Page 21 of Wolfgang

Wolfe nodded but didn’t bother to elaborate any further.

Well, at least that explained why Eric couldn’t figure out who the culprit was. He hadn’t really had “fate-designated vampire stalker” on the list of options, now had he?

He rubbed at his forehead. It was starting to get tiring, this pull to be closer to Wolfe on the one hand, his general pissed-off-ness on the other. “Tell me why people call you a psychopath.”

Wolfe stirred his blood calmly. “Because I believe I am one.”

“You’ve been officially diagnosed with ASPD?” Eric asked skeptically.

Wolfe shot him an almost amused look, the corners of his mouth tilting up only the slightest bit. “I haven’t. But there are characteristics. I’m perhaps not as impulsive as some of my like. Too aware of the consequences from a young age. But I’ve always been different.” He started ticking off symptoms like the items of a grocery list. “Lack of empathy. Inability to form emotional attachments. I don’t generally feel fear, not that I can remember, at least. And I don’t feel guilt.”

There it was. “So you don’t feel bad about what you’ve done to me?”

Wolfe cocked his head, clearly considering his words. “I regret the challenge it will bring to our further connection.”

“You should be a politician, the way you talk.” Eric supposed he should be grateful Wolfe wasn’t sugarcoating it and lying to protect his feelings. But rather than gratitude, the anger he’d been having such a hard time locating rose to the surface, strong enough to make his muscles quiver. Wolfedidn’tfeel bad. At all. and maybe that wasn’t his fault, if guilt wasn’t something he was capable of. But it sure did leave Eric feeling shitty, that so much had been taken from him in one single moment, and his fated, destined boyfriend couldn’t give less of a shit about it.

If Wolfe was aware of his anger, if he felt it through the bond, he didn’t show it. “You should eat” was all he said, pouring the heated blood into a wineglass of all the fucking things.

Eric found himself reaching automatically for the glass, shivering slightly as their fingers brushed during the exchange. With warm blood in front of him, he realized hewashungry. It was just kind of secondary to that other feeling, that itch to be close to Wolfe, even when anger had him bristling.

All the while, Wolfe maintained unblinking eye contact. Eric could feel it even as he lowered his own gaze to study the red liquid. He was about to drink blood. Human fucking blood.

And what was more, Wolfe clearly wanted to watch him drink it. Maybe he wanted to see the change come over Eric. Maybe Wolfe’s inner beast wanted to meet Eric’s, the way Eric’s inner beast seemed to be yearning every second to be closer to Wolfe.

But all that did was make Eric not want to show him. The anger was still going strong, speeding his pulse in a way where he couldfeelhis heart pounding. That Wolfe could change Eric’s life so suddenly and be so completely goddamn unperturbed about it? Hand him blood in a wineglass like he was offering him a particularly lovely Chianti? That fucking sucked. It wasn’t fair.

So Eric protested the only way he felt he could. “Don’t look,” he ordered.

Wolfe’s only show of surprise was a slow blink. “I’ll close my eyes.”

Did he really think Eric was that easy of a mark? “No. Turn around.”

The flash of irritation—both on Wolfe’s face and through the bond—proved to Eric that Wolfehadintended to cheat. No guilt, right?

Eric raised his glass and motioned with one whirling finger for Wolfe to do as he asked. The amount of pleasure he took from the huff of irritation he got in return was kind of absurd.

Once Wolfe had his back to him—surprisingly broad shoulders, for such a slender man—Eric let his vampire face back out the way he had in that room with Danny. It was even easier here, with Wolfe in front of him and the coppery scent of blood in the air. Eric’s beastwantedto come out.

Eric took a large swallow. Because hey, if he was going for it, he was going for it all the way.

And oh, that was good. Like, really fucking good. It reminded him of the first real meal after a really long shift, one of the ones where he didn’t get a chance to eat any lunch at all. Satisfying on a whole different level.

He drank the rest down quickly, trying to figure out how he felt about it. He still didn’t feel quite…sated. He wasn’t hungry anymore, but there was still that…itching under the skin. It was really, really hard to push the beast back down. It wanted to reach out, wanted to run their fingers along those broad shoulders, to breathe in that bergamot smell. To fucking bathe in it.

No. We are not doing that. We aremadat him.

Eric could almost hear the beast’s huff of irritation at those thoughts. But it retreated eventually, Eric’s regular face shifting back into place. And Eric just stood there, empty glass in hand, not sure what to do next.

Wolfe’s shoulders twitched, the only sign of his impatience. “May I turn around now?”

“Oh.” Eric reached up, just to double-check that his teeth were back to normal. “Okay. Um, yeah.”

Wolfe frowned at him slightly when they were face-to-face again. “Your vampire face is nothing to be ashamed of, Eric.”

“I’m not.” It wasn’t like Eric had processed any of it enough to be ashamed about anything.

“I see.” Wolfe’s gaze traveled over every inch of him again, slowly enough that it was practically a physical sensation, and eventually a small smirk graced his lips. “You wished to deny me something,” he surmised.

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