Page 33 of Lucien

He bet it would be super hot, all that violence erupting.

“Don’t say that,” Luc scolded. “I don’t want to be…that part of myself. With you.”

Jamie cocked his head. “You know you don’t get to pick and choose what parts of yourself to keep, right? I get that you want to be suave, debonair, in-control Luc all the time, but you can’t just squash down all the other bits permanently. The monster is part of you too. For forever, it sounds like. Maybe you’d get further by accepting it instead of fighting it.” He nodded sharply in punctuation of this kick-ass wisdom that was pouring out of him.

Luc sighed. “Such insight from one so young.”

“Yeah, I’m super wise, aren’t I?” Maybe he should leave programming and look into a future as a vampire therapist.

But any insightful comment Jamie might add was interrupted by a yawn so wide he felt like his jaw was cracking. “Also super tired apparently.”

Luc pressed a kiss to the side of Jamie’s head, lifting the covers around him. “Enough questions for one night, then. Sleep, flower.”

Jamie dreamed of…twins. Redheaded, identical, fanged.

It was habit by now, when he had a vision, to attempt to place the location, the season. Any clues as to when or where they may be. But only the vampires themselves were in sharp focus, their surrounding settings a blurred fog.

Useless fucking visions.

Still, Jamie felt the cold clarity that came with one of them, so different from the fuzzy, muddled glimpses of a normal dream.

These strangers were real; he was sure of that. But he’d never seen another vampire in a vision before, besides his monster.

He wasn’t drawn to this pair in the same way; that was for certain. They were good-looking enough, Jamie supposed—tall and well muscled, dressed more or less similar to the frat bros that swarmed into town at the end of every August.

But it had never been about Luc’s looks, had it? It had been that…pull. That certain gut feeling that here was a part of Jamie, cut out and let loose into the world, and that one day it was going to find its way back. Luc’s evident loneliness had been further proof of that. They’d both been missing something vital.

They’d been missing each other.

Jamie memorized the details of these vampires’ faces. Not that they would be hard to recognize, with their shocks of red hair and indistinguishable looks. But were they friends or foes?

The vision guttered out, and Jamie felt darkness pulling him under.

He’d have to ask Luc in the morning.

nine

Lucien

Beautiful.Lovely.Precious.

Rip his hand off. Snap his neck. Drain him dry.

Luc rubbed at the bridge of his nose before downing another swallow of whiskey. Holy fuck, he was getting a headache.

His monster was bouncing back and forth between puppylike adoration and serial killer menace. The latter wasn’t directed at Jamie, of course, but rather at the other patrons who kept making eyes at Luc’s pretty human while he tended bar.

Like the grabby fuck with his hand on Jamie’s arm at that very moment. Luc was barely containing a violent outburst at the offensive sight. Wasn’t there some policy against drunk patrons manhandling the staff? There sure as fuckshouldbe.

Luc settled for clearing his throat noisily, taking immense pleasure in watching the blood drain from the man’s face as he looked over to where Luc sat at the bar, fangs glinting in the dim lights.

Take him out back. Drain him. Kill him.

Luc ignored his monster. All this humanity around was making it bloodthirsty beyond belief. Apparently its new sweet and obedient disposition only went so far, especially if their mate wasn’t giving them enough attention.

At least the man was backing off now, retreating into the corner with his unfortunate companions, looking rattled but not exactly pissing his pants in fear. Jamie had been right before: no one out there was looking for vampires to be real, so no one believed when they saw one right in front of them. They might think Luc was creepy, sure—and they weren’t wrong about that—but they didn’t think of him as supernatural.

Luc turned his gaze from the man with a death wish to the much more appealing sight of his mate mixing up cocktails on the other side of the bar, black T-shirt tucked into tight black jeans, green hair pulled up into a messy half ponytail.

---