Passing Memories

Passing Memories Elizabeth Jewell All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2008 Elizabeth Jewell

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ISBN: 978-1-59596-862-3

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Editor: Maryam Salim

Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

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Passing Memories Elizabeth Jewell In the aftermath of the attack by the evil necromancer Antoine, Alex has changed. He’s been a vampire, albeit temporarily, and the experience has marked him, changing both his sexual appetites and the way he looks at the world. But before he can explore what’s happened to him, he receives news about his father. The man who abused him as a child is now at death’s door, and Alex must face his painful past. In the meantime, Liam must also deal with shadows of his past, when an unexpected figure arrives at his door. Both men must accept their histories in order to move forward with each other -- a difficult process tempered only by the power of their love.

Chapter One Alex receives the phone call on a Wednesday afternoon. It’s early for him to be awake; a dream woke him at four forty-five. He’s stretched out in bed, half-drowsing. When the phone rings he blinks blearily, not entirely certain he heard it. He does that sometimes -- half-hallucinates the sound of the phone, or the doorbell, or the impatient change-my-battery chirp of the smoke detector. But this is the real thing. He blinks a few more times, then rolls over and reaches across the dead-still bulk of Liam’s sleeping body and fumbles the phone into his hand. “Hello?” His voice is rough with sleep. He says nothing else for a long time. The voice on the other end is calm and steady. Finally Alex says, “Thank you. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” and hangs up. He stares at the ceiling for a few minutes, then rolls out of bed and goes to the kitchen.

*** He’s still there two hours later when Liam finally awakens. He’s made coffee and sits with his hands wrapped around the mug. He’s taken two sips; the rest has gone cold between his palms. Liam is wrapped in a blue robe, which he pulls closer around him as he approaches the table. Seeing Alex, he slowly sits down across from him. He reaches out and brushes his fingers along Alex’s where they clench the cold coffee mug. “What is it?” he asks. “Are you all right?” Alex looks up at Liam as if only then becoming aware of his presence. He swallows. Liam is alarmed at the dullness in his eyes. “It’s my father,” Alex says, his voice quiet and calm. “He’s had a stroke. They want me to come. The doctors.” Liam frowns. “Will you?”

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“I don’t know.” There is silence for a time. Alex’s hands twitch on the mug, fingers tightening and loosening in strange spasms. Finally he lifts the mug to his lips and takes a drink. Liam recognizes the responding grimace. He lifts the mug from Alex’s hands and takes it to the microwave. He isn’t sure what to say. He hasn’t spoken to Alex about his father since the first time they made love, when Alex had explained what he needed from Liam. Alex’s father raped him, years ago, and while the memories brought Alex to Liam, Liam wishes Alex had never suffered so. He stands in front of the microwave, watching the green numbers change. The minute it takes to reheat the coffee feels like an eternity. He drums his fingers on the cabinet, hears Alex behind him, shifting in his chair. Finally the microwave beeps, and Liam takes the mug out. He carries it back to the table and sets it down in front of Alex. Alex takes it and turns it, folds fingers through the mug’s handle, but doesn’t drink. “He had a stroke,” he says. Liam doesn’t point out that he’s already said this. He doesn’t want to break the flow of Alex’s thoughts. He waits. “A massive stroke,” Alex goes on. He speaks slowly, carefully, as if trying to understand his own words by feeling the way they move through his mouth as he speaks them. “They say… The doctor said he’s unresponsive. In a vege --” He breaks off. His lips press together in a thin line. “A vegetative coma,” he finishes. “I’m sorry,” Liam says gently. “I need to decide what to do.” At first, Liam interprets this as the decision whether to go or stay, but then a deeper understanding settles in. “You don’t have to go.” He says this even though he’s determined not to say anything to influence Alex’s decision. He says it because he’s afraid Alex might not consider it as an option. Alex looks up into his lover’s eyes. There’s understanding there now; the deadness of the initial shock has faded. “I know.” He picks up the coffee mug and takes

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a sip. This time the taste of it softens his face, makes him look satisfied instead of pained. “I need to think,” he says. He gives Liam a strained, apologetic smile and stands. He takes his coffee with him into the other room.

*** Alex’s earliest memories of his father are not unpleasant. They are mundane, normal, the kinds of things any man his age might remember about his father. He remembers learning to ride a bicycle, how to wield a cricket bat. He remembers his father being proud of him. And then his mother’s death, and what came after, he remembers in pieces, but the pieces are vivid, intense, and painful. He pushes it back. He’s learned to deal with it, to keep it hidden away in places where he can’t feel it most of the time. These days his thoughts are mostly filled with Liam. He likes it better that way. It’s easier now than it ever has been to push all that aside. Too many good things have happened to him in the past few months. Liam has happened to him. He’s begun to think that as long as he has Liam, he can deal with anything. He leans on the windowsill, looking out into the dark. His view of the neighborhood outside his window is obscured by his own reflection in the glass. The mug of coffee is still warm in his hands. As long as he has Liam, he can handle anything. At least he hopes he can.

*** Liam waits for a time before finally joining Alex in the living room. He wants to give his lover time to think things through before he intrudes. Even so, he’s not sure he’s waited long enough. Still feels like he’s intruding when he steps past the threshold and Alex turns slightly, acknowledging him, but says nothing.

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There is a long moment of silence, Alex still standing with his back to Liam, and Liam considers leaving Alex again. Perhaps he needs more time. Then, finally, Alex turns to face him. “I think I need to go,” he says quietly. Liam nods. “I’ll go with you if you need me.” Alex nods, as well. “Thank you.”

*** Alex feels like he should rush out immediately, go to his father’s side and do whatever it is that must be done. He’s not sure why he feels that way. In so many ways, he owes his father nothing. In the interest of giving himself time to think, he books a flight for the next day. One way, which makes a knot of panic coil up in his solar plexus -- what if he gets there and never comes home? It’s silly, though. Of course he’ll come home. He’s just not sure how long he’ll have to be there. What he doesn’t do is reserve a flight for Liam. Partly because he has no idea how Liam handles airline flights, or if he flies at all, but more because the idea of having Liam come with him terrifies him. There’s too much emotion wrapped up in his relationship with his father, too much emotion wrapped up in his relationship with Liam. He feels like if the two collide, his body will go into some kind of meltdown. Just thinking about it is enough to trigger a panic attack. With his own arrangements made, he pours himself a drink with shaky hands and sits at the bar in the kitchen to nurse it. The first few sips of whiskey go down burning, then it settles into his blood and he feels his heartbeat slowing a little, his breath easing. The initial flood of panic begins to subside. “Alex?” It’s Liam’s voice, quiet, from the door into the hallway. He turns his head a little, just enough to acknowledge he’s heard, but not enough to actually look at Liam. “Are you all right?” Alex shakes his head. “I’m not sure.”

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“You didn’t make a reservation for me.” He’s been listening, then, with his vampire ears, from the other room. Alex nods. “No, I didn’t.” He starts to tense again, not sure where this is going. He doesn’t want to fight with Liam, not now. Not ever. “You don’t want me there?” “It’s not that, it’s --” He breaks off then, realizing Liam’s question holds no hurt, no reprimand, not even surprise. It’s just a statement. Finally, Alex turns to face him. Liam’s expression is sober and worried, and he stands leaning against the doorframe, hands in his pockets. Alex realizes he can tell Liam the exact truth. Liam wants no less than that. “Can I see how it goes? I’m not sure how I’m going to react. If I’m okay, then maybe you could come out later?” Liam nods. “Whatever you need, Alex. You know that.” He pauses. “And if you’re not okay?” “Then I’ll come home.” “If you need me there for you to be okay, so you can deal with this, then you tell me.” Liam’s voice rises a bit in his sincerity, and he pauses again. “You don’t have to do this alone.” Alex blinks. His eyes are strangely hot, and it takes him a moment to realize it’s because he’s fighting tears. Finally he nods. Liam nods back, and Alex returns his attention to his whiskey. When he looks up again, Liam is gone.

*** He finishes his whiskey slowly, unaware of the passage of time. It seems his brain has ground to a standstill, unable to process thought, barely able to process sensory stimuli. The liquor is hot and intense on his tongue, almost too much for him, but he continues to drink, focusing on the burn as it slides down his throat. Finally, the tumbler is empty. He considers pouring more, but instead gets up and goes into the bedroom. Normally he’s awake and working at this hour, but now he’s drained, exhausted. He doesn’t think he can sleep, though.

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Liam is sitting at the desk in the bedroom, papers spread out on one side of it which he consults as he mouses through webpage links on the computer. Alex recognizes the papers as the background for a case they picked up on Monday. He wonders if Liam brought the papers home, or if he’s actually left the house and come back while Alex was absorbed in his drinking. The vampire looks up as Alex comes in. “Feeling better?” he asks, and Alex nods though he knows it’s just a platitude. “Good,” Liam answers. “When is your flight?” “Tomorrow.” He sits on the edge of the bed and shoves a hand through his hair, trying to dispel the feeling of unreality that has taken root. “Four-thirteen, I think.” “Why not four-fifteen?” Liam queries. “Why do airlines always schedule on such odd times?” Alex smiles a little -- he’s always wondered about that, himself. “Just to confuse everyone.” Liam chuckles. “It seems to work. Do you know I’ve never been on a plane?” “Really?” “Really. Nearly three hundred years and I’ve never been on a plane. Well, not that it was an available option for the first two hundred and change, but still. You’d think I would have tried it by now.” “Why haven’t you?” “Honestly? They scare the shit out of me.” Alex can’t help but laugh. Things seem normal again for a few, precious seconds, then the strange weight settles again. “God, I’m so tired.” “Understandable. Sleep.” “It’s still early.” “Doesn’t matter. Just sleep.” Alex shakes his head. “I don’t think I can.” “A warm shower, then?”

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The moment Liam suggests it, Alex knows that’s exactly what he wants. “Yes. I think that’s just the thing.” But when Liam responds by getting to his feet, Alex realizes the vampire’s idea of what would do Alex good is a bit different from his own. “Let’s go, then,” Liam says. Alex starts to protest -- he wants to be alone -- then he realizes he doesn’t want to be alone, at all. He stands and takes Liam’s hand, and his lover draws him into the bathroom.

*** They’ve showered together before, but not often. The temperature has always been an issue. What Alex interprets as a nice, warm shower is uncomfortably hot to Liam, whose body temperature is naturally lower. But Liam adjusts the water to the steamy level of heat Alex prefers, and within seconds there’s a fog on the mirror. “Won’t that be too hot for you?” Alex asks, pulling off his socks. Liam shrugs. “I can manage.” He moves toward Alex, who is sitting atop the closed toilet lid. “Now, let’s get you undressed. It’s messy if you shower with your clothes on.” Liam’s fingers find Alex’s buttons and deftly undo them, fingers brushing against his chest as he moves down the line toward Alex’s beltline. Alex doesn’t protest -- he knows it won’t do any good. And it feels good to be taken care of, as hard as it is for him to just relax and let Liam do it. Knowing Liam will let him reciprocate makes it easier. Liam’s hands are quiet and careful as he opens Alex’s shirt, his fingers brushing gently against Alex’s skin. He pulls the shirt open, fingers sliding into the shallow grooves between his ribs. Alex lets his eyes fall closed, feeling the rising heat in the room. He reaches for Liam, finding his shirt buttons, the snap of his jeans. “You’re in a hurry.” Liam chuckles. “Don’t want the water to get cold.” “Good point.” His lips press to Alex’s and Alex opens his mouth to his lover’s tongue, letting him in.

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Alex breathes the steam, lets Liam draw the rest of his clothes from him, while he pulls Liam’s off him. By the time he opens his eyes again, they’re both naked, and Liam takes Alex’s hand and leads him to the shower. The water rushes over him, hot and soothing, and Alex realizes this is even more what he needs than he thought. Warm water sluicing over his body, Liam’s skin rapidly warming, pressed up close against him. Liam turns him in the small space of the shower, so that Alex faces the water. Liam’s stomach presses flush against Alex’s back, sliding on a thin layer of water. His skin has lost its vampire chill and is warm and comforting against him. Alex immediately feels less broken. “Are you sure it’s not too hot?” His voice surprises him with its quietness -- he can barely hear himself over the water. “It’s fine.” Liam’s arms wrap around Alex, drawing him even closer. His hipbones are tucked tight against Alex’s ass, and Alex can feel Liam’s cock, hard and ready against the cleft. Alex closes his eyes again. For the first time in months, his body reacts in fear to the evidence of Liam’s desire. He is still for a moment. Liam’s hand strokes slow, even circles on his belly, pressing up against the rise of his ribcage, brushing his pubic bone on the way down but passing no farther. Barely missing the root of his cock, which is slowly hardening under the stimulation in spite of the fear tightening the back of his throat. He needs this. Needs to let Liam ease him. He takes a slow breath, helping him to relax. Liam’s mouth opens against Alex’s shoulder, warm and wet, teeth brushing his skin. His body is pressed as tightly against Alex as it can possibly be, nothing but a thin slick of water separating them. Liam’s hand shifts again, rising higher, fingers tweaking Alex’s nipple. Alex reaches back to clasp Liam’s hips with both hands, anchoring himself, holding his body tight to Liam’s, increasing the contact where it seemed impossible for them to get any

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closer. The language has become automatic between them; the request for permission, the acquiescence. Liam takes the cue; his other hand lowers, fingers pressing against the base of Alex’s erection. Then he tips his hips slightly, and his own, hard cock slides between Alex’s thighs, the head pressing lightly against the back of his scrotum. “Yes,” Alex says quietly. He wants Liam to know he’s all right, that there’s no reason to stop. Liam lightly kisses the top of his shoulder. “Soap,” he says. Alex takes the soap from the shelf in the corner of the shower and slides it under Liam’s fingers, which are still toying with Alex’s nipple. The stimulation has risen almost to the point of pain. He doesn’t want it to stop. The soap slicks Alex’s skin, Liam’s hands moving in an easier slide. The tension begins to ease in Alex’s shoulders, in his heart. Instead it settles toward his groin, where it’s more welcome, in its way more comfortable. Desire burns away fear; it always has. Liam’s fingers curl around his cock, gentle, then firmer, and he says again, “Yes.” Liam starts to move against him. The vampire’s erection slides between the tops of Alex’s thighs, pressing right against the skin behind his balls, bumping his scrotum with each slow thrust. With each forward movement, Liam draws his fingers along the length of Alex’s cock, until Alex begins to move, as well, his rhythm matching his lover’s, the need pooling between his legs. In a way, he wants Liam inside him, but in another way he doesn’t, just wants the heat and the closeness and the touch, but not the penetration. So he’s content with Liam’s slow glide between his thighs, pushing him forward, forward, until his face presses against the wall of the shower. The vampire’s thumb traces slow circles at the base of Alex’s spine, pressing harder and harder, then easing again, sliding down the cleft of his ass. Finally the soap-slick pad of his thumb meets his opening, circles the tight muscle, not penetrating, just rimming, teasing the nerves there, making Alex’s ass clench and spasm with the stimulation. He can’t hold himself still. His body bucks and rocks, matching Liam’s thrusting, clenches and pulses in response to the thumb against his anus. He can’t even speak; just

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lets out strange, strangled sounds he can’t control. Reaching down between his thighs, he holds his fingers behind his balls, so that the head of Liam’s cock touches them on each thrust. Liam bends forward a little more, face pressed into Alex’s shoulder, then his mouth opens and his teeth dig in. “God.” Alex finally manages a coherent word. Everything is so hot -- the water, the steam, the straining length of his erection, the harsh slide of Liam’s shaft between his thighs. There’s more than water on the head of Liam’s cock; Alex can feel the slick stickiness of pre-come. The vampire’s teeth clench harder, but he doesn’t draw blood. Alex doesn’t want him to let go. Wants him to bite harder. His needs have changed over the past weeks, his body responding in ways it never has before. He’s been a vampire for a short time; he’s been Liam. Sometimes, like now, he wants things a vampire wants. He doesn’t know how to ask for them, though, and he’s afraid Liam won’t give them to him even if he does ask. Liam eases back, too soon for Alex, licks the place where he bit, and says tautly, “Now.” Alex feels his lover’s body stiffen against him, and come spills cool and thick over Alex’s fingers, his balls, down his legs. Liam’s thumb presses harder, nearly penetrating him but not quite, as the vampire’s orgasm wrenches through him. His fingers tighten on Alex’s cock, drawing him through his fist, then his thumb slides over the head and Alex is gone, as well. His own climax spills over the wall, down the tile and into the water. He presses his forehead against the tile as release pulses through him. They are both still for a moment, Liam’s arms wrapped around Alex, one hand on his ass, the other on his cock. Alex breathes hard in the aftershock; Liam has no need to, but he is shaking vaguely. Finally he lifts one hand to run his fingers through Alex’s wet hair. “You should rest before you have to go,” he says quietly. Alex nods. He knows he should. He’s not sure he can, but he’s willing to try.

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Liam kisses him again, this time on the back of his neck, then reaches forward and turns off the water. He towels Alex off, allows him to return the favor. He follows Alex into the bedroom, and when Alex slips warm and naked under the blankets, Liam comes with him.

Alex awakens when the soft light of morning starts to invade the room. The sunrise can barely breach the curtain, held safely away from Liam where he lays sprawled on the bed next to Alex, one arm slung over Alex’s waist. Alex lies quietly for a moment, staring at the ceiling. He has several hours yet before he has to leave for the airport. He curls his body against Liam and drifts back off to sleep.

Chapter Two Liam is alone when he awakens. The bed is cold, and outside it’s dark, the sun nearly set. He sits up and pushes a hand through his hair. There’s a note on the bedside table. He picks it up, squints until the scrawling letters come into focus.

Liam --

Tried to wake you. Failed. Will call when I get in.

A.

Liam reads it twice, then lays it back down, wondering why he feels so hollow inside. The house, his heart, feel empty, as if Alex is never coming back. Pushing aside the ridiculous thought, he makes his way out of bed. He still feels woozy and not quite awake -- no wonder Alex couldn’t shake him out of sleep to say goodbye. He moves on autopilot, feeling like the sun is still up. Even when it finally settles below the horizon, he feels dreary and tired. Alex will be gone for a few days, he’s sure. He should go back to his own house, back to work. But he doesn’t want to leave. He wants to stay here, where everything smells like Alex. Where he feels slightly less alone. He’ll stay for a bit, he decides. Just a few hours, until Alex calls to let him know he’s made it safely to his destination. Then he’ll go check in at work, be sure things are moving along smoothly there. And Alex will do what he has to do, and he’ll come home. There’s blood in the back of the refrigerator, and Liam helps himself, heats it in the microwave until it’s warm enough to be palatable, then makes himself comfortable in the front room, where he can look out at the front porch and the street beyond. He

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has the lights turned down low, so he can see out into the darkness. It’s early yet; a few neighbors stroll by, walking from pool to pool of light from the streetlamps. There are children with them, and they laugh. Liam smiles a little. It’s a quiet neighborhood, a nice place for Alex to live. Better than where Liam lives, where he can hear the sirens at night. But when he goes out walking there, he finds muggers, killers, and they’re good to drink. He doesn’t kill them, but once he’s found them, they never come back. The area has actually gotten safer since he moved in. He finishes the blood and is just making his way to the kitchen to put the empty mug in the sink when the doorbell rings. He does a double take; he’s expecting a phone call, so his ears at first interpret the sound as the phone, but it isn’t. It’s an entirely different sound, a low “bong.” He pauses, mug still in hand, and turns back toward the front door. Alex has infrequent visitors, usually people Liam also knows. Liam isn’t sure Alex has very many friends outside of work. He doesn’t bother to check the peephole. There’s no point, since no one presents a danger to him. But when he opens the door, he realizes this isn’t strictly true. A woman stands on the front porch. She is small, slim, and blonde, her hair cut to fall in a neat oval around her face. Her blue eyes smile up at him, and she tilts her head a bit to the side. The voice is small and feminine, and dangerous, and oh, so familiar. “Hello, Liam.”

*** Liam was thirty-one years old when he met Monique. She was small and beautiful, and he’d never seen a woman with such pale hair. She had a vague accent -Icelandic, he knew now. It had sounded Scottish to him at the time, and he in his Irish bravado took it as a challenge. She made him think she was a challenge, but in truth she only led him on the chase she wanted to lead, made him work for it until, a week after he first spied her in the stables, she let him tumble her in the hayloft.

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He remembers this very clearly, even though it happened nearly three centuries ago. He remembers wrapping her in an extra horse blanket because she had seemed cold. Remembers her tongue tracing his lips, and her small, chilly hands teasing his cock out of his trousers. Her mouth on him, her tendency to bite. He’d never had a woman nip at his balls before. Odd, but also arousing. She lured him in. He’d only swived women then -- later he became less particular. Blood was blood, and a fuck was a fuck, and he took both wherever he could get them. But she made sure he wanted her. They met in the dark behind the stables, in a copse of trees by the side of the road he took on his way home. She told him she worked as housemaid for the stable owner, that he took her when he liked and his wife watched them. The story appalled and titillated him. He wondered if the stable owner would like to watch him, as he drove himself hard and fast between her white thighs, would like to see his thick shaft press into her pink cunny. She was always hot and wet and ready for him, and it never occurred to him to wonder about the coolness of her skin, or why she only met with him at night. The former made him want to warm her, to protect her, and the latter made sense, given the surreptitious nature of their affair. Then she gave him reason to wonder, but by then it was too late. That last time, she asked if they could make love in a real bed for once. She wanted to feel a soft mattress under her back instead of the rocky ground or the prickly leftovers in the hay loft. By this time Liam was besotted, and acquired the room at a cost he could barely afford. They luxuriated in the soft bed, the blankets, the heat of the fire. Monique was warm in his arms for the first time, the light from the fireplace turning her pale skin orange. She smiled at him, bent as if to take his heavy shaft into her mouth. Instead, she bit him. He didn’t understand what was happening, only that sharp, stiletto teeth sank into the soft skin in the fold of his groin. Blood rushed from the artery there, and she drank it, holding him pinned to the bed with a strength he hadn’t known she possessed.

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She had always been so soft and pliable, letting him use her; now she was steel and iron, holding him where she wanted him, drinking him in thick, heavy gulps, until he lay loose and half-unconscious on the bed. He remembers the taste of her blood in his mouth, after, when she made him drink. In her strange, perverse way, she’d slit the skin of her own breast with a knife and made him drink there, as if she were suckling him. He had no ability to resist, and drank and drank, until she laid him back against the pillow, dizzy and weak. When he woke, everything had changed.

*** Of course he recognizes her immediately. Different hair -- it’s cropped close around her face in a way that brings out her ice-blue eyes, makes them sharp and dangerous -- different clothes. But vampires don’t age, and this is the exact same face he remembers looking into when he woke from death. The same face he’d killed for, had loved. The same woman who’d taught him to beg for pain. The same woman he thought he killed a half-century ago. “Well?” Monique says, smiling prettily. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

*** Alex’s flight comes in an hour and a half late. He’s sweaty and tired when he gets off the plane, and when he calls the hospital he’s told visiting hours are over, but he could meet with the doctor right away to discuss options. He makes an appointment instead for the next day and makes his way to his hotel. Options, he thinks as he unloads his suitcase. What options can there be aside from pulling the plug? He doesn’t want to make the decision, but there’s no one else left in the family to do it. Wearily, he pulls his cell phone out and calls home. No one answers. Liam’s gone to work, he supposes. He has no desire to call him there; even if he calls the private number, one of the office staff is likely to pick up, and the last thing he needs right now is a stream-of-consciousness sympathy chat from Carly. Feeling awkward, he leaves a brief message on his own machine, leaving the contact information for the

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hotel. What he needs, he thinks, is sleep. He strips off slowly, trying to pretend he’s not hoping for a speedy return call from Liam. The phone doesn’t ring. He slides under the blankets and closes his eyes.

*** It occurs to Liam then exactly what position he has Monique in. He smiles, feeling his teeth show. It’s more feral than he intended, but he decides he likes it that way. “It’s not my house,” he says. “I can’t invite you in.” “What do you mean it’s not your house?” Monique is offended. “Your secretary said I’d find you here.” Liam nods. He’s going to have to have a chat with Carly. “It’s not my house. And although I’ve been told I practically live here, I don’t actually live here. So, sorry, but you’re stuck on the porch.” “Well.” Monique’s expression turns shrewd and calculating as she sizes up her position. “That sucks.” “It does, indeed.” He lets his gaze scrape her insolently. He’d undress her with his eyes, but he’s already well-acquainted with what she looks like naked. She only tips her head slightly, eyes narrowing. “We’ll have to go somewhere else, then.” “We will? Why?” He leans against the doorjamb, flaunting his ability to stand on the threshold. “Because I need to talk to you.” Liam considers. He can’t imagine what Monique would want to talk to him about that he would be interested in. They didn’t exactly part on speaking terms -- the last time he saw her, he drank her and left her for dead in a five-star hotel room in Moscow. Unless that’s what she wants to talk about, in which case -“I’m not sure I want to talk to you,” he finally answers. Behind him, he hears the phone ring. It’s Alex -- he’s certain of it. But he can’t give ground right now. Monique has always been deadly. He has to assume she still is.

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“Give me a chance.” Her tone is matter-of-fact, no pleading in it at all. But some of the shrewdness has gone out of her eyes. He considers, then finally nods. “All right. I’ll meet you at my office in an hour.” “Where’s your office?” He pushes away from the doorjamb and takes a step back into the house. “You found this place. I’m sure you can find my office.” And he closes the door in her face.

*** Alex is dreaming when his phone rings. He’s dreaming of his father. There’s nothing frightening about the dream; his father is talking quietly to him, but Alex can’t quite hear what he’s saying. The light is strange. Everything is pale and washed out, and his father seems small and fragile, as if the wind might blow him away. The dream dissipates as the cell phone warbles its ring tone. Alex rolls over on the bed, reaching for the phone on the nightstand without opening his eyes. “Hello?” “Alex? It’s Liam.” It never occurred to Alex that it might be anyone else. He didn’t even check the caller ID. He starts to sit up, then doesn’t, instead rubbing the heel of his hand into his eyes. “Hey.”

“How was the flight?”

“Shitty.” He takes a slow breath. “Hour late. I’m at the hotel.”

“Have you been to the hospital?” Sometimes Alex is glad that Liam isn’t afraid of

direct questions. Sometimes he’s not. He’s not sure which way he feels right now. “Not yet. I’m talking to the doctor tomorrow morning.” “Good. Call me if you need to talk.” “I will. Thanks.” There’s a slight pause, then Liam says softly, “I love you.” “Love you, too,” Alex mumbles back, still a little unnerved by the words, even more unnerved by the fact that they’re true.

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“Sleep well,” Liam adds, then there is a slight click, and silence. Alex lays the phone back down on the nightstand and goes back to sleep.

*** Liam fiddles with the disconnected phone for a few minutes after he’s disconnected. He wants to call back, but he knows he can’t tell Alex anything right now. Alex has enough to deal with as it is without having to worry about Liam’s encounter with Monique. Liam will take care of it, and when things are settled, he’ll tell Alex. Because they will be settled, and he’ll move past it. Still, strangely, he wants to tell Alex everything. Or not so strangely. He’s become so close to Alex he supposes it’s natural to want to talk to him about this. It’s more than the closeness, even. Alex has shared Liam’s memories, and in many ways knows as much about Monique as Liam does, himself. Liam isn’t sure if that would make it better or worse. Finally, though, he sets the phone back down on the table without calling again. Alex needs his rest, and Liam needs to get Monique out of the way so he can be available for Alex. The sooner the better. Alex needs him.

Chapter Three Liam pulls into his usual spot in the parking garage under the office building and turns off the engine. He leaves the radio on, though, some droning, mediocre rock band pouring out angst into the car. He wonders if Monique has found her way here yet. Probably. She can wait. He can’t think of Monique now without remembering that last day. The day he hit his breaking point. The day he did the unspeakable. He’d been with her so long, he couldn’t remember what it was like to be without her. But he knew she held him back. He could be so much more if it weren’t for her. He wanted more power, wanted to rule his own cadre. She stood in his way. Worse, she kept him under her thumb, kept him as her toy. He wasn’t going to let her do it anymore. He wanted to be his own man. The evening started out as they usually did; they stalked the dark streets of Moscow, fed, returned to their rooms in the best hotel in the city, and fucked. But with Monique it was never just fucking. Never about the sex. It was always about power. How much of it she could get from Liam. How much of it she could take. And that night she crossed a line. He still doesn’t know exactly what she did to him. All he remembers is the pain, blinding, incapacitating, that ripped from the base of his spine straight up his back, as if she’d run a hot poker up his backbone. He lay there stunned and blinking for a moment, then the pain grabbed the back of his head and he flooded with rage. He couldn’t stop it. Only bloodlust had ever been as strong as the sheer fury that took him over then. He growled, a tearing sound in his throat, and suddenly Monique was under him, small and fragile, with something in her eyes he’d never seen there before.

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Fear. And he bit her. He knew it was wrong. Dangerous, even. Monique’s blood play -- shallow cuts, her tongue lapping up the drops welling from Liam’s skin -- was one thing; actually biting hard and drinking deep was another matter entirely. Liam bit hard and drank deep. The blood burned through him like nothing he’d ever tasted before. The pain fled, replaced by a strange, intense energy. He couldn’t stop drinking. Sweet, hot, a tang to the flavor that reminded him of the way Monique smelled after sex. He didn’t know how much of her he had swallowed down when, finally, his stomach clenched on the rich, thick, heady fluid, rebelling, and he pulled himself back. He sat for a few long minutes, dizzy, staring at her. She lay limp and pale on the blankets, her eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. Her arms were flung out, one bent toward the headboard, the other falling over the side of the bed. She’s dead, he thought, when he could think again past the buzz of intoxication in his head. I killed her. Pushing himself back away from her, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He felt strange, as if the blood had done something to him, or was in the process of doing something to him. But he couldn’t think about that now. All he could think about was the broken, doll-like figure of his sire spread out in front of him, and the strange tightness growing in the middle of his chest. Shaking, he pulled his clothes back on and left her there. Her blood wrenched through him over the next few hours, leaving him drained and weak and filled with knowledge he never wanted, hadn’t asked for. It took him a few days to assimilate it all, blood and knowledge and memories. Most of that time he was sick with it. Eventually he recovered, but he never fully understood what Monique’s blood had done to him. Not even the experience with Antoine had answered those questions entirely.

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Passing Memories

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He never saw Monique again. Until today.

*** She’s at the office by the time Liam makes his way up from the garage, sitting on the edge of Carly’s desk, chatting as if they’ve known each other forever. Carly is that way, though. Liam has seen her act as cozy as could be to potential clients, then provide him later with details he never would have thought to ask about. She’d saved them the trouble of going down blind alleys more than once that way. So if she’s cozying up to Monique, she’s probably also collecting information that will be useful to all of them. “So you’re, like, Liam’s mom?” she is saying, confirming Liam’s suspicion she’s bulled her way straight into Monique’s confidence. “Something like that.” Monique looks both annoyed and charmed -- Carly has that effect on people. “But you’re, like, his girlfriend, too.” Carly makes a face. “That seems a little… wrong.” Monique chuckles. “We’re vampires. It’s different with us.” “Yeah, I guess it would be. Hey, boss.” She greets Liam without glancing up at him, and Monique’s eyes widen in surprise. Liam smiles a little, pleased that the older vampire has been caught off-guard. She recovers her composure quickly, though, smoothing her pale hair with one hand. “You came.” “You thought I wouldn’t?” “I wondered.” She turns back to Carly. “It’s been nice talking to you. I need to talk to Liam in private, though.” “Oh, sure. No problem.” Carly nods toward Liam’s office. “I just cleaned up in there. Should work fine.” “Please tell me you didn’t throw anything away,” Liam comments, heading for the door to his office. He’s half afraid to see what lies beyond it, but he and Carly have

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an understanding about exactly how much “cleaning” she can do in his space. It’ll be neater, but there won’t be anything missing. “Not a thing, boss,” she replies, chirpy. Liam offers her a smile before he closes the door behind Monique. “All right,” he says to his sire, all pretense of amusement gone now. “Tell me why you’re here, and what you want. We might as well get it over with.” “I’m glad you’re so happy to see me.” Monique perches on a chair, prim and graceful, like a bird. “It gives me a warm fuzzy.” She tips her head, eyeing him cautiously. “Whether I’m happy or not depends on why you’re here.” He settles behind his mahogany desk and props his feet on it, hands folded in his lap, by all appearances unruffled. In reality, his stomach is tense, his throat tight. He’s never known Monique to be anything but evil, sadistic. His skin crawls with the thought of her nails scraping across it, rending it, drawing blood. He hates that the crawling isn’t entirely out of distaste. Part of it is arousal. Still. Even after all this time. But she had him for a long time, and she trained his body well. Her face softens, and for a moment Liam barely recognizes it. The sharpness is gone, her eyes open in a way he’s never seen before. “I’m here to apologize,” she says quietly. “For what?” “For everything. Everything I did to you. Everything I made you. I’m here to say I’m sorry.” Liam isn’t sure what to make of this. He doesn’t trust Monique, and nothing about her seems genuine to him. But on the off chance that his reactions are colored by a century of her control and mistreatment, and based on the possibility she may, indeed, have changed, he nods. “All right.” “You want to know why,” she says, and he nods. “Yes.” She smiles a little. “It was time.”

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This makes more sense than anything else he could have imagined her saying. He smiles a little. “All right.” He pauses, considering. “Would you like a cup of coffee? I have Jamaican Blue Mountain upstairs in my rooms.” Her smile turns warm. “My favorite.”

*** Upstairs, she drapes herself artfully across the most comfortable chair in the living room and watches him scoop beans into the coffeemaker. She looks almost like she belongs there, the fine, gray material of her dress draping over shapely legs, iceblue eyes tracking his every move. “I heard about Antoine,” she says. “Is that why you came?” He pushes the button on the front of the coffeemaker and it begins to growl, grinding the beans. Leaving it to do its work, he joins her in the living room, sitting on the couch across from her. She shrugs. “Partly.”

“You were concerned?”

“Not really.”

He chuckles. “Of course not.”

She tips her head back, eyes narrowing as she considers. “I was… curious.”

“About Antoine?”

“Antoine was a menace.” Again, she looks directly at him. “About the other one.

The new one.” Liam quirks an eyebrow. “His name is Alex.” “Yes. Alex. That was it.” She folds her hands over her stomach, low, framing the triangle between her legs. Liam is certain she isn’t wearing panties. He twitches between his own legs, but not very much. Perhaps he’s recovered more than he thought. “How is Alex?” “Fine.”

“He’s not here.”

“No. He’s out of town.” He won’t give her what she wants. It’s not her business.

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“I see.” She leans forward, hands still folded in her lap. “He’s human.” “I’m aware of that.” “He can’t give you what you need. He never will. You know that.” Liam is silent for a moment. Behind him in the kitchen, the coffeemaker beeps. There’s something strange in Monique’s eyes. Her posture, her words -- it’s as close to begging as he’s ever seen her come. “What we had, Monique,” he says finally, “it was over a long time ago. And I wouldn’t go back there now, in any case.” “I wouldn’t ask you to. But is it too much to ask for a second chance?” “No. But not with me.” He says the words gently, but he’s as certain of this as he is certain Alex will come home to him. “I forgive you, if that helps.” She shakes her head a little, blinking. “No, you don’t.” He chuckles. “No. Not quite yet. But I will.” “That’s something, I suppose.” He watches her shift back in her seat, poised now. “The coffee’s ready.” “Enjoy it.” Her expression has gone sad and quiet, and she slowly comes to her feet. “That’s it, then, I suppose. Good luck to you.” “And to you.” He waits while she leaves the room. Then, frowning, still puzzled, he picks up the hot pot of coffee and takes it downstairs. He takes the pot out of Carly’s coffeemaker and replaces it with the pot of freshly brewed Jamaican Blue Mountain. Carly sniffs the air. “Is that what I think it is?” “Yes.” “I love you, boss.” “I know.” He settles into the armchair in the front office, waiting while she pours herself a mug of the fresh coffee. She takes a sip, makes an orgasmic face at the taste of the coffee, then turns her attention to Liam.

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“So.” She jerks her chin toward the stairs, indicating Liam’s personal rooms with the gesture. “What was that about?” “I’m not really sure.” He shrugs. “Catch me up on our cases. I’m heading out as soon as Alex calls me.” “I’d go now,” Carly says flatly. Liam nods, thinks, then makes up his mind. “Email me anything important. I’ll be back… whenever.” “Good call, boss.”

*** The woman is small, blonde, and deadly, her eyes ice-blue and sharp as stilettos. Alex has never met her before, but he knows who she is. Monique. He saw her for the first time in Liam’s sketchbooks, that first night, before he’d gone to Liam’s bed. She is the vampire who made Liam. Who kept him and owned him and teased him with blood and pain until they became, for Liam, synonymous with lust. Alex has never met her, but he knows he doesn’t like her. When he shared Liam’s memories, when they switched bodies a few weeks ago, he became far too wellacquainted with Monique. First-hand, in a way, or close enough to make little difference. She is real to him now, as well, though some part of him knows this is a dream. When he leans forward to look more directly into her eyes, he can see the sharpness there. “So,” she says, her voice silky, “you’re Alex.” He says nothing, the part that realizes this is a dream demanding his silence. If he engages her here, where she doesn’t exist, he will make her more real to him, and thus more dangerous. If he can just ride out the dream, she can’t hurt him. She tilts her head, eyeing him up and down. “What does he see in you? I was better for him. I knew how to make him weep.” “Maybe he doesn’t want to weep.” The words come out before he can stop them.

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She only laughs, the sound soft and bright, like water. “You don’t know him like I do. You couldn’t. We had decades. A century.” This time he’s able to hold his tongue. But he knows it’s not the time that matters. It’s what they’ve become to each other. And yet -“You can’t give him what I gave him. And someday he’ll want that again, because that’s who and what he is. He’s a vampire, and you’re a human, and you can’t hold him.” Then she leans forward, and even in the uncertain space of dream, he feels her lips press against his, and the sharp bite of her fangs. He wakes abruptly. The clock on the bedside table says four a.m. His heart is pounding, his breath ragged in his throat. He’s not sure if it’s fear, arousal, anger, or some combination of the three. He touches his fingers to his lips. He can still feel the bite of fangs there, but there is no blood. It’s two hours earlier at home, so he tries to ring Liam again. There’s no answer. He debates leaving a message, but in the end hangs up on the voicemail. He has no news, nothing to say to Liam, really. He just wants to hear his lover’s voice. The sound of the voicemail recording eases the aftermath of the dream a little, and, he thinks, just how pathetic is that? He’s so used to being up at this hour that there’s no point trying to get back to sleep. Instead he turns on the TV, looking for early news, or maybe a workout program he can exercise to. He’s found 80s reruns, music videos, and infomercials, and is about to give up and see if he can get room service at this hour when there’s a knock on his door. He frowns, wondering who it could possibly be. When he looks through the peephole and sees Liam, it’s all he can do to hold back tears. “I know you said to wait --” the vampire begins, but Alex scoops him close and kisses him before he can finish the thought. He tastes his lover’s mouth thoroughly, then draws back. Liam smiles. “I guess it’s all right that I came, then?”

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“Yes,” Alex answers, and draws him past the doorway into the room. “More than all right.”

*** Liam heats water in the small coffeemaker and makes tea. Alex clasps the warm cup between his hands and sips at it. The taste of the tea, its warmth, are almost as comforting as the presence of his lover. “You’ll be seeing him today, then?” Liam asks quietly. “Yes. Well, I suppose I will. I’ll see the doctors, definitely.” He sips the tea again. He’s put too much sugar in it, but the sweetness is comforting. “Do you want me to come with you?” “It’s at nine. It’ll be bright daylight by then -- I don’t know how we’d get you there.” “I’ll find a way, if you need me.” Alex nods, blinking back tears again. “It’s all right. I’ll be all right.” Liam nods solemnly. He is still for a moment, in that way only a vampire can be still -- utterly unmoving, not breathing, no heartbeat disturbing his quiet. Then he sets his teacup down and reaches out to touch Alex. At the contact, Alex’s hand begins to shake. Tea leaps over the rim of the cup, onto his fingers. “Alex…” Alex closes his eyes and swallows hard. He suddenly wants nothing more than Liam -- his skin, his mouth, all of him. Wants Liam’s hands all over him, easing away the anxiety that has taken him over. It’s all he can do to control his own hand long enough to set the teacup down on the table. Once he does, though, the bed is only a few steps away, and he pulls Liam to it, and down into the covers, still rumpled from his interrupted sleep. They need no words. Liam presses him back into the blankets, the pillow, kisses him deep but gentle, his hands molding the landscape of Alex’s body as if he’s never touched it before. He murmurs against Alex’s throat, the curve of his shoulder, words Alex doesn’t understand, in a language that sounds vaguely familiar but isn’t.

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Nothing can ease what he has to face, but this comes close. Losing himself in Liam’s touch, his body, brings Alex out of himself, makes it possible for him to forget, at least for now. They’re both naked without Alex being fully aware of when it happens -- neither when Liam undressed him nor when he undressed Liam, or if Liam did the courtesy for both of them. He’s aware only of skin under his fingers, the coarse rasp of hair, the familiar, comforting coolness of Liam’s body. Liam kisses him, deep and thorough, his tongue exploring the inside of Alex’s mouth, his palate, the backs of his teeth, tangling with his tongue. Alex feels languid and loose, the tension draining out of him to dissipate in the rumpled blankets. Liam’s wide body covers his, and he lets himself go limp under the weight. Then the vampire speaks quietly against his ear. “Tell me what you need. If this isn’t it, tell me.” Alex blinks up at him, into the sincere dark eyes. Liam’s frowning, his brow a dark ridge drawn tight over his eyes. It’s a moment before Alex realizes what he’s really asking. If Alex needs to take control, to top, Liam’s willing to let him. He’s done it before, but today he realizes there’s no need. He’s happy to let Liam take the lead. There’s nothing threatening in it anymore. There was a time when, faced with the specter of his father, Alex would have either withdrawn from Liam or needed desperately to control their encounter. But time has passed, and Liam’s presence comforts him in all ways, regardless of who’s in control. “You’re fine,” he says. He cups Liam’s face, letting his hand mold to the curve of the vampire’s face, fingers tracing the arch of cheekbone. “I love you.” “I love you,” Liam answers, and kisses him again. With permission granted, Liam makes free with Alex’s body. He sucks at Alex’s nipple, bites it. Alex arches under him, gasping. The twinge of pain sends shards of need slashing through him, straight to his cock, which lurches up against his stomach, hard and weeping. Liam’s big hand curls around it, stroking it back against Alex’s belly. His fingers trace through the sticky pre-come, collecting it. The hand withdraws, and

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when Liam touches Alex again, it’s to slide the slick fluid around the rim of his opening. Alex feels himself relaxing, all the muscles letting go. He wants Liam inside him, and his body melts open to allow it. Liam’s not going to fuck him yet, though. Instead he moves down Alex’s body, all sleek, lithe muscle and taut limbs, and takes Alex in his mouth. His finger slips inside as he draws Alex in to the root. Alex’s whole body jolts, clenching and opening at the same time. Liam’s finger slides in to the second knuckle while the head of Alex’s cock presses the back of the vampire’s throat. Alex’s hips thrust forward, driving his cock a little deeper. Liam only chuckles -- as far as Alex has been able to tell, the vampire has no gag reflex at all -- and swallows. The compression of Liam’s throat against the head of Alex’s cock makes Alex cry out. His hands fist in the sheets, his head arches back. He feels the orgasm coming a split second before it rips through his body. Liam clasps his hip tight, holding him still, swallowing as Alex spills himself. The vampire’s finger has driven deep, and Alex thinks there might be two fingers inside him now. He can’t tell. All he can feel is the burn, tense and hot, and the spiraling orgasm that pulls him apart from the inside, then draws him back together into one soft, hot, pulsing whole. He is still. Liam draws back, letting Alex’s cock slip out of his mouth to bob back against his stomach, still semi-erect. He licks the head, suckles it again, lazily, then nuzzles the crease of his lover’s groin. He hums, the sound satisfied but wordless. His fingers turn inside Alex, still pressed in deep, and the action nearly triggers another orgasm. It doesn’t though, not quite, and Alex keeps his eyes closed, drifting a little in the aftermath. The tension is a perfect counterpoint to his enervation. He could drift away on this, go deep into the darkness and forget… And then he feels teeth. He opens his eyes, but he doesn’t flinch. Liam has traced the stiletto edge of his fangs over the flesh at the crease of his groin. The pain is sharp and surprising. Alex is

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so deep inside himself he can almost feel the edges of skin parting from each other, molecule by molecule, as Liam draws blood. He reaches down, uncertain what he’s going to do. He’s not sure he wants Liam to stop. It feels shockingly good. Liam hasn’t bitten him since Alex spent those long hours in Liam’s body, living as a vampire. The last time was an accident that nearly broke them apart. This time… this time Alex feels different. Feels like he wants it. Needs it, even. But why is Liam doing it? Alex’s hand falls to rest on Liam’s head, fingers curling into his thick hair. Liam pulls back abruptly, as if only then realizing what he’s done. The moment he pulls back, Alex is certain he doesn’t want him to stop. It’s too late now, though. Liam lifts his head and looks up at Alex, horror on his face, his fangs still showing prominently behind his upper lip. “God. God, I’m sorry. I don’t know --” Alex caresses his lover’s hair. “It’s all right. Really, it is.” “No.” Liam pulls back and sits up, his fingers leaving Alex’s body. The withdrawal is almost physically painful, Alex wants it so badly. Doesn’t want it to end. Wants Liam inside him forever, fingers, teeth, cock, whatever he can get. It doesn’t matter. It’s all penetration, and he wants it. “I promised I wouldn’t do that again. Ever.” “Promised who? I don’t recall your promising me.” “Promised myself. It’s not what you want.” Alex draws himself up to a sitting position and regards the vampire quietly. “It’s what you want.” Liam gives him a furtive glance. “Sometimes.” “Then you should have it when you need it.” Liam shakes his head. “No. Especially not now.” He seems to be drawing even farther away, though he hasn’t moved on the bed. If he moved back any more physically, he would go off the edge of the bed and land on the carpet. Alex reaches out to touch him again, hand on Liam’s face. Liam flinches a bit, but doesn’t draw back.

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“Now probably isn’t the best time to talk about it,” Alex says, “but we will.” Liam shakes his head, then nods. “Yes. There are… things we need to discuss.” This surprises Alex. Something more is going on, then. Something that’s disturbing Liam. And it must be disturbing him a lot, because usually Liam is good at staying tight-lipped until it’s what he considers a good time for heartfelt discussion. Suddenly Alex remembers his dream. Monique. And he wants to ask Liam if she has something to do with Liam’s discomfort, with his lapse into bloodletting. But when he opens his mouth to say the words, he realizes he doesn’t want to know, after all.

Chapter Four In the end, they drop the subject entirely and lie tangled in each other until daylight comes, dragging Liam down into sleep. Alex orders breakfast up to the room, feeling drained, but calm and ready to face the doctors and whatever choices he must make about his father. He leaves Liam sleeping, sprawled across the hotel bed. The sheets are even more rumpled than they were when he woke this morning. Liam is half-covered, half not, the long stretches of naked skin almost enough to make Alex miss his appointment. He smiles a little at the thought of staying here with Liam indefinitely, just staring at the vampire’s naked, beautiful body. Whatever’s come up that Liam needs to talk about, they’ll deal with it. In the end, it’ll be all right. He sits on the edge of the bed and traces his fingers along the curve of Liam’s shoulder blade, the skin soft beneath his touch. Then he sobers as, inevitably, he remembers why he’s here, and where he has to go. At the front desk, he finds someone to call a cab for him to take him to the hospital. He has no plans right now to rent a car, unless it turns out that he’s here longer than a few days. He doesn’t anticipate a long stay. He hopes he’s right. Dr. Mason’s office is stark and antiseptic. The doctor himself looks tired, worn, even though Alex’s appointment is undoubtedly one of his first of the day. He takes off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose as he gestures Alex to a chair in front of his desk. “I’m very sorry about your father,” he begins, not quite meeting Alex’s eyes. This is a man who’s had to deliver far too much bad news. So much, Alex suddenly thinks, that he’s dying of it. Why would he think that? How would he know that? He pushes the thought back and focuses on the doctor.

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“Thank you,” he says, because it’s the right thing to say, but the words don’t feel right coming out of his mouth. The doctor nods. “He’s had a hemorrhagic stroke. I could show you charts and X-rays, give you the long version of what’s happened to him. The short version, though, is that a blood vessel basically exploded in his brain. The damage is irreversible. The only thing keeping your father alive right now is the respirator. And I’m not even sure you can call it ‘alive.’ That depends on your personal belief system…” He lets his words run down, possibly aware he’s treading on dangerous ground. Alex hears his own voice as if from a great distance. “You said we needed to discuss options.” His belief system doesn’t matter much in this case. His father has been dead to him for decades. Dr. Mason slides his glasses back onto his nose and takes a slow breath. He seems -- angry isn’t the right word. Flustered. Tired. “I’m sorry. I’m really not very good at this.” “It’s all right. I just need to know what I should do.” The doctor shakes his head slowly. “We can do nothing for him. He has healthy organs that could be donated for transplant. His brain, however, is gone.” He pauses again. “I’m sorry to be so blunt.” Alex nods, looking down at his hands. “How much time do I have? I mean, how much time can I have before the organs are no longer viable?” “A bit of time. But if you’re thinking in that direction, you should be aware that there are people on the waiting lists whose time is limited.” Alex finds the doctor’s straightforward approach refreshing rather than upsetting. He’s sure many patients wouldn’t agree with him. “Then I’ll need whatever paperwork is necessary to donate his organs, and to let him pass.” The doctor seems surprised. “I think that’s a wise decision.” “Good.” Alex pushes to his feet. “Will you want to see him?” Dr. Mason asks.

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Alex opens his mouth, certain he has the answer, but nothing comes out. He closes it again and thinks, then says carefully, “Maybe. I’ll…” He pauses, thinks again. “If I do, I’ll come back during visiting hours today. After that, you can… proceed.” The doctor stands and holds out his hand. Alex takes it, shakes it firmly. “I’ll see that the paperwork is ready as soon as possible.” “Thank you.”

*** He hires a cab to take him to his father’s house. He supposes he’ll have to deal with that, as well, but not until later. After all, his father is still alive. He walks for a long time. The city has changed so much since his childhood it’s unrecognizable to him. His family moved here from England when he was barely a teenager, and the intervening years have not been kind to the neighborhoods he remembers. Other areas are brighter, better cared for, but what he once thought of as home has degraded to a point where he’s wary about even walking there. Finally he calls the cab company again and has them take him back to the hospital. He’s a bit early yet for visiting hours, so he stops for something to eat at a deli across the street, not wanting to subject himself to hospital cafeteria food. He watches the clock, then hems and haws, still hesitant about actually seeing his father. He has to, though. If he doesn’t, he knows he’ll regret it later. No, regret isn’t quite the right word. Perhaps there is no right word. He only knows he needs to face this. Still delaying, he finishes his roast beef sandwich and orders a slice of cheesecake and coffee to while away a few more minutes while he adjusts to his decision. Steels himself to do what he knows he has to do. Both the dessert and the coffee are overly rich, and lay heavy in his stomach even though he barely tastes them as he eats. He tries not to think about his father, and finds his thoughts turning to Liam, instead. The place on his groin where Liam bit him -- not even really a bite, more of a scratch -- itches a little, burns when he moves. It’s hardly a major wound, but he was

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acutely aware of it while he was walking. The more he thinks about it, the more he feels it, and the sensation isn’t one of pain. It’s arousal. He’s been a vampire. Not for long, but something of the experience stayed with him. He’s only begun to realize it over the last few weeks, and he’s sure Liam doesn’t realize it at all. Once that is out in the open between them, they can deal with it. Alex’s needs and lusts have moved closer to Liam’s. It should be a good thing. But something makes Alex think it won’t be. Not at first. Not because he’ll have difficulty with it, but because Liam will. Finally the coffee and cheesecake are gone. With no more excuses, he walks back across the street to see his father. There are the usual difficulties being admitted. He moves through the formalities without registering much about them, handing over ID, signing papers. Finally he’s in the room, and there’s nothing left to do but face his father. There are tubes and IVs and monitors, and amongst them all a small, silent form that seems so weary and broken Alex hardly recognizes it. Only in the sharp profile of the nose does he recognize his father’s features. The rest is dragged down with age and the aftermath of long illness. He senses rather than hears someone come into the room behind him. He turns to see Dr. Mason pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, looking even more tired than he did this morning. “The nurses said you’d come,” he says. His voice is gravelly. He clears his throat. “How long was he ill?” Alex asks. “Before the stroke, I mean.” Dr. Mason blinks, surprise in his expression. “A few years. He developed type two diabetes, didn’t take care of himself. The stroke was no surprise -- his diet was terrible and he refused to take medications or exercise or basically do anything to mitigate his condition.” “Why?” “No idea. Maybe it was a long-term suicide plan.” He stops, presses his lips together. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

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Alex smiles a little. “It’s all right.” He hesitates, frowning. “I imagine he hated himself. And that’s why he hated me so much.” Surprise rises again in the doctor’s eyes. “I’m sorry.” “Don’t be. I’m all right now.” The doctor looks uncomfortable in the moments of ensuing silence, but Alex feels a settled calm easing through him. “I’d like a few minutes,” he says finally, and the doctor nods and leaves him alone. Alex pulls a chair up next to his father’s bed. The old man looks dead already, drawn and pale behind the rubber tubes passing into his mouth and nostrils. Alex takes in the lines of his face, looks at his hands. The fingers look old and fragile -- nothing like the brutal hands he remembers. But that’s not all he remembers. He remembers when his father was gentle, too, and here, looking at the shell that remains, he feels the two sets of memories slide into each other, to make a whole. A broken, angry, sick man whose brokenness and hatred ate him apart from the inside. “I can’t forgive you,” he murmurs. “I should, but I can’t. But nothing about you hurts me anymore.” He has nothing else to say. Slowly, he gets to his feet, takes one last look, then pushes out of the room. Dr. Mason is standing just outside the door. He gives Alex a questioning look. “I’m finished,” Alex says. “Let him go.”

*** It doesn’t hurt. He thought it might, but it doesn’t. Maybe it will hit him later, but he doesn’t think so. He’s accepted what he is, and that what happened to him when he was a child is part of that. Perhaps he wouldn’t be with Liam now if he hadn’t suffered his father’s abuse. Still, he’s not quite ready to go back to the hotel. He knows Liam will be asleep, anyway, surrendered to his vampire nature. And when he does go back, they’ll have to talk about what happened between them. Alex will have to explain. It won’t be easy, he

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suspects. Liam will take too much of it onto himself. But Liam needs to know what Alex has realized -- that he has become a little of what Liam has always been. The idea doesn’t bother him at all. Rather, it comforts him. He has an early dinner at another out-of-the-way restaurant near the hospital, Thai food this time. The Pad Thai is spicier than he usually eats it, but the burn as it makes its way down his throat feels good. He devours it with gusto, blowing his nose repeatedly as the spices hit him, and washes it all down with Thai iced tea to cut the burn. The spices of the Pad Thai, the sweetness of the tea, all seem brighter and more intense than they’ve ever been before. He’s figuring out the tip, scribbling notes in the margins of his receipt, when he senses a presence in front of him. He looks up and takes a sharp breath. “Monique,” he breathes, automatically. She quirks a perfectly sculpted eyebrow in response. “Why, yes. And you’re Alex Weatherly.” It’s his turn to be surprised. How does she know him? “Yes.” He glances out the front window of the restaurant. “It’s a bit… not dark outside for you, isn’t it?” She chuckles. The sound is more menacing than amused. “I’m eight hundred years old. The sun is no danger to me anymore.” She makes a moue, prettily, as if it’s rehearsed. “Well, not much of one, anyway.” Alex eyes her narrowly. Everything about her is perfect, from her neatly bobbed hair to her porcelain pale skin and meticulous manicure. She is heartbreakingly beautiful, but at the same time utterly, brilliantly cold. “Why are you here?” He’s not afraid of her. At one time he might have been, but he’s seen too much of her through Liam’s eyes. Her presence disturbs him. More disturbing, she arouses him. He tells himself it’s because of the memories he shared with Liam, but he’s not sure that’s true. She has an aura of danger, of sensuality, that he thinks might snare anyone. It’s probably how she’s lived as long as she has. But while he feels this and responds to it, at the same time he’s able to distance himself from it.

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She tilts her head and scans his face, as if reading him. “I wanted to meet you. I wanted to see the man who’s stolen my Liam’s affections.” “He’s not yours,” Alex says immediately, without thinking. “Not anymore.” “Ah, but he was. Even you know that.” “Yes. I do. I know him better than you ever could have.” Both her eyebrows rise this time, in surprised derision. “Doubtful.” She slides into the chair opposite him at the table, sinuous and sleek. He watches her weave her fingers together in front of her, then looks up into her ice-blue eyes. “Why are you here?” he says again. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was surprised, or intimidated. More likely she’s just angry that he’s not frightened of her to the point of gibbering. But he knows her too well, and the knowledge doesn’t even feel secondhand, after the time spent in Liam’s body, sharing the vampire’s memories. Her tone is edged with derision when she speaks. “I see why he likes you. You’re sassy.” She leans forward over the table, resting her chin in one slim hand. “Tell me. Does he let you top him?” Again, her words are meant to shock, to throw him off-kilter. Again, they fail. Although he’s a bit miffed, just because she’s trying so hard. “Sometimes.” She shakes her head a little, something almost respectful leaking into her expression. “You’re human, though. There are things he needs that you can’t give him.” “You have no idea what I can give him.” He’s done with his dinner, and he has no further desire to talk to her. He gets to his feet and gives her a polite nod. “It was a pleasure meeting you.” His careful politeness is in direct reaction to the fact it hasn’t been a pleasure at all. She tilts her head. “The pleasure was all mine, I’m sure.” “I’m sure.” He starts toward the door, but her voice brings him to a stop. “Alex.” He turns, an eyebrow cocked, body poised for confrontation, though he doubts she’ll attack him in the middle of the restaurant. To his surprise, she smiles at him.

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“You’re not at all what I expected,” she says. “Tell Liam I approve.” Alex has no idea how to respond to that, so he doesn’t. He just leaves her there, and goes on his way.

*** Alex pushes open the hotel room door to see Liam shrugging into a jacket, a frown dominating his face. He looks up and the frown softens, but doesn’t disappear. “Alex.” Alex nods, not sure what to say by way of greeting since Liam hasn’t asked him a direct question. He will, though, so Alex just waits for it. He takes off his own jacket and lays it on the bed. “I was about to come after you,” Liam continues, his tone vaguely chagrined. Alex smiles a little. “No need.” “Monique was here.” He turns to face Alex squarely. “Wasn’t she?” Alex nods. “She found me at the restaurant.” Liam shakes his head. “Did she hurt you?” “No.” “Good.” He pulls his jacket back off and half-collapses onto the bed. “I don’t understand what she wants. Why she’s following me.” “Closure?” Alex isn’t sure why he says it, but it seems right somehow. “Something like that.” Liam folds his hands. “She came to see me at home.” Alex lifts an eyebrow. This must be what Liam has been holding back from him. Part of it, at least. “Really?” “Yes. Just after you left.” “I see.” He takes a seat on a chair next to the desk and wishes they had a wet bar. He’s seriously in need of whiskey. “She found me at a restaurant across from the hospital. She said to tell you she approved of me.” Liam’s eyebrows shoot up. “Really?” “Yes. Whatever she wanted, I think she may have found it.”

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“Huh.”

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Liam

frowns

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his

head.

“She

was

always…

incomprehensible.” There’s a long moment of silence before he speaks again. “How did it go? With your father?” “Fine.” Yes, whiskey would be wonderful right now. “He’s gone.” “I’m sorry.” “Don’t be.” He takes a slow breath. “Honestly, I’m fine.” Liam nods. “Come here.” The request -- more like an order -- surprises Alex. He looks up, then smiles again and comes to sit next to Liam on the bed. Liam wraps an arm around him and pulls him close, kisses his hair. It feels not at all patronizing. Just tender, gentle. It’s what Alex needs. “It’s time to go home,” the vampire says, and Alex can only agree.

Chapter Five They take a redeye flight back home, but the sun is creeping over the horizon as they head into the suburbs. “Office,” Liam says, hunching down into the collar of his coat. “It’s closer.” “You got it, boss.” Alex passes his lover a grin. Liam’s return smile seems strained to him. He’s worried about something. Alex suspects he knows what it is. It can wait. He hits the accelerator, abandoning the speed limit completely, and hopes he doesn’t get pulled over. They make it by inches; Liam is just pulling his silk scarf over his face as they pull into the garage beneath the office. He laughs with relief when the cool darkness closes over them, and pulls the scarf away from his face. “You okay?” Alex asks him.

“Yeah. Not quite smoldering yet.”

“That’s a relief.”

He parks the car in Liam’s usual spot next to the elevator and retrieves their

luggage from the trunk while Liam eases out of the car. He moves slowly, the daylight sapping him. Alex encourages him on his way to the elevator. “We need to get you to bed,” he says. For once, Liam doesn’t rise to the obvious joke. “Yeah.” They move into the elevator, Liam leaning against the back wall, eyes closed. Alex watches him, frowning. “Are you sure you’re all right?” “Tired.” Alex waits, but Liam says nothing else. The elevator takes them to the third floor. As usual, the door takes its time opening, giving them cause to wonder if it’ll open at all. It does, and Alex leans against the frame as Liam exits, to be sure it doesn’t close again.

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He wants to talk. He knows Liam is exhausted, but things need to be said, and he doesn’t want to wait. He holds his tongue, though, until the door to Liam’s suite is closed behind them and he’s put the suitcases in the bedroom. Liam sinks onto the edge of the bed, pulling wearily at his buttons. Seeing an opportunity, Alex steps between the vampire’s slightly open thighs and brushes his hands away, undoing the buttons himself. Liam doesn’t protest. “You take care of me far too well,” he murmurs, his voice tired and faint. Alex leans forward to ease the shirt off Liam’s shoulders, kissing the vampire’s forehead as he moves. “Only as well as you deserve.” To his surprise, Liam doesn’t smile. He only shakes his head. “I don’t deserve it. I’ve only tried to make you what you don’t want to be.” “No, you haven’t.” Alex pushes Liam back onto the bed and starts to undo his trousers. “Liam… you’re not her.” Liam eyes him soberly. He’s passive on the bed, letting Alex remove his clothes, then draw the blankets over him. “She came to apologize,” he says. “That’s what she told me, anyway.” “Did she mean it?” Alex tucks the blankets under Liam’s chin, neatening them. Liam’s answer is sober. “I don’t know.” His eyelids are drooping; sleep is coming to draw him down. “Do you forgive me?” Alex kisses his forehead. “Nothing to forgive, love. Go to sleep.” Liam smiles a little, but Alex can see he doesn’t believe him. “Shh,” Alex says. He strips to his boxers and slides under the blankets, as well, and holds his lover until they both sleep.

*** He awakens before sunset. Liam is sleeping soundly, unmoving, but still with a frown creasing his face. Alex is hungry; he slides out of bed and goes downstairs to find something to eat. The office area is quiet, since the staff generally works nights out of deference to the

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boss’s normal hours. Carly will be in soon, he knows; she’s generally at her desk tapping away on her computer before Alex arrives, and Alex is usually fairly early, himself. He makes himself a sandwich, cutting a chunk of ham from the refrigerator into thin slices which he layers with cheese and brown mustard. He’s pressing the blade through the cheddar for one last piece when the tip of the blade nicks his thumb. He stares down at the garnet bead rising on the pad of his thumb. It’s clear and bright and perfect. Reflexively, he puts his thumb in his mouth and sucks the blood off. The sweet, metallic taste bites his tongue. He presses the small slick of blood between his tongue and the roof of his mouth. It’s never tasted quite like this before. He looks at the small injury again. The bleeding has stopped already. He sets the experience aside and focuses on the sandwich. He’s almost painfully hungry, so he sits at the table and steadily makes his way through the ham and cheese and lightly toasted rye bread. It doesn’t occur to him until he’s halfway through the sandwich that it’s what his mother used to make him. With only a few bites left, he sets it back down on the plate. He is quiet for a moment; then he leans back in his chair. He’s had no need or desire to weep for his father’s death, and that hasn’t changed. There’s no feeling of emptiness there, no sense of loss. His memories of his father don’t define him anymore. Other memories do, though. Leaving the last bits of his sandwich and the sharp kitchen knife, he goes to Liam’s office. He emerges from the office with another knife in his hand, one from the small cabinet next to Liam’s desk. It’s a lovely knife, antique, with a fine, slim blade and jewels on the handle. Lovely and undoubtedly expensive. Best of all, he’s certain there’s no magic in it. It’s perfect for what he intends to do. Perfect to make Liam finally understand.

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The sun has finally sunk below the horizon, and when he goes back into Liam’s suite, the bedroom is empty, but he hears the shower running. He hesitates, picturing Liam in the shower. His hand clenches on the short hilt of the knife, and he steps toward the bathroom door. The bathroom is full of steam. The tub is old-fashioned, porcelain, with a shower curtain pulled all the way around it. Liam’s voice rises, hesitant. “Alex?” Alex sits on the closed toilet lid. “Sorry to barge in,” he says, but he’s not. Liam pushes aside an edge of the shower curtain and peeks around. There’s a puzzled expression on his face. “Do you need something?” Alex just looks at him. “I need to explain something to you.” Liam blinks, still muzzy with sleep. “What’s that?” Alex looks down at the knife in his hand. Slowly, he draws it from its sheath. Liam is watching him now; Alex can feel his regard. Alex looks at the knife’s finelyhoned, silver blade. He turns it, watches the light glint off the slim, sleek surface. Slowly, deliberately, he lays the knife on the cabinet, next to the sink. He unbuttons his shirt, takes it off. He dares a look at Liam. Liam is still watching him, and he has loosened his grip on the edges of the shower curtain. The two halves of the curtain have moved apart, and Alex can see Liam’s strong, wet, naked body through the gap. Alex’s cock leaps to attention as he sheds his trousers, his shorts. The vampire says nothing. Just watches. Determined to stay the course, Alex picks the knife back up. He grabs the shower curtain, right next to Liam’s hand, and gets in. Liam steps back to make room. Still, he says nothing, but his eyes on the glint of the knife blade are hungry. Alex gives him a hard, direct look. “She didn’t understand,” he says. “She said I couldn’t give you what you want. What you need.” He puts a hand on Liam’s shoulder,

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turns him around. “What she didn’t understand is that I want those things, too. Need them. And I don’t think you understand it, either.” He runs the edge of the blade across Liam’s back, shoulder blade to waist. Blood wells from the shallow cut, but is washed away almost immediately by the shower. Still, Alex bends in and licks the line of the wound, sucks at it. His mouth fills with the metallic tang of Liam’s blood. God, it’s good. The big, wide, familiar body goes taut as he licks up the blood from the middle of Liam’s back, up to his shoulder. He reaches around to find Liam’s cock thick and erect. He curls his fingers around the heavy shaft, presses his chest against Liam’s back. With his free hand, he draws another thin line with the knife blade, across the back of Liam’s neck. He attaches his mouth there, sucks hard. Liam moans. Alex has never heard Liam moan like that before, and it sends a harsh stab of desire through his body. He sucks harder at the wound on Liam’s neck, the taste of blood thick and primal in his mouth. He scrapes his teeth over Liam’s skin, bites, and Liam gropes blindly for the wall, to keep himself on his feet. It gives Alex a heady feeling of power to know he has Liam completely under his control. The vampire has pushed himself against the wall and is whimpering -whimpering -- with need as Alex sucks at his skin. Liam pumps his cock through the curl of Alex’s fist, hard and fast. Alex digs his teeth in, and suddenly it’s as if Liam has lost all control, his fingers digging into the wall until the plaster shreds under them, his hips pulsing in a hard, violent rhythm. “God, Alex…” His voice cracks, and Alex slides the slim blade down Liam’s side, watches the blood well and listens to the music of his lover’s broken, needy voice. He bites hard at the back of Liam’s neck, hard enough to draw blood. Liam’s cock jumps in his hand and he feels the vampire’s balls tighten, drawing up behind his fist -Alex pulls back abruptly, leaving Liam right on the brink. Liam collapses against the wall, gasping. “Alex --”

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“You want it, come get it.” His tone is teasing, but his motivation is deadly serious. Liam isn’t truly going to understand this unless he takes this final step. Alex eases back. The water is starting to lose its warmth; they’ve overtaxed the hot water heater. Liam gathers himself against the wall, drawing his arms in, his heavy breathing easing, finally going still. The wounds Alex inflicted have healed already, except for the bite mark on the back of his neck, which still oozes blood. Alex stands waiting, turning the knife in his hands. His heart patters high in his chest and his breathing is shallow, and suddenly he’s not sure if he’s aroused or afraid. Both, he thinks. That’s what makes it so good. Abruptly, Liam turns around. His teeth are sharp against his lip. He grabs Alex by the shoulders, pushing him backward. They tumble back together, over the edge of the porcelain tub, tearing down the curtain as they go, and landing hard on the carpeted floor. The shower continues to run, the water cooler and cooler. Alex absorbs the shock of Liam’s body landing squarely on his. Liam looks down into his face. Up close, the fangs are slim and sharp and wicked, and in his lover’s eyes Alex can see the edges of Liam’s ever-present darkness. “Are you sure you understand?” he asks quietly, his voice straining with the effort to control it. “Yes,” Alex replies. “I’ve been you, Liam. I understand this. I want it.” Liam nods. Finally, Alex thinks. Finally he trusts me to know what I want. The vampire grabs Alex and flips him over unceremoniously. Alex’s face mashes into the carpet. He’ll have rug burns tomorrow, among other things. Liam spreads his hands across Alex’s back, wiping the water over his shoulder blades. The carpet under them is drenched. He feels Liam’s lips against his shoulder, then the fangs. But Liam doesn’t bite him. He traces the sharp edges of his teeth over Alex’s skin, then softly licks up the blood.

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Alex flinches at the pain, but it arouses him more than hurting him. It’s more than he expected, and yet exactly what he wanted. And Liam’s tongue on him… His body is suddenly flooded with need, with desire. For this, exactly this. Then he feels Liam’s lips against the point of his shoulder, as Liam kisses him, and says softly, “Is it okay?” “Yes,” Alex manages. It’s okay that Liam does what he wants to do; it’s also okay that he still needs to ask first. Liam’s body presses Alex into the wet carpet. His hand finds Alex’s and loosens his grip on the knife. He takes it from Alex’s hand. A moment later, Alex feels the tip trace across his shoulder, so delicate, barely parting the skin -- and then Liam’s tongue, licking softly. The sensation is incredible. Some small corner of his mind wonders if it’s related to the composition of vampiric saliva, but the rest of him is focused on the fact that it’s definitely related to the twitching hardness of his cock. Liam draws another line across his back with the paper-thin blade, sucks, licks up the blood. Alex moans, clenching his fists into the drenched carpet. “God, Liam… God…” He had no idea it would feel like this. So fucking good… Liam sucks hard at his lover’s violated skin and then draws back. Big, gentle hands turn Alex back over, and suddenly he is staring right into Liam’s deep, dark eyes. Liam ducks his head and kisses him, deep and thorough, his cool tongue awakening every corner of Alex’s mouth. Alex grabs Liam’s hair, maneuvering his head. At the same time, he shifts under Liam’s weight, opening his thighs. Liam’s hips settle down between his legs, his cock rubbing into Alex’s. Liam pulses his hips, careful. He gives Alex the knife. Alex just stares at it a moment, unsure. Then he takes it. He doesn’t have to be told what Liam wants. He knows. He slashes the knife across Liam’s wide chest. Blood wells in dark, ruby droplets above Liam’s right breast. Alex stares at the blood. It’s a beautiful color -- rich, translucent garnet, clinging to Liam’s broken skin. Liam wants him to lick it off, Alex knows, lap it up, drink it

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down. And while this thrills him in a dark way he can barely acknowledge, he’s not sure he can stomach it. Not yet. Instead, he slips his thumb over the wound. Liam’s eyes go blank with blind lust. Alex puts his thumb against Liam’s lips and Liam suckles it in, eagerly drinking his own blood. Desire shoots through Alex in a harsh spear. He drops the knife and reaches down to wrap his hand around Liam’s cock. Liam gasps, his head sagging over Alex’s shoulders. Alex draws his hand along Liam’s thick length. Liam is still for a moment, then shifts. He takes Alex inside him so fast and so hard Alex isn’t sure how he does it, but he’s enveloped, deep inside, and the tight clenching of Liam’s body on him is so intense he can barely stand it. Liam is moving on him, and Alex grabs him, clenching his hand hard into his shoulder, thrusting into him. As hard as he can, and he hears Liam’s voice rise, wordless, needy. Alex looks into Liam’s face, but Liam’s eyes are closed. Alex shoves into him. His hand on Liam’s cock squeezes too hard, working him. Liam’s thrusting through Alex’s fist, and Alex is thrusting into Liam, and the rhythm isn’t quite coordinated but it works, and suddenly Alex feels his body let go; at the same time Liam shudders and moans and comes all over Alex’s hand and his belly, thick, cool, white come pouring out of him. Finally, quieting, he bends into Alex, kisses his mouth, his throat, his shoulders. Slowly, Liam opens his eyes. He’s loose and languid on top of Alex, and it’s a good feeling, having him there. Alex reaches up and strokes his face. “She was wrong,” says Liam, and there is wonder in his voice. “Yes.” There’s no other answer, nothing else to discuss. He presses his face against Liam’s chest and breathes in the warmth. “Take me to bed.”

*** Alex plans the funeral for the end of the week. He considers skipping it, even though he arranged it, but in the end he feels like he should go. It’s his father, after all, and there’ll be so few people there, anyway. It’s only afterward that he realizes there

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was a reason why he scheduled it for later in the evening. Only when he asks Liam if he’ll come with him. Liam says yes, of course, and the night before the funeral they’re on a plane again, three hours in the air in the middle of the night. Everyone else on the plane is sleeping. Alex can’t sleep -- he’s tried, but he slept most of the day, as usual, so he’s wide awake. When Liam says he’s going to the bathroom, Alex just nods at first. Then he realizes Liam is poised half out of his seat, just looking at him. And then he realizes Liam doesn’t really go to the bathroom. Ever. The vampire’s eyebrow is quirked, and a smirk curls his lips when Alex says quietly, “Oh.” “Oh,” Liam answers, sly, and heads for the restrooms at the back of the plane. Alex settles back into his seat, heart pounding. He should wait a few seconds. A minute. Not quite a minute. Enough time so that it doesn’t seem suspicious. How the hell is it not going to seem suspicious if he gets up and goes into the same bathroom where Liam just went? He glances around surreptitiously. The flight attendants at the back of the plane seem uninterested; one is frowning intently over a sudoku puzzle book, while the other reads something on a pocket PC. He swallows, stares at the closed door. The green “unoccupied” sign is still visible in the slot next to the lock. Slowly, trying to act normal and probably not acting normal at all, he unfastens his seatbelt and slips out of his seat. Liam grins when Alex opens the door and slides into the tiny bathroom. It’s barely big enough for one adult male to stand up in to piss, and Alex isn’t at all sure how two adult males can maneuver in the space to fit pieces of themselves inside each other, but he’s willing to give it a try. Liam, however, appears to have done this before. He hasn’t been on a plane, though -- maybe he’s gained experience in bathrooms in boats or buses, and maybe Alex doesn’t want to think about that right now because it’s distracting. Liam shifts in the stall and slides Alex right up alongside him. Somehow it doesn’t feel like they’re wedged into the space so much as perfectly arranged, pieces set

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into a puzzle. He still wonders how they might accomplish anything other than standing belly-to-belly, but the musings fade when Liam’s mouth presses against his, tongue tracing Alex’s lips until Alex opens his mouth and lets him inside. If this is all they do, mouth to mouth, tongue to tongue, Alex will be satisfied. It’s sweet and intimate, then hard and passionate, as Liam’s hands push up his back under his shirt, fingers digging in along the lines of Alex’s shoulder blades. Then Liam strokes his fingers down Alex’s stomach. A fingertip dips into his navel, then traces down to his belt line. Deftly, with thumb and forefinger, he unfastens the snap on Alex’s jeans, eases down the zipper. Alex’s hips jerk forward as cool fingers slide under his waistband. Liam barely eases the press of his chest against Alex’s as he slides his lover’s jeans down his hips. He strokes Alex’s cock, which has risen to hard, insistent attention, runs his thumb over the head. He still holds Alex steady with one hand against his back, but his hips tilt to allow space for him to unbuckle his own belt and push his own jeans down until they are not only chest to chest, but cock to cock. Alex braces his hand back against the edge of the sink, holding himself still. There’s enough room -- barely -- for what Liam wants to do, but not if Alex tries to push forward too far. He lets Liam lead. As if sensing Alex’s wordless acquiescence, Liam makes a soft sound in the back of his throat. His lips press against Alex’s jawline, nip at him, then his teeth touch Alex’s skin. He closes one hand around their erections, sliding them together. Alex bites back a moan; he doesn’t want to make any noise that might attract the attention of the flight attendants. Liam’s hand pulls back, and Alex starts to protest, then realizes Liam is reaching for the small pump dispenser of hand lotion next to the tiny steel sink. When his hand wraps around them again, it’s slick, and Alex’s erection slides sweetly against Liam’s, slips neat and easy through the curl of the vampire’s hand. This time Alex can’t hold back the small gasp of needy pleasure. Liam shushes him with a soft laugh, then presses his mouth to Alex’s throat again as his hand moves more quickly on their aligned cocks.

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Alex tips his head back, exposing more of his neck to Liam. Liam licks the line of Alex’s throat. “May I?” he whispers. “Yes,” Alex murmurs in return. “God, yes.” Liam tends to their erections for a few long seconds, still mouthing Alex’s throat while his hand moves along the hard lengths. He thrusts through his own fist, shallow thrusts which Alex answers as best he can in the limited space. It’s enough. The deepening layers of need have spun together low in his belly; it will take so little, now, to finish him. His balls are hard and tight and already pulsing when Liam presses his lips hard against the pulse in Alex’s throat, and then bites him. The needle-sharp fangs pierce his skin so cleanly that he barely registers the pain. Then the arousal hits, hard and fast behind the quick sting of penetration. Liam’s mouth pulls at him, and Alex is lost. He climaxes so hard, so completely, that the sensation seems to come from his entire body, not just the insistent pulsing between his legs. Every cell orgasms, every millimeter of his skin. He grabs at Liam’s shoulders, trying to hold himself steady and silent as his body jerks and pounds. And just as it hits the highest, most impossible peak, just as Alex is certain he’s going to lose consciousness there in the tiny airplane bathroom, Liam draws his mouth away from Alex’s throat and kisses the wound gently. Alex can only hold himself upright, grounded against the bulk of his lover’s body. Liam kisses his neck, his jaw, and finally his mouth, the tang of Alex’s blood bright on his lips. “Love you,” Liam says softly. Alex tries to return the words, but he can only nod. Liam chuckles. “I’ll go back first,” he says. “You stay and find your feet.” He starts to edge toward the door, but Alex’s hand tightens on his arm, holding him still. “Not yet,” he manages. “Not quite yet.” Liam sobers. He nods, and wraps his arms around Alex and holds him until he’s ready to go.

***

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The funeral is a small affair. Alex is there, and Liam, and roughly a half-dozen other people Alex doesn’t know. The minister who leads the service never met Alex’s father, knows nothing about him. Alex is unable to contribute very much to help him, either. The service, performed over a closed coffin, is generic and bland. The strangers in the small group prove to be second cousins, an aunt, and coworkers. The aunt is ebullient about meeting Alex, then suddenly seems less interested when she notices how far into Alex’s personal space Liam keeps himself. The coworkers make awkward attempts at introduction and consolation. Alex accepts them as graciously as he can, and is relieved when he can finally leave them all behind and retreat to Liam’s arms. Liam takes him straight back to their hotel, tosses him down on the bed on his stomach and straddles him, massaging his shoulders with an expert touch that leaves Alex limp and quietly content. After a few minutes, Liam stretches out on the bed next to his languid lover and strokes his hair. “You’re a beautiful, beautiful man,” he says, a smile twitching his mouth. Alex blinks sleepily. “Yes.” Liam chuckles, leans forward to kiss him. “You’re stuck with me now. Do you know that?” Alex returns the quiet laugh. “Yes.” “Good,” says Liam, and with daylight creeping through the closed curtains, wraps himself around Alex and falls asleep.

Elizabeth Jewell Elizabeth Jewell is the author of a growing collection of paranormal and contemporary erotic novels and novellas. She’s been writing since before she could read, and has given in to the fact that she’s completely addicted to the process of composing fiction -- especially hot, steamy, paranormal fiction. Elizabeth lives in Colorado with her kids and a hyperactive ferret named Spike. You can visit her website at http://elizabethjewell.kabeka.com and read her blog at elizabethjewell.blogspot.com.