Page 42 of Wolfgang

“You find your own emotions…subdued?” Wolfe asked, thinking that aspect of it a bit hard to believe.

“Oh, I feel lots of things!” Johann reassured him. “But Vee says there’re right and wrong ways to express those things, and I usually do it wrong. So in polite company, I put on my polite face, and voilà!” He waved his hand with a little flourish.

Wolfe debated, for just a moment, pretending. It would be easy enough to lie and complain of a similar affliction. Too many emotions rather than too few.

But if Wolfe played his cards right, one day he and this odd little man were going to be allies. And shared secrets were one road to intimacy.

So he meandered just the slightest bit closer, a false expression of chagrin on his face. “I’m afraid my situation is a bit different.”

Johann poured an appropriate amount of port into each glass. “Oh?”

“Have you heard of psychopathy?”

“Like a serial killer?” Johann didn’t sound remarkably concerned that the answer might be yes.

“Not quite. Serial killers are more often than not psychopaths, but the majority of psychopaths aren’t serial killers. Does that make sense?”

Johann nodded, setting the port bottle back down. “It does. I guess I’m a little undereducated on the subject. But that’s why you pretend?”

“That’s why I pretend.”

Johann cocked his head, considering. “I don’t think they’d mind though. The other den members. They’re all vampires. And they’re mean.”

Wolfe let his smile grow. “Theyaremean, aren’t they? But people also like to think those they consort with admire them. Are fond of them. Like if not love them, even. Those things are difficult for me. And I do so much want to fit in.” He allowed his shoulders to sag just a touch, trying not to overplay it. Johann was apparently not easily fooled. “You see?”

Johann nodded thoughtfully. “I do see.” He grinned at Wolfe. “Thank you for sharing with me.”

“Thank you for your discretion.” Wolfe had a moment of uncertainty, wondering if he’d come to regret this precedence of honesty with one so close to the key players in his personal game of chess.

But Johann clapped his hands together in excitement, more exuberant than Wolfe had ever seen him in the presence of the others. “I’ll do some reading on the subject. Then next time we’re alone together, I’ll have appropriate questions for you!”

The laugh Wolfe let out wasn’t entirely false. “How thoughtful of you, Johann.”

The little vampire flushed happily, turning to attend to the arrangements of his tray.

No, Wolfe didn’t think he’d regret it at all. He felt even a minute lessening of some constantly held tension, sharing a truth with someone like this. There was surely a delightful art to lies, to manipulation, to fitting in without genuinely caring for the people around him.

But perhaps some value also lay in being seen for who he was.

Perhaps he’d even found a friend.

fourteen

Eric

Danny’shouse—alittleyellownumber close to the hospital—was fitting for what Eric knew of him: cute, comfortable, and welcoming.

Danny had greeted Eric like an old friend and then sat him down in the living room with a beer while he, as he put it, “helped Roman fuss.” (Although, from the brief glimpse Eric had had of the guy—movie star good looks, strikingly bright, cold blue eyes—Eric couldn’t really picture Roman “fussing” over much of anything, but whatever.)

Wolfe had abandoned him.

At least for dinner. He’d claimed Eric would have better luck bonding with the crew if he wasn’t glued to the side of a psychopath, making everybody nervous, and then when Eric had been poised to protest, he’d claimed he needed to feed anyway and would join them later for dessert.

Which, okay, that should be a good thing, right? Eric was finally in a physical and emotional state where he could tolerate some space, and now here he was, getting that space. All it had taken was approximately ten thousand orgasms over the course of one night.

And great. Now his brain was replaying images of clever fingers and a wickedly talented tongue. Eric shifted on the couch, trying not to get a boner before dinner. Although, to be honest, it had been more than just the physical part that had left him so wrung out the night before. The mate bond was really something else; that was for sure. Eric had been able tofeelhow turned on Wolfe had been, tasting him. Coupled with that fierce possessiveness Wolfe was always carrying around for him like some eternal flame? Beyond potent, to the point of completely overwhelming him.

The truth was, if Wolfe had asked to fuck him, Eric would’ve let him in a heartbeat. Which, big whoop, he supposed; it wasn’t like he was exactly virginal. He’d just never bottomed before. He’d somehow always thought that was for pretty, twinky guys. Eric wasn’t pretty, and he wasn’t anywhere in the realm of twinky, yet Wolfe seemedveryinterested in getting all up in there.

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