bran’s throat when Heath’s normally calm and collected lover struggled to get to his best friends, to rip them to pieces. Bran snarled at him, never taking his eyes off his goal: the front door. With a controlled movement, Heath grabbed Bran’s arm and used

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that and the hold he had on Bran’s throat to propel the young vampire into the air, across the hall, and straight into the living room. The sound of a car accelerating through the gates calmed Heath a little. He lowered his stance into a half crouch and waited for the moment when Bran came barreling through the hall again. He thrust his hands toward Bran, palms against his chest to throw him off again. “Bran! They’re gone! Snap out of it or I’ll have to hurt you for real!” Heath yelled at his lover, who was running back toward him. This time he didn’t push Bran away; instead he wrapped his arms around the lean body to keep his arms against his sides. Heath was efficiently restricting movement and forcing Bran to listen at the same time. The snarling and snapping of teeth—fangs included—lasted for a few more minutes. They stood there like that in the middle of the fancy hall of Heath’s fancy new home, and just waited it out. As soon as Bran quieted and relaxed, Heath loosened his grip a little. “Coming back now?” he asked, tilting his head back to look at the suddenly exhausted young male in his arms. It was all mental exhaustion. The switch between vampire and echoes of human, between rage and calm, took energy. Even though Bran couldn’t be exhausted physically unless he was bleeding out, his mind could still be worked over in many ways, forced to submit. Heath led Bran into the living room, to one of the luxurious leather couches, and pulled the younger male onto his lap like a child who’d had a tantrum. “I’m sorry…,” Bran breathed, pressing his face to Heath’s neck. “It’s hardly all right, but it’s not something you can help yet,” Heath said to comfort him. “That’s why I’m here. That’s why you have to listen to me when I tell you what to do. It’s for everyone’s safety.” “You shouldn’t have to do this…. Nobody should…. This isn’t me.” The last bit came out as a trembling almost sob. “I will do this as long as it’s needed of me. Because I love you, because I’m your sire now, not just your lover. You’re my responsibility in a way you’d have never been as a human.”

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“But I don’t want that.” Bran sounded tired and exasperated. “I know. But these are the cards that we have to play with.” Heath sighed, stroking Bran’s hair and scraping his scalp with his fingernails in a way that usually comforted him. The rest of the night passed peacefully, and eventually Bran gathered enough courage to send text messages to his friends to tell them he’d call the next day. After all, it was way past normal human bedtime by then. The next afternoon, when Heath woke up, Bran informed him that he had called each of the guys separately, and they had all agreed to take things slow from now on. “It was my decision. They would be ready to come by as soon as we give them the word. I didn’t want that, though. I don’t want to have to be careful with them.” Bran’s expression was so forlorn that Heath just took him into his arms and sat with him for a while. “If there was another way to do this other than time….” Heath sighed. The words he didn’t say lingered in his mind: I wish I hadn’t needed to do this. I wish this wasn’t alienating you from your friends. In the end there was only one thing to say: “I love you and I’m here for you, whatever you need.”

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THE pieces of Bran’s new life began to fall into place slowly but surely. He couldn’t go to work, but he worked as much as he could from the house. He was pissed off, Heath could tell, but he was also beginning to realize the degree of work he had in front of him before he could return to his place in society. The holidays came and went. Neither of them had much Christmas spirit, anyway. When Heath asked about New Year’s, Bran told him he wanted to stay at home, and if any of the guys asked—they did, eventually—there wouldn’t be a party. Not at the house, nor would they go anywhere. “I’m just not ready. So if they plan on something, a surprise or anything like that, can you make sure….” Bran trailed off like he did a lot these days, and Heath promised that he didn’t need to be around anyone he didn’t want to be when the year changed. There were cautious calls from the guys. They missed Bran as much as Bran missed them, but Heath knew only Bran could tell when he was ready. Any hesitance would feed the insecurity, which in turn would make any newborn vampire volatile. What he needed was certainty. On December 31, in the early afternoon, when Heath had just woken up, the doorbell rang. Not the bell at the gates, but the one at the front door. Bran, who was having his liquid breakfast in the kitchen, called out to Heath that he’d open the door before Heath had time to tell him not to. The gates were always closed in the early morning when they

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went to sleep, and none of the maintenance people they used for the house and surroundings were on duty. He dashed down the stairs and then came to a halt in the hall. “Happy New Year, Dad.” The cheeky grin on Logan’s face was certainly a nice thing to see, even though the boy himself was mostly just annoying. “Look who dropped by.” Bran grinned at Heath, making the resemblance between the two young vampires so striking for a moment that Heath could only stare. He didn’t ask how Logan was suddenly there or how he even knew where Heath’s new house was. Every time Logan wanted to find him, he did. “This is a pleasant surprise,” Heath said honestly. He walked over to his boys and hugged Logan briefly. “I wasn’t sure,” Logan murmured into his neck. “It’s always nice, you know that. In small doses….” Heath chuckled as he let Logan go. “So, it looks like we’re having a little party anyway!” Bran said, sounding almost excited, and Heath wondered where the night would lead them. He went to the kitchen to get his own breakfast and listened to the others chatting in the living room. They were getting along fine, but when Logan began to tease Bran about the whole “baby vampire” thing, Heath tensed. “You’ve been new too, but at least I’m special,” Heath heard Bran say. He snorted a little. Maybe Logan would be helpful after all. At least Bran would have some peer support for however long Logan was going to stick around. “Heath? I’m going to go find a room for Logan,” Bran called from the doorway, and Heath waved his hand dismissively. “Go on, then,” he mumbled. Then he clicked on an article in the online newspaper and continued reading.

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After he had read two of his regular newspapers and replied to a lot of e-mails, he realized there hadn’t been a peep from the younger males since they went on their quest to find an intact guest room for Logan. Curious, Heath took his long-empty mug to the sink and rinsed the remnants of the blood he’d had off it. Taking the necessary steps into the hall, he listened carefully. Nothing. They weren’t close, then. He tried to feel around for the boys, waiting for the nudge from the double bond, and when he got it, he smiled and made his way upstairs. While walking past the bedroom he and Bran used and two other rooms, he heard a shuffling noise and some quiet words. Moving quietly, he went to peer into the room in question. “This is interesting…,” Logan almost purred, having pinned Bran to the wall by the nice big bed. “Logan, honestly…,” Bran said, his expression contemplative. He wasn’t rejecting Logan’s advances, though, and that was what made Heath freeze. “Oh, come on, what’s a little vampire incest between brothers….” Logan raised his hand to trail his fingertips along the ink on Bran’s neck and shoulder, as much as there was visible under his tank top. “I’m not a cheat—” Bran managed before Logan shut him up with a kiss. Heath stared at the two vampires he had created. His emotions were torn; part of him wanted to tear Logan away from Bran and toss him out. Another part was contemplating joining in, because the sight was so arousing. But the reasonable part of him, the old and wise part, crushed the others—for now—and he looked at the young vampires objectively. Not only was there the question about wanting sex a lot and being easily turned on when you were freshly turned, but there was also the bond. The fact was that the blood both Logan and Bran had gotten from Heath when they were turned would affect them in ways most humans wouldn’t understand. The pull was there; vampire blood called to itself,

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and what Logan had just called vampire incest wasn’t actually odd at all. He stepped into the room, moving so that his steps made a noise. It was enough to startle the rutting pair. “Seriously, Logan?” Heath quirked a brow at his older childe. Bran scrambled away from Logan, ready to explain, even though his sweatpants had been tented by his erection. Heath looked at Bran and shook his head a little. “This wasn’t what I planned for the night, but….” He shrugged. Bran opened his mouth, then closed it with a snap. “If you want to play, you’re allowed. I can’t tell you not to. Or I could, but that would only lead to trouble. Why don’t you have some fun while I go and watch some TV?” Heath said, stepping toward the door again. Logan reached for Bran, who dodged his hand and closed the distance between himself and Heath. “Wait.” Bran took Heath’s hand and glanced at Logan. “You, stay.” Logan went to plop on the bed and let out a small “woof” as Bran pulled Heath out the door and to their bedroom. Heath went to sit on the edge of their bed and looked up at Bran. It seemed like neither of them knew what to say, where to start. “Look, I know there’s a pull between you two,” Heath sighed finally, after minutes of complete silence. “It’s not an excuse…,” Bran murmured and shuffled closer to the bed. “No, but it’s a reality. I feel it between me and him too.” Bran stopped between Heath’s thighs and stood there for a moment. “I guess… I don’t really want anyone else, you know?” he said hesitantly. “Sure, I sort of miss Tony and even Ric and Kris; we all had fun together. But when I have you, it’s all I need, you know?” Heath, despite the jealousy pinching his heart at the mention of Bran’s former sex life, nodded. “I know, love. I do. I’m not jealous of Logan.” That was the truth, at least at the moment.

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“So what you said there, it’s not some sort of…. You’re not saying it because you think you need to give me permission to….” “No, it’s because I don’t want you to hold back with him if you don’t want to. I’m not afraid of your relationship, Bran.” Heath smiled. “He’s the safe choice, he’s the one you’re programmed to want now. You didn’t before, right?” Bran thought for a moment, then grinned. “Well, I thought it was sort of weird that he looks like me, but that was it. He’s attractive, but only now… yeah.” “Then if you want him, you’re free to do whatever you want. But he’s the only exception.” Heath wrapped his arms around Bran’s waist and was rewarded with a kiss. “Okay, but I won’t do it without you.” “Basically, what dear brother here is saying is that we’ll be having a nice little New Year’s party with the three of us….” Logan smirked from the doorway he’d snuck to at some point. “Told you to stay.” Bran glanced at his “brother.” “I’m not very good at following the rules,” Logan sighed theatrically. “I can vouch for that,” Heath piped up. “Don’t they say that whatever you do when the year changes is what you’ll be doing the rest of the year?” Bran asked, looking from Logan to Heath. “Yeah, why?” Heath asked, his fingers still rubbing circles on Bran’s skin under his top. “Well, just to be sure, we can’t be fucking each other when the year changes. I won’t be able to stand him for a whole year….” Bran smiled sweetly, and Heath laughed out loud.

THE evening progressed with less fucking that Heath had anticipated. Actually, the younger males behaved quite nicely and were civilized as they sat in the living room and swapped gossip.

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“You know Celeste misses you,” Logan said to Heath when he came back from the kitchen, where he had heated a glass of blood for himself. “Oh?” Heath asked from where he was sitting on the couch, with Bran leaning against his side. “Yeah, she keeps complaining to me that you need to go back home or invite her to visit here.” “So basically she doesn’t want to invite herself?” Heath chuckled. “I mean, she knows this is where I live now, even though I still need to move stuff and such.” “Pretty much. I told her that—” Heath’s cell phone vibrated on the coffee table, and Bran reached for it, since he was basically lounging halfway on top of Heath and could reach it better, and then handed it to Heath. “Happy yet-another-year, Tadashi-san,” Heath said into the phone, smiling a little. “Happy New Year to you and yours, Heath.” Tadashi’s voice was firm and somewhat warm. “How can I help you?” Heath asked, reaching for Bran’s hand and then entwining their fingers absently. “I was wondering… I think I need to get Franco away from the building tonight. He’s not ready for crowds, and I wondered if you were still going to stay in with Brandon?” Tadashi sounded almost apologetic for asking. “Oh, well, my other fledgling, Logan, came by too, so it’s now three of us here, but you two are more than welcome.” Heath let his smile be heard in his tone. Logan perked up on the other couch. He was always into meeting new people, and he’d heard a lot about Tadashi and Franco already. “Are you sure?” Tadashi asked quietly. “Absolutely,” Heath said. Bran turned his head to say toward the phone, “Yes, Tadashi, please do come over. The more the merrier.”

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Tadashi chuckled a little. “All right, we’ll be there once I get the big boss into the car.” “Excellent. We’ll see you soon,” Heath said and disconnected the call. “So, are the guys hot? Is there a chance of an orgy?” Logan grinned in a very devilish manner. “I don’t think so….” Heath shook his head, feeling a little exasperated. “Who knows!” Bran’s take on it was much brighter. Whatever it took to get Bran over the holiday slump he’d been in. Heath had become friends with Tadashi, and they had talked a lot about Franco and the depression he’d fallen into during the holidays without Lilith by his side. All four of them agreed that it was better that Lilith had chosen the honorable way to end her existence, though Heath knew Bran was still somewhat sad that a vampire as old as she was now gone. Heath had seen much more life and vampires than Bran had, so he knew all the different possibilities. It could have ended so much worse. He’d seen Elder vampires go mad or go so cold they just didn’t care about anyone or anything but their bloodlust and the rush of the kill. Lilith had shown the makings of sliding into both. She had been the type of Elder vampire who might have gone on a rampage and destroyed a lot of humans before anyone could take her down for good. She had probably known that herself and had reached for another kind of ending in her possibly very last moments of clarity. Heath had forgiven her, if for no other reason than because they shared blood. They had been made, turned, by the same bastard who had raped her after approaching her some days before the siege. She’d been walking home from a friend’s house after sundown. She hadn’t had a choice when he’d forced himself on her and then decided to turn her, in his own words, because she had beautiful eyes. While cutting into Heath’s already almost drained body, she had hissed at him that after she’d woken up a vampire, she’d wanted to gouge her eyes out. He could understand. After all, what the vampire had done to him was similar, even though Heath hadn’t been raped. But he’d felt the malice, felt the sick, twisted way their maker had been shaking as he’d

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laughed at Heath while holding him, moments before he was drained to death. At some point he must have seen the tattoos, maybe flashes when he was first knocked out, and his irrational dislike of inked skin had been born, much like Heath the vampire. “He zoned out again.” Logan’s voice penetrated the memories, and Heath shot a look at his first childe. “Yes, I did, and if you had as much history behind you as I do, you might get lost in your memories as well,” Heath said sharply. “We were talking about Franco, how he’s doing,” Bran said in a tone clearly meant to calm Heath, as did his touch. The way Bran combed Heath’s short hair with his fingers felt good, and he sighed a little, knowing he was too easy. Again. “Tadashi says it’s been tricky for Franco. He spent over two and a half centuries with Lilith. You don’t forget that kind of bond easily, and apparently they did the ‘family thing’ during the holidays each year.” Heath sighed. “I would guess he’s feeling alone, despite having Tadashi there and the younger vampires being around.” “I can’t imagine being with someone that long,” Logan said, sipping blood that must’ve been cold by now. Heath wasn’t sure if the slight frown was from the thought of long relationships or the temperature of his drink. “I can,” Heath said and smiled a little. Logan made a gagging sound, and Bran chuckled, burrowing closer to Heath. They sat in silence for a while, just enjoying the extremely quiet music floating from the surround-sound system Bran had insisted on. It was Bran’s playlist, but everyone had made some concessions, and the music was quite pleasant. The buzzer that grated on Heath’s nerves a little disrupted the quiet. “You have got to get that changed,” Bran murmured as he got up and went to the hall to let their guests in.

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In a few moments, Heath and Logan could hear the greetings, and then Tadashi and Franco—a little too pale, as if he hadn’t eaten enough lately—walked into the living room, with Bran trailing behind them. “Happy New Year.” Franco smiled slightly and nodded at Heath, who returned the gesture. “This is my older childe.” Heath nodded toward Logan, who was staring at Franco a little. “Logan, this is Franco and Tadashi.” Logan blinked, then summoned a charming little grin and held out his hand to Franco. “A pleasure, I’m sure.” Heath could almost hear Bran rolling his eyes, and chuckled under his breath. “Logan is a flirt, don’t mind him. Unless you want to, of course,” Bran said and took a seat beside Heath again. Tadashi’s smile was slightly pinched as he watched Logan flirting with Franco. Suddenly it hit Heath why this could be a bad idea; Franco had been interested in Bran. Now there was an available and slightly slutty Logan—who looked an awful lot like Bran—in the house. “So, would you two like something to drink?” Heath asked, realizing his tone was a bit off, a bit too perky. “Sure, thank you.” Franco pulled his hand back from Logan’s and went to sit down on the third couch, and Tadashi followed him. Heath had thought three couches one too many for any living room until that moment. “Yes, please.” Tadashi nodded and relaxed visibly at Franco’s side. Heath got up and went to the kitchen. Once there, he leaned against the counter and thought about all the ways the night could end up in a huge clusterfuck. Instead of dwelling on the less-than-optimistic thoughts, he grabbed crystal glasses from the cabinet, warmed some blood bags in the microwave, and then filled the glasses. It was more obvious than he liked, but it would do, especially among the other Elders and with it being New Year’s. When he returned with the tray, the others were chatting away. First hurdle done.

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Everyone took a glass, and as they toasted to yet another year, Heath sat down next to Bran again. They all made themselves comfortable, and the conversation picked up again without much effort from Heath. Instead of taking part, he observed the others. Tadashi and Franco sat on the same couch, but they weren’t touching. Heath could tell that at least Tadashi wanted to. Franco seemed torn between being Tadashi’s boss and being younger than the Asian vampire. It wasn’t common, someone older being subservient like this to a younger vampire, but it happened sometimes. Maybe it was the fact that they didn’t have that much of an age difference. Maybe it was just a testament to Tadashi’s feelings towards Franco. Heath didn’t know. They might even have some kind of a deal between them, some reason for Tadashi to keep Franco safe, other than the obvious affection he felt. Whatever it was, it wasn’t Heath’s place to ask, and so far Tadashi hadn’t told him either. Franco’s attention drifted from Logan to Bran and back, occasionally flickering toward Tadashi and Heath, as well, but everyone knew what Franco was thinking about. When there was a short lull in the conversation, Bran cleared his throat. “Are we going to address the elephant in the room?” he asked, looking at each of the others in turn. “Bran—” Heath started, but Franco shook his head a little. “It’s okay, I know what Bran means,” Franco said and turned to look at Tadashi. “I’m sorry.” Tadashi blinked, then glanced at Heath as if not believing his ears and certainly not knowing how to react. “How about I go take a stroll in the garden?” Logan said. Then he got up smoothly and swiftly walked to the back doors. He was out before anyone had time to react, but Heath was terribly pleased about the surprising tact Logan had shown. “All right, then….” Bran sighed a little, sat up straighter, and looked from Tadashi to Franco. “Have you two talked about this at all?” “We… umm…,” Franco started to say.

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“No. I don’t know how to address this situation. I mean….” Tadashi tried and failed as well. “May I say something?” Heath asked quickly before Bran had time to offer his advice. The three others turned to look at him, and Tadashi nodded respectfully. “As I see it….” Heath stopped to think for a few moments and then addressed Tadashi and Franco. “We’re all old. Elders, to be exact. We’re old enough to know that when we’re in our own quarters, our own houses, with the people we love, we don’t have to pretend to keep up appearances in any way.” Franco looked away, swallowed, and stayed quiet. Tadashi nodded slowly, seeming thoughtful as well. “What you two decide is between you,” Bran said. “The basics have to be decided on first. Everything else, like inviting people to visit your bed… that comes later. It all takes a great deal of trust, but you’ve trusted each other for a long time now, haven’t you?” Bran spoke in a way that made him sound a lot older than his years. “We both understand that trusting someone with your life is much different than trusting them with your heart,” Heath added, pulling Bran against his side in a loving embrace. “But sometimes you just know.” Bran hummed contentedly against his neck, and Heath turned his head to kiss the top of Bran’s. The two Elders on the other couch were still deep in thought. “We’ll go check on Logan. Take your time,” Heath told them and nudged Bran to get him moving. They exited the house quickly, and Bran let out a breath. “Jesus…. They’re really blind, aren’t they?” “I wouldn’t say that, I think they’re just stuck in their ways and personal honor codes. Besides—” Just like that, a wet ball of snow splattered all over his front. Heath was so surprised, he looked up to see Logan ducking behind some bushes at the edge of the yard.

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“He’s just a kid, isn’t he?” Bran sounded amused. There wasn’t much snow—it had snowed heavily during the day, and people were either pissed off or trying to enjoy it, or so the newscast said. Now, during the night, humans were already inside, and the night seemed warm enough to turn the snow into mush. It was melting, wet and disgusting, and it was all over Heath’s clothes. “Oh yes….” He nodded, then glanced at Bran. “You take the right side?” Bran threw his head back, laughed, and then quickly scooped a bit of snow into his hands, rolled it expertly into a ball, and tossed it at Heath. He caught it easily, and Bran made another one for himself. Then they nodded gravely at each other, eyes sparkling, and began to sneak toward where Logan was hiding. Logan was sneaky; he had moved at least twice by the time Heath and Bran began to close in on him. He didn’t breathe, and since there was no heartbeat to make a sound, the only time they could hear him was when he moved. Naturally they could’ve used their bond to find Logan, but where was the fun in that? Heath and Bran gestured to each other when they got close to some sort of topiary. Bran held up a hand and raised a finger, then another, and when he raised a third, they pounced from either side and soaked Logan with the wet snowballs. It resulted in a minor snow fight—apparently Logan had used his hiding time to gather all the snow around him and making a reserve of snowballs—which turned into a wrestling match in no time. Heath couldn’t remember when he last had so much fun. Pure, unadulterated, childish fun. A cough from somewhere nearby made them roll away from each other and stop, breathless from laughing so much. Heath got up and brushed most of the dirt and slush from his clothes. Tadashi looked amused. “Someone’s having fun.” “Oh yes, I’ve discovered that you need someone younger to keep you young.” Heath grinned, giving up the fight and deciding all his clothing would be better off in the laundry bin anyway.

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“So it would seem….” Tadashi smiled, then looked at Heath intently. “Thank you. I think we’re going to go home now, despite coming here to party with you. It seems like Franco wants to spend a quiet night at home after all.” “You’re welcome, my friend. Please do visit more often from now on, and we’re only a phone call away in case you need us.” Heath put a hand on Tadashi’s shoulder and squeezed it lightly. He could see his friend struggling with emotions once again. Then Tadashi nodded, smiled, and walked back to the house to collect Franco. “Do you think they’ll be okay?” Bran asked from behind Heath. “They’ll be fine.” “Guys, we have time to shower, then it’s the New Year,” Logan said, stripping off his long-sleeved shirt, which was now wet and disgusting. He shivered slightly when a breeze brushed against his skin. “Can I come shower with you?” The brat batted his lashes at the others. Before Heath had time to say anything, Bran stepped closer to Logan and hugged him. “I don’t think so, honey. You’ll find yours, but I won’t share mine.” Then he kissed Logan on the lips before he moved away again and grabbed Heath’s hand. “We do love you, but this is Bran’s call.” Heath tried to be gentle. And it was the truth, Logan would be able to tell that. “Okay,” Logan sighed. He gazed at Heath and Bran’s joined hands slightly wistfully and tried a smile. “Maybe it’s better. The bond would fuck with us, and… I don’t want to get hooked on something I can’t have.” “You’ll find someone, or multiple someones,” Bran said encouragingly. “You’re gorgeous, Logan. All you have to do is calm down and look around.” “Yeah, right….” Heath snorted and ducked away from the playful swing Logan directed at him. They walked back to the house, left their soggy shoes on the back patio, went inside, and climbed up the stairs to shower.

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“Twenty minutes,” Logan called out when they separated at the master bedroom. “So be quick about it!” The laughter trailing down the hall told Heath what “it” Logan meant. Bran shook his head and went to put their clothes into the hamper while Heath started the shower. “Let’s just wash. No ‘it’, okay? I don’t want to make Logan feel bad.” Bran frowned when he stepped under the water, where Heath was waiting. “Fine by me, love.” Heath leaned in to kiss him deeply but pulled away before things got out of hand. He appreciated Bran’s gesture. It showed how much Bran cared about Logan, despite not really knowing the brat. “I think you managed to enjoy yourself,” Bran said cheekily while using a mildly cinnamon-scented bodywash to clean Heath’s back. “Oh yes, forgot how much fun vampire babies can be.” Heath chuckled, then said, “Ouch!” when Bran retaliated by biting his shoulder. “I’m teething.” Bran smirked, and they wrestled for the washcloth for a moment, having so much fun Heath couldn’t quite tell when he had stopped living and started to be a grumpy old bastard instead. This was so much better, so, so much. Sixteen minutes later, they were drying off when they heard the front door open and then shut again downstairs. They tensed, both reaching out with the bond and their senses. Heath confirmed Bran’s questioning look. “He’s gone.” “Damn… I hope he will be back.” “He will, eventually. I think he wanted us to have this second chance at a New Year’s by ourselves. He probably just went to find some company from the city. It’s not like there’s a lack of willing partners to ring in the New Year with him.” Heath smiled and leaned in to kiss Bran gently. “Don’t worry. He’ll be fine.” They got dressed and were back downstairs just before midnight. Bran returned from the kitchen with two glasses of blood just as Heath clicked the TV on to watch the celebrations in New York.

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The ball dropped, they put their glasses aside on the coffee table, and then Heath’s arms were full of enthusiastic, horny young vampire. “I love you,” Bran whispered into his ear and then nipped at his neck. “Love you too,” Heath murmured. Then he grabbed a handful of Bran’s hair and tilted his head where he wanted it before kissing him senseless again. When they separated, it was already well into the New Year, and Bran was smiling dazedly. “Happy New Year,” he whispered against Heath’s lips. “Happy New—oh…,” Heath gasped, watching Bran slide down to the floor between his knees and pull down his lounge pants. His butt lifted to help Bran in his endeavor like it had a mind of its own, and Bran chuckled at his baffled expression. “Your body certainly knows what it wants to be doing for the rest of the year,” Bran teased seconds before he swallowed Heath’s cock, making sure to massage it with his throat. The new skills Bran had come up with during their years apart still startled Heath occasionally, but now the biggest difference was the temperature. He let his head loll back against the couch and spread his legs more. Groaning, Heath closed his eyes for a moment and just let the physical sensations mix with the love and certainty of that love he was finally letting himself feel. This was his future, right here, with Bran. He opened his eyes and looked down at the gorgeous young vampire between his thighs. Smiling lazily, Heath reached out a hand to tangle his fingers in Bran’s hair. Bran moaned, and the vibrations made Heath groan, and his hips twitched. “Do you want to fuck me tonight?” Heath blurted out. Bran pulled back with a pop and blinked at him. “W-what?” “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but….” Heath felt a sudden bashfulness wash over him, an alien feeling he could hardly remember. “No, no, of course I want to, it just didn’t seem…,” Bran said hastily, leaning up to touch Heath’s chest through his T-shirt.

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“You thought I was a strict top?” Heath smiled a little, still not quite able to look Bran in the eyes. “Pretty much. You have that whole older-than-dirt-and-in-charge thing going on….” Bran smirked a little, but Heath could tell he was serious. “I haven’t… not in centuries,” Heath confessed. “I can’t let go like that with just anyone. I trust you.” Bran looked thoughtful for a minute. “I pretty much switch when I want to, but I was quite happy thinking that you’d want to stick to what we had before.” Heath swallowed hard. “I… I enjoy it. But I don’t do it with people I don’t care for deeply.” He couldn’t really use the word “love,” because he’d never loved anyone before. “Okay, upstairs, then?” Bran smiled kindly. “Yeah, think so.” Heath pulled his pants up. Bran shut off the TV and walked toward the hall without waiting for Heath. Curious, Heath trailed behind him slowly to give him time. When he got to the bedroom, there were actual candles lit around the room. He chuckled. “Too much?” Bran asked, lighting the last one. “No, just a surprise. A nice one,” he clarified, looking around at the shadows dancing on the walls. “I do understand that you’re not actually some blushing virgin I’m about to lead astray, but I wanted it to be nice.” Bran looked a bit uncertain. “It’s a first for us, I know what you mean.” Heath smiled and went to his lover. They stood in the middle of the room, just leaning into each other and enjoying the silence. It was nice, being so close to Bran and having his scent envelop Heath completely. He had missed this, feeling like he belonged with someone. They started to undress each other, and Heath’s erection, which had never quite gone down, came back with a vengeance.

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“I love how eager you are to be fucked,” Bran murmured into Heath’s ear, making his knees weak for a moment. The very-much-in-charge Bran was such a turn-on, even more so than the everyday Bran was. Deep down Heath knew that even though this wouldn’t become a habit—he just wasn’t built that way—it was something they needed to share now, at the beginning of their new journey. In a few moments he was on his back on the bed with Bran leaning over him. “I never thought you could look any better than you normally do,” Bran said quietly, gazing down at Heath’s body in such a heated way he could almost feel the caress. “But in candlelight, you’re stunning.” The words were spoken with such adoration and awe they made Heath almost lose it, grab Bran, and make love to him right there. Instead he just pulled Bran down into a kiss that lasted for minutes— having no need to breathe was a wonderful thing sometimes. By the time he was prepared—Bran insisted on being as thorough as possible—and Bran pushed into him, he willed his muscles to relax at the intrusion, and fisted the sheets, hoping he wouldn’t accidentally tear them to shreds. For a moment Heath wondered how Bran would choose to do this; would he be a powerful, dominating top? Or would he make love to Heath instead? He got his answer soon enough, when Bran lowered himself, burying himself in Heath as far as he could go, and snuck a hand behind Heath’s neck. He put his other arm around Heath’s shoulder, pressing them close as Bran kissed him slowly. The slow way Bran’s hips rocked, the way his cock moved inside Heath, and how both of their fangs descended, making the kissing a bloody, stinging mess, let him know that it was making love. For all the control issues Bran had had since being turned, there was no trace of that here, as he took Heath closer and closer to the edge with measured, slow thrusts. When Bran pulled his lips from Heath’s and rose enough to plant one hand against the mattress and wrap the other around Heath’s cock, Heath let it all wash over him.

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He let go of all the carefully constructed layers around himself, around his heart and soul—if he had one. The way he came took him off guard; the slow, powerful waves washing over him like an endless ocean were nothing he’d ever experienced before. He must’ve blacked out for a moment, because when he opened his eyes again, Bran lay on top of him, watching him with a small smile on his lovely features. “What?” Heath asked, smiling back at his lover. “You were gone for a moment,” Bran murmured, leaning in to kiss him gently. “I think I’m quite good at this.” Heath chuckled and rolled them over, then laid his head comfortably on Bran’s chest. It was a good place to fall asleep, but they’d need to have another shower—the only way he could tell Bran had reached his orgasm too was the mess dribbling out of him when he turned—and the candles needed to be handled too. About an hour later, just as Heath was falling asleep, he heard the front door open and close, and then Logan’s almost silent steps past their door. Heath smiled a little, glad that Logan hadn’t left for good, and curled around Bran’s already sleeping form.

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BRAN hated his mood swings, but as more time passed, they happened less often and were less violent. By the end of January, he still hadn’t gone back to work, but he’d done a lot of fundraising and other things online and on the phone. Sheila had made him do the paperwork and everything else she had been putting off. At least Bran didn’t feel like a complete loser while having to stay at home. Sometimes, when he was unable to control himself and the rage took over, he remembered Tadashi’s words about people sometimes turning out “wrong.” He feared he was one of those people who would never be “right” as a vampire, but he had accepted the idea that only time would truly tell. They hadn’t gone out yet—he wasn’t going to risk the blood and sex lust of people in clubs—but his friends had come over more often after New Year’s. The guys understood, all of them, and Bran felt blessed. It could’ve been so much worse; he could’ve been shunned by his friends not just because he now had fangs, but especially after he had almost attacked them. He wasn’t sure what he thought of this darker part of himself he now had. Maybe it had always been there and he’d just contained it better. He suspected he’d always had it and that was why it had popped up and kicked him in the head when Heath had turned him. He was happy in Heath’s house. His rental had been cleaned and fixed, and then Ric had rented it to a young human couple. Heath’s things were either still in boxes—he’d get to them eventually—or

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scattered around in suitable spots around the large house he now called home. Logan had left them after spending a week in Atlanta. Apparently he didn’t want to watch them be “all over each other,” not that they were, at least not all the time. In fact, Bran thought they were starting to get over the initial shock of being back together and then the added shock of possibly spending eternity together. Bran had surrendered to the fact that he couldn’t go back to work until he was in control. It had left him depressed for a while, but then Heath had told him he’d made a donation to the Trinity Shelter so that they could afford to hire someone else to “work the floors” while Bran worked from home. The best thing had happened a few days earlier, when the buzzer had rung and a minibus full of the kids from the shelter had flooded into the house, wide-eyed and talkative as ever. LSD and Amy hadn’t been there; they’d all been reunited with the family they had left and were doing just fine. But the rest were there: Carmen with her maternal instincts watching over the younger kids, Jason with his careful but easygoing attitude, and a handful of others, herded in by Sheila, who was as curious as the kids were. Bran had been surprised, but when he glanced at Heath, he knew that his lover, his sire, had organized this for both Bran and these kids. The evening had been long, with snacks—pizza had been delivered for Sheila and the few human kids—and swimming in the pool. Jason had taken a short yet athletic swim and then re-dressed before going to wander around the house. Bran found him in the library room, nose-deep in an early edition of Shakespeare’s sonnets. “I knew I’d find you here,” Bran said from the doorway, stopping to see if Jason wanted company or not. “Obviously. Are the kids still in the pool?” Jason asked and lowered the book almost reverently to his lap. “Oh yes, Sheila is eating pizza and watching them with Carmen. I think Heath is in the kitchen chatting with some of the kids. They’re asking a lot of questions.” Bran smiled. Jason nodded. “It blows their minds, mine, too, I suppose, that he’s so old. He’s lived through stuff we can only read in books.”

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“You should try hanging out with his friends, try being in the same room with a few guys who are all over a few centuries old….” Bran grinned. Jason shivered theatrically and grinned back. “How are you?” he asked then, more seriously. “Better. Not that good yet, but getting there,” Bran said honestly. “Good. We’ll want you back whenever you’re ready.” The young man, who was older as a vampire than Bran was, smiled a little. “Eventually I will be back. Any news on the new guy?” “Sheila said she’ll interview a couple of people next week. She said we have a few live ones, so… hopefully.” “Have you thought about studying to be a social worker yourself?” Bran asked, sitting down on the couch just because it seemed weird to stand while talking to someone. He didn’t feel any need to sit or to rest, at least before it got closer to sunrise. Then it was like someone slipped him some drug that put him under quickly and efficiently. “Yeah, but I’m not sure how I could afford it.” The expression on the boy’s face was familiar. It was one Bran had seen in the mirror before he’d met Ric. “If you got some help, you might,” Bran stated. “After Heath turned me, even if it was because he had to, he wanted to give me the same things he’d given his other childe, Logan. That means I have a bigger-than-I’ll-ever-need bank account now, and we’ve been discussing making some of it into a scholarship thing for kids like I was before I met Ric.” Jason looked at him thoughtfully. “I never had family after I was kicked out for being gay, Jason. I know the kinds of problems you have. It wasn’t like I could see a future in front of me, either. For me, it was Ric; for you it can be the money I’d be donating anyway.” Bran sighed and looked at the stubborn set of Jason’s shoulders. “Think about it, okay? Look at what you’d have to do to finish your GED and start studying. I know what it costs, and I also know you could stay at the shelter and help with the kids so you wouldn’t have to move.”

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Jason thought for a moment, fiddled with the sleeve of his blue hoodie, and nodded slowly. “Okay, I’ll give it some thought.” “Good, that’s all I ask. If you want, you can even work for us, be our pool boy or something during the summer. We’ll figure something out. But I know you’d be awesome at the job,” Bran said, smiling widely now, absolutely certain he was right. Jason ducked his head a little and pretended to concentrate on the sonnets again. Bran took that as a cue to leave and went to find Heath.

WHEN the guys started to talk about having some sort of a Valentine’s party, now that they all were coupled with someone, it all boiled down to location. The most logical place would’ve been Heath and Bran’s, but Bran felt like the others might want to host it at their homes. Ric’s apartment certainly had a lot of room, but it was just an apartment. There was no back porch or anything. Tony’s house was nice, but he seemed squeamish about having blood bags in his fridge, something that amused Adam to no end. So they ended up having the get-together at Heath and Bran’s after all. Heath even bought a new grill for Adam to barbeque on off the side porch near the kitchen. They invited Franco and Tadashi too, so that the vampire/human ratio would be more even. It warmed Bran’s heart to see Tony so happy. Adam had changed Tony just like Bran had suspected he would, and it was all for the best. Tony had calmed down, not much, but just enough for it to be noticeable for someone who knew him well. The restlessness was gone, and even though Tony was still sort of bubbly and definitely a good guy like he’d always been, his main focus now was Adam. It was so good to see Tony glancing at Adam from across the room and vice versa, just like Ric and Kris did with each other. Everyone was on the side porch or patio or whatnot—Bran thought of it as a summer kitchen of sorts, though it hadn’t been completely finished when they’d moved in—the humans trying to agree on what Adam should barbeque, and Bran and Heath trying to get away

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from the smell of the cooking meat, when Tadashi’s car rolled into the yard through the open gate. Heath looked at the car, frowned, and excused himself and Bran so that they could go meet the car. When they got to it, Franco was just stepping out, looking frazzled and lost. “Franco, what’s wrong?” Bran blurted out, stepping right into Franco’s bubble. The Elder looked so unlike his usual well-groomed and calm self that it made Bran worry. “Tad’s not here, is he?” Franco asked, and it wasn’t until then that Bran realized Tadashi wasn’t in the car. “No. We thought you’d arrive together?” Heath stepped closer too, staying by Bran’s side. “Shit….” Franco sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, looking miserable. “We…. It wasn’t a fight, it was just… trying to figure this out, and he left. I thought he’d come here but….” “When did he leave?” Heath asked in his no-nonsense tone. “Yesterday, just after sunset.” “He hasn’t been here,” Bran said, reaching for Franco’s hand and then squeezing his fingers. “What happened?” “I guess it was his time to freak out about how things are changing between us. Took him a while….” Franco sounded defeated. “He’ll come around.” Heath gave Franco a quick hug, something Bran saw as the biggest indication of how far they’d come in such a short time. There was no jealousy between them anymore, just friendship, even though it was obvious Heath was better friends with Tadashi than with Franco. “Do you want me to try and call him?” Heath asked Franco. “No, he isn’t answering my calls, and I don’t want to put you in between us. But if you hear from him, could you call me and let me know he’s okay?” Franco’s eyes were beseeching. “Of course.” Heath nodded solemnly. “Ask Five or someone else stay with you, okay? You shouldn’t be alone while you wait. And eat, okay?” Bran hugged Franco close for a

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moment, offering comfort because there was very little else he could do. He didn’t ask if Franco could stay; it was obvious that February 14 wasn’t a day to spend away from your partner, especially in these circumstances and surrounded by other, ridiculously happy couples. Franco left soon after, and when his car had exited the gates, Bran wrapped his arms around Heath and they stood in the front yard, embracing each other in silence, for a few moments. “You think he’ll come back?” Bran asked finally, after he was absolutely sure that Heath was still there with him. “Yes, Tadashi lives by his own personal code. He’ll be back when he realizes he was wrong to leave Franco alone.” Heath’s tone was surprisingly hard, as though he was disappointed in his friend for leaving Franco behind like this. “Not the best time of the year, either….” Bran sighed, trying to get closer to Heath. “No…. It’s not a meaningful day for us older ones unless we have more… modern lovers, I suppose, but the holiday is still everywhere, and he knew about this party too. He must’ve panicked for real. I can’t see him doing something like this otherwise.” “Hey, lovebirds, where’d you go?” Tony called from the corner of the house. “We’ll be right there!” Bran called back to him. “Nothing we can do unless Tadashi contacts us. We just need to keep on hoping he will. Or better yet, that he goes back to Franco.” Heath took Bran’s hand, and they walked to the others together. “Did I hear a car?” Ric asked when they joined the others. “Yeah, it was Franco. They’re not coming after all.” Bran frowned and looked at Ric in a “please let it drop” way. “Oh, okay.” Ric nodded slowly, reading him just as well as he had before. “So, what’s for dinner?” Bran clapped his hands together, looking around as if he were actually going to eat any of the regular food. Adam chuckled from his spot next to the grill. “I don’t know, AB negative?”

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“Eww… has to be A positive for me.” Heath made a disgusted face, and for a moment all the humans froze and stared at him. Bran tried to hold it in, but suddenly a snort escaped and he lost it completely. “Yeah, laugh at the poor humans….” Tony tried to look offended, but soon everyone was laughing. Bran went to the kitchen to get a mug of blood—they had conditioned their human friends to use mugs; apparently anything transparent like glasses was still out of the question—and got one for Heath too. He stuffed four bottles of beer under his arm and then walked back to the porch, wondering about the way his life had changed so quickly. He was happy now, happier than he had been in a long time. Yeah, happier than he’d been since Heath had kicked him out all those years ago. He preferred not to dwell on it anymore because it was clear to him that it had all been for the best. Heath was different, having been shaken out of his stagnant notquite-life by realizing what he missed after kicking Bran out. He was nowhere near the cold, emotionless Elder he had been when they first met. It was like he’d been given some miracle drug that made him look around and see the world around him in a different way again. The biggest indication was the shelter project. Bran knew that before Heath had all but tripped over Bran the night they first met, the safety and life—or death—of street kids was something Heath had never thought of. It just didn’t concern him. His only concerns were seeing another sunset, which meant he wanted to feed and fuck and that was about it. Sometimes Bran wondered how far from the final death had Heath been when they met. It couldn’t have been a good existence, living like that, almost there but not quite. He distributed the bottles to the humans and took the second mug to Heath. Then he picked a spot on the wooden post at the corner of the porch and perched on it, drinking his blood slowly. His own life was so different now too. If he had never met Heath, he’d be dead for sure. He’d have died in that disgusting alley in the fresh snow in Chicago before his life ever really started.

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If he hadn’t had his year with Heath in the beginning, he wouldn’t have learned what it was like to love a vampire. He wouldn’t have known what it was like to have someone there for him, or the joy of dedicating yourself to someone you loved more than life itself. And finally, if he hadn’t been kicked out by Heath, he would never have experienced the things he had in the past decade. The heartbreak, working for minimum wage, and learning to surf in Hawaii. Bran turned his head to look at the humans. If he hadn’t come to Atlanta afterward, he might never have met Tony and Adam. He might never have gotten into that drunken fight and ended up in a hospital. He’d never have met Ric, and through him, the ray of sunshine that was Kris. He wouldn’t have gotten all his ink, and he certainly wouldn’t have ended up working at the Trinity Shelter. Most of all, he wouldn’t have grown up like he had while experiencing all these things and meeting all these people. Maybe he would have grown up with Heath or they would’ve split up along the way. He might have been turned earlier, or maybe not at all. Certainly not like he had been now. While Bran’s mind was rewinding his life since that one cold night in Chicago, the humans got their food cooked and took their plates inside. “Bran, you coming?” Heath asked from the doorway to the kitchen. “In a minute. Go on.” Bran smiled at his lover. Heath smiled back, his gorgeous features so familiar and loving, and stepped inside the house. Deep down Bran knew he wouldn’t have been ready for this before now. Everything that had happened to him in the last fifteen years or so had prepared him for this moment. The moment when he knew he was exactly where he was supposed to be. With that in mind, he went inside a while later and casually sat on Heath’s lap, right there at the dinner table. “Oh, do you have to…,” Tony whined. Bran grinned. “Yes. You should try sitting on Adam’s lap at some point.”

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“Why not the other way around?” Tony raised a brow at him. “Because you’re about half his size?” Kris piped up, making Adam snort inelegantly. “I like it when Kris sits on my lap too,” Ric commented before taking a sip of his beer. “At least he’s not giving you a lap dance at the table…,” Tony murmured, pointedly cutting into the steak on his plate. “Now that’s a good idea,” Heath said against Bran’s neck, just loud enough for everyone to hear it. Everyone cracked up, making Bran feel warm and loved. He listened to the bickering and looked at the laughing faces around the table and shook his head at some of the conversations he was trying to follow. He liked to observe these people, his people, because they were all unique in their own ways, and he couldn’t imagine life without them. Later on, they all sat in the living room, paired on the couches, more or less sprawling with full stomachs, and the conversation drifted from one topic to another. “So you’re saying you never watched Buffy?” Kris asked Heath with such wide-eyed disbelief Bran snorted in amusement. “No, I’ve seen the faces of those vampires. Seriously?” Heath answered. “Yeah, but, like… Spike,” Kris said in an almost reverent tone. Adam nodded. “Gotta agree with the kid.” “Dude, you weren’t even gay when the show was on TV,” Tony pointed out from where he lounged with his head in Adam’s lap and his feet on the armrest of the couch. “True, but he’s hardly gay now, so that doesn’t count as a valid argument,” Ric pointed out. “Wait… Adam’s not gay?” Heath asked, obviously having missed something. “Oh no, he’s just Tonysexual.” Kris shrugged and changed the subject from Buffy to Queer as Folk. “So, guys.” Ric cleared his throat about an hour later before sitting up on the couch. “Now that we’re all happy”—he glanced at Bran before digging a small box from the pocket of his jeans—”and it’s

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Valentine’s Day and everything….” He slid down on the floor next to where Kris was staring at him with wide eyes. “Oh my God…,” Kris breathed. “Kristian Sands, would you do me the honor of spending the rest of eternity with me?” Ric asked, holding out the box with two silvercolored rings in it. “Well, not eternity like in their case,” Ric said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder at Bran and Heath, “but in the human way?” Everyone chuckled a little, but they were also holding their breath with Ric. When Kris nodded vigorously, murmured, “Yes, yes, yes…,” and then he leaned in to kiss Ric, the others exhaled and turned their gazes away from the happy couple. The kissing and exchange of endearments while putting the rings on each other was accomplished in relative privacy, while Heath and Bran and Adam and Tony concentrated on each other. “Do you think… one day…?” Heath asked quietly, for Bran’s ears only. Bran blinked. “Are you asking what I think you’re asking?” “I might be…,” Heath said in the same almost-not-there tone and looked insecure. “I might have to make you squirm for a while. Besides, we can’t steal their thunder.” Bran smiled at Heath, who relaxed again. They kissed once, then turned to look at Ric and Kris, who were already showing their rings to Tony and Adam. “Congratulations!” Heath said as they all got up to embrace their friends. “I think this calls for something better to drink,” Bran said. “That’s true,” Heath agreed. “Ric, why don’t you come with me to the wine cellar to pick whatever you’d like to celebrate with?” Ric seemed surprised but tagged along with Heath anyway. The two hadn’t been the best of friends, despite being friendly with each other. Adam and Kris were talking animatedly about something when Tony suddenly wrapped his arms around Bran from behind and leaned his chin on Bran’s shoulder.

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“Amazing, isn’t it? The whole peace, love, and understanding thing?” The warm breath against Bran’s neck felt odd and good, and the thumping of Tony’s heartbeat against his back was almost disconcerting. “It is,” Bran agreed. “But I’m not complaining a bit.” Before he could become truly uncomfortable, Tony kissed the side of his neck, squeezed him a little, and then stepped away from him again. “I’ll get there too, you know,” Tony promised with a small, slightly hesitant smile. He was still having a hard time accepting Heath, even though Bran was now a vampire too. Bran knew it was because Tony had seen him hit the rock bottom that was more or less directly caused by Heath. “Yeah, you will, I’m sure of it.” Bran smiled at his best friend. They celebrated Ric and Kris’s engagement that night, and Bran hoped that Tadashi and Franco could solve their problems eventually. If a miracle happened, even Logan might find someone who would suit and complete him. There was no guarantee of a happy ending for any of them, but they could always try their best to aspire to one, technically dead or not.

About the Author

TIA FIELDING lives in a peaceful little town in a small country in northern Europe. She loves nature, her horses, cats, and even the yappy little thing that occasionally gets called a dog. Tia learned to read before she went to school at the age six and began writing as soon as she figured she had stories to tell around the mature age of seven. Stories about horses, adventures, and ghosts might have turned into hot GLBTQ-romance, but she still has a wicked imagination and, hopefully, more stories to tell. Visit her at http://www.tiafielding.com and by Twitter @tiafielding.

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