Page 237 of Golden Eagle

“Oh, please, you prefer an audience,” Alexei tried to quip, but it fell flat. Severin’s stare made him want to squirm.

“Severin,” Dante said, disengaging from Alexei and getting to his feet, his voice bright with false cheer. “You must be as exhausted as the rest of us. Would you like to lie down for a bit? I’m afraid I don’t have a fold-out, but the sofa is marvelously comfortable.” When Severin only stared at him, he said, “Or, you could take my bed. Alexei and I won’t mind camping out here.”

Severin didn’t respond – but did finally blink, so that was something.

“Sev,” Alexei said, and earned the boy’s gaze, eyes widening a fraction at the shortening of his name. “Are you tired?” Maybe it was best to keep things simple until he learned how conversation worked.

He earned a few more blinks, and a reflective gaze, as Severin considered. Then he said, “Yes, a little.”

“You should get some rest before tonight – we all should. Do you want to lie down out here? Or in the bedroom?”

More consideration. Then a quick shrug. “Where do you want me to lie down?”

Dante made a little bitten-back noise of dismay. This whole situation just got more pathetic all the time.

“Why don’t you stay out here,” Alexei said, getting to his feet. “We’ll leave you alone. Give you some quiet.”

Severin nodded, but his body swayed forward, as if he wanted to follow Alexei.

“Stay,” Alexei told him, like he was a dog, belly squirming with distaste.

“Let me get you some blankets,” Dante said, sliding into host mode. “And you can take your shoes and coat off: more comfortable that way.”

Alexei didn’t linger. He headed down the hall to the bedroom, plucking a half-full bottle of Cabernet off the glittering drinks trolley on his way.

Dante’s room was as he’d left it in the wee hours: drapes pulled shut, letting in only faint slivers of daylight, the bed rumpled, smelling of sex, of Alexei and the woman he’d been with last night. Her scent – human, and a stranger – disgusted him, suddenly, and he stripped all the linens off. He was piling them up in the corner when Dante slipped quietly into the room.

“Ah,” he said. “I’ll be back.” He left, and returned a moment later with a armful of fresh, crisp linens. “Here, help me do the sheets.”

They worked in silence, smoothing fine Egyptian cotton over the mattress, tucking the corners in tight and putting the pillows in new cases. Dante had even brought a fresh quilt, soft and lavender-scented. When they were finished, they folded the covers back, and Alexei turned to get the wine.

He took a few long pulls straight from the bottle, standing up, and toed his boots off without bothering over the laces.

“Forgive me, because I know you won’t like it much right now, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention it,” Dante said.

Alexei turned to find the other vampire in the process of undressing, shirt gone, thumbs hooked in the waistband of his jeans as he worked sinuously side-to-side to get them down his hips. He was all slender, sculpted muscle, a figure that belonged in marble, bare with only a drape on his hips, expressive face drawn with anguish, long arms reaching. Something tasteful and classic in a museum.

Alexei allowed himself a moment of appreciation and then started on his own clothes. “Mention what?”

“Our young Severin seems to think he owes you his allegiance. You are a good kisser,” he said with a tired, half-hearted smirk. Then grew serious again. “You don’t have any Familiars.”

“Really?”

“He’s powerful. A binding could be beneficial for both of you – and for our cause.”

Alexei sighed. He wouldn’t lie and say he hadn’t considered it – but only briefly, in a do-I-dare sort of way. He’d considered the ways it would guarantee Severin – unpredictable and frightening – would stay loyal to him, that he’d mind him. And the binding itself might be a reassurance to the boy; help him adjust to the real world, give him an emotional stability he sorely needed.

He hadn’t ever had a Familiar…but he didn’t share Nikita’s loathing of the idea.

“I’ll think about it,” he said. “But I don’t want to talk about it now.”

Dante nodded. Clad only in his black briefs, he slid into bed, propped up on his side, on one arm. “Will you share?” He reached out a hand – maybe for the wine, maybe for Alexei himself.

Alexei kicked his jeans away and climbed in, passing over the bottle.

He’d been unbearably tired out on the couch, but now, in clean sheets, fortified with a few swallows of wine, he felt annoyingly awake.

Dante took a long swallow and rested the bottle between them, holding it loosely, licking a few stray drops off his lips. “It isn’t just me that’s troubling you,” he guessed.

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