Page 17 of Perfectly Petite Shorts
Nirgal called him that nightly. Peat wasn’t entirely certain what that word meant, at least not on the level Nirgal seemed to feel it. Peat would never be a vampire and, therefore, could never truly understand. Lacking any other way to describe it, Peat compared the feeling to that of bonding with a home. When a home-and-hearth pixie bound to a home, it was…everything. Every home-and-hearth pixie wandering the planet looked for that special place where they would be forever welcome.
Peat had finally found that here, at the château. A home he’d thought all but dead when he’d first walked its hollow halls now teeming with life. From the foundation to the tiled roof, the château pulsed with contented joy. Peat had done that. He’d taken the waning spark buried deep below and fanned its flames. Ever so carefully tending the fragile fire until it was nearly self-sustaining.
He’d moved into Nirgal’s crypt two weeks ago. It seemedthe natural progression and oddly the small, dark space felt homier than his third-floor room had. Nirgal’s space was still the beating heart of the house, and it welcomed Peat with open arms. No longer sparse, Nirgal allowed Peat to soften the edges of the space. The fireplace had to be cleaned of ash on a regular basis, the roaring flames within making the room warm and cozy. The enormous bed Nirgal slept in was comfy and welcoming.
The first day he’d spent with Nirgal had been…disturbing. Vampires really did sleep like the dead. Nirgal could be awoken—something the vampire claimed was new and due to Peat’s blood. Nirgal had begun teasing the sun a little. Just a hint of an exposed finger dipping into her rays. Peat had held his breath the first time Nirgal attempted such a thing. The smile stretching across Nirgal’s face when the sun didn’t immediately turn his finger to ash was worth all the worry. When questioned, Nirgal said the sun wasn’t painful. He claimed it was itchy.
Peat had no idea what to make of that. Sunburns were itchy, but he’d never found the sun’s rays on his skin itchy. Then again, he wasn’t a centuries-old vampire whose skin hadn’t seen the light of day in millennia.
Lost in his thoughts, Peat was surprised when Nirgal pulled him to a stop. “I believe this is the place.”
Peat glanced up, and his eyes widened in shock. He’d been so preoccupied he hadn’t noticed. How could he have missed this? “It’s…” Goddess, Peat didn’t know what it was besides “magical.”
Stepping away from Nirgal, Peat twisted and turned, his gaze wandering the wonderous area. “They did all this? By themselves?”
“I believe so,” Nirgal said as one of the little sprites said, “Of course!”
“It’s gorgeous.” It was more than that. The sprites haddecorated the trees. Colorful trinkets and bits of cloth hung from branches. Shimmering mirrors and reflective material joined the malae, giving the illusion that there were three times as many sprites lighting the area. Peat’s breath caught and tears filled his eyes. Spinning, his small wings fluttered with joy, spreading dust and making the area even more magical.
“We wanted to make it special.” One of the sprites flew forward, hovering in front of Peat. “It is an important day.” The sprite grinned and zipped into the air, spinning and looping before it flew to Nirgal, posting on his outstretched hand. “A beloved,” the sprite gushed. “We are a fortunate colony. A vampire who’s found his beloved and a pixie who’s bonded to the home we surround.” The sprite puffed out its chest. “We are a lucky colony indeed.”
Nirgal’s low chuckle filled the night air. The sound was easy on Peat’s ears. “I am the fortunate one.”
“Indeed, you are!” The sprite flew up, bopped Nirgal on the nose, giggled and flew off again.
“Spunky little things, aren’t they?” Nirgal said while stifling a laugh.
Peat closed the distance between them. “Spunky and ingenious.” Going up on his toes, Peat took Nirgal’s face in his hands, pulling the vampire down and connecting their lips. As with everything, Nirgal was ever so careful, making sure his fangs didn’t break Peat’s skin as they kissed. Pulling back, Peat’s eyes fluttered. “You don’t have to be so cautious. You won’t hurt me.”
“But I could.”
“But you won’t.” Peat stared into Nirgal’s crimson eyes. How could he have thought Nirgal’s gaze was emotionless when they first met? There was such a depth of feeling. Such a well of emotion. “You won’t, Nirgal. You couldn’t.”
Nirgal’s fingers slipped through Peat’s hair, languidlycarding through the ombre locks as his fingertips massaged Peat’s scalp.
“Hmm, that feels good. Everything you do to me feels good.”
Peat leaned into Nirgal’s hand, rubbing his face on the vampire’s palm like a cat. If he had an ounce of feline blood in him, Peat would have purred.
“Are you certain about this, Peat? I do not wish to rush you. We can wait if—”
“I couldn’t be more certain,” Peat reassured. He’d been doing that for the past few days. Nirgal had given him plenty of opportunity to back out or, at least, hold off on their bonding. “The only thing that has ever felt as right as this is when I bonded with the house.” That ceremony had taken place a little over a week ago. All of Nirgal’s nestlings were there, celebrating with them. The château had been overjoyed, and that happiness was reflected in every obsidian pair of eyes. Even a handful of blood donors had been present.
“It was a joyous occasion,” Nirgal agreed. “You’ve made our protective dwelling so much more than a house. You have turned it into our home.”
“The château just needed a little love.” Peat knew it was more than that, but it was the simplest explanation he could think of.
“Not an emotion vampires excel at.”
Peat wasn’t so certain. He had a feeling that well ran deep within vampires. While they may not show it on the outside, Peat was convinced vampires felt more deeply than many of the species or, at the very least, just as much. After all, they were once human, and humans were probably the most emotionally unstable species of all.
Fingers back to twisting within Peat’s hair, Nirgal’s smile was faint as he said, “Our home need never be lonely again.”
“And neither do you,” Peat whispered. “Not after tonight.”
Nirgal’s eyes widened, and his heart sped. It had been doing that a lot recently. Peat noticed the steadierthumpwhen he laid his head against Nirgal’s chest. Peat’s blood had done that, and it was more than a point of pride. It was everything.
“Are you sure your nestlings won’t be upset that we’re doing this alone?” Peat asked. He wanted their bonding to be private, but if Nirgal thought it was best to involve his nest, then he’d deal with it.
