Page 63 of Dragon Slayer

“No. But try.” Vlad leaned over to put the book on the nightstand, and then slid down until he lay on his back, head on the neighboring pillow. When he reached for Val’s hand, Val gave it up to him with hesitation.

Vlad’s mouth twitched; it could have been a rueful smile. “Here,” he said, and pulled Val’s hand up so that the palm was pressed to his forehead. “Take me walking with you. Into the past. I think…” A note of uncertainty stained his voice, foreign and unsettling. “I think we misunderstand each other.”

Dread and excitement flickered under Val’s skin; chased like lightning through his veins. “I don’t think I’m strong enough for that now. I–”

Vlad’s other hand was suddenly shoved under his nose, tipped back, the wrist exposed. Blue veins twined together like vines under his pale skin, throbbing with a strong pulse.

Val clenched his jaw and felt his fangs descend; saliva pooled on his tongue.

“Drink,” Vlad said, like a command. “And then show me.”

“You still think you’re the boss of everyone, don’t you?” Val huffed.

“That’s because I am.”

“Insufferable.” Val reached to curve his slimmer, more elegant hand behind his brother’s and brought the tempting wrist to his lips. He looked up, one last time, searching Vlad’s face for a lie or a trap. But Vlad stared steadily back, the same quietly encouraging face he’d used when they were boys in the training yard back home.

Home. Oh, he wanted to gohome.

He bit, slow but sure, and when his fangs pierced flesh, velvet blood welled up to fill his mouth.

The guards he’d drained a few weeks before had hit his starved system like a narcotic. But this was on another plane entirely. This was home, and brother, and family, and strength, such impossible strength.

He only took a little, until his skin was buzzing and his lips were throbbing and he thought he could have scaled the façade of the manner house with nothing but finger- and toenails for support. Then he eased back, licked the wound until it started to seal.

Vlad’s forehead felt warm and grounding beneath his other hand. “How far back do you want to go?” he asked.

“How far did you get with your mortal?”

Val sighed. “You know about her?”

“Everyone here does. The spell, remember?”

“Damn it.”

“Talbot sent minions to fetch her.”

“He–” Val made a flailing move to leap out of bed.

Vlad grabbed him around the waist and pinned him down, pressing Val’s hand tight to his forehead. “Later. Right now you need to show me.”

Val forced himself to take a breath. Vlad was right. If they were going to work together…

A hysterical laugh bubbled to life in his chest.

“What?” Vlad demanded.

“Nothing, nothing. Alright.” He resettled. They were closer now, close enough to see what Val had always known: that though they looked sometimes brown, or sometimes gray, Vlad’s eyes were in fact the color of hammered gold. Like a wolf. He would have made a spectacular wolf; vampirism was a genetic waste.

“Alright,” Val said again. “To Adrianople, then.”

Vlad bared his teeth in a silent snarl, but Val closed his eyes. Thought about going down, down…and then up, and thenback.

Back to the place where the real hell had started.

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