Page 31 of Map of Pain
The razor came next. Three passes with soap and hot water removed the worst of the beard, revealing sharp cheekbones and a jaw he’d almost forgotten he had. The face in the mirror looked more familiar now instead of the broken thing fromthe penthouse or the feral creature from the truck bed, but something approaching Nick Walsh.
This is who I choose to be,said that quiet voice inside him, the one that sounded like home.Not their victim. Not their weapon. Me.
He allowed himself a moment to study the stranger in the mirror. His cheekbones looked sharper without the beard hiding them, his jaw more defined. The hollows beneath his eyes remained, but something in his gazechanged. Less hunted animal, more... person.
The towel wrapped around his waist felt secure, but as he turned toward his clothes, realization struck. In his rush to get clean, he left the bag of supplies Lukabrought out in the kitchen. His dirty clothes lay in a heap on the floor—unwearable, crusted with blood and sweat.
The hunter tried to resurface with warnings about exposure and vulnerability, but Nick pushed it down. He wasn’t interested in tactical analysis right now. He just needed to solve a practical problem.
The shower curtain caught his eye with its hideous nautical pattern with faded anchors and rope designs. It would work.
He climbed onto the closed toilet lid, reaching for the plastic rings holding the curtain to the rod. His balance wavered, his center of gravity still unfamiliar with the missing weight of his left hand. He managed to unhook several rings before yanking the whole thing free with one decisive pull.
Nick wrapped the curtain around his torso, holding the plastic closed at his neck with his hand. The material crinkledloudlywith each movement, the anchors and sailboats making him look ridiculous, but it served its purpose.
He cracked the bathroom door, peering into the hallway. Empty. He stepped out, the shower curtain rustling like leaveswith each movement. Three steps toward the kitchen and he froze.
Luka stood in the living room, dripping wet with a towel wrapped around his waist. Water droplets slid down his chest and shoulders, tiny soap suds still clinging to his skin. His hair hung in wet strands around his face, darker when wet. A trail of water marked his path across the wooden floor.
They stared at each other for a frozen moment. Luka looked startled rather than threatening—his eyes wide, body tense as if ready to flee. He’dclearlyrushed from wherever he’d been bathing, leaving puddles in his wake.
Nick recovered first, his practical mind cataloging the obvious: Luka was wet,in a towel, looking concerned rather than predatory. The vampire pointed to his ears and made an expansive gesture with his free hand, eyebrows raised in question.
“I didn’t have enough towels,”Nick explained.“Needed to get clothes from the bag.”
Relief washed over Luka’s features. He crossed to the duffel bag on the counter, retrieved two items of clothing for himself, then approached Nick with it.
Nick tucked his chin down to hold the shower curtain closed against his chest, extending his hand to reach the bag without letting the plastic slip. The awkward positioning made the exchange clumsy, but he managed to keep himself covered.
“Could you... not look?”Nick asked, hating how the request sounded but needing the boundary.“While I change?”
Luka nodded, turning to face the wall without hesitation. Something in his expression looked reluctant, though he didn’t pause to protest.
Nick clutched the bag to his chest, retreating back toward the bathroom. As he changed into clean clothes—soft, worn jeansand a faded t-shirt that smelled like laundry detergent—he found himself wondering about that look of reluctance.
The hunterimmediatelysupplied sinister possibilities, but Nick shut it down before it could gain momentum. The quiet voice inside offered a simpler explanation,Maybe he just wanted to make sure you were okay.
Nick finished dressing and headed back to the living room. Luka still faced the wall, pulling on a shirt, giving Nick an unobstructed view of his bare skin before the fabric covered it.
There were scars. Dozens of them scattered across Luka’s back and shoulders. Some formed crude patterns, others looked like puncture wounds, thick and puckered. None had the precise quality of more deliberate work. These were brutal, utilitarian marks of pain.
Luka said turning didn’t heal what was already there. These scars predated his transformation. Someone hurt him—badly—before he became a vampire.
Questions burned on Nick’s tongue, but he held them back. Not because of fear or conditioning, but because he recognized the moment wasn’t right. Instead, he cleared his throatsoftly, announcing his presence as Luka finished dressing.
Luka turned around, hands held out at waist level where Nick couldeasilysee them. The deliberate carefulness of the gesture wasn’t lost on Nick—not threatening, not hiding anything, just present and aware.
His eyes were that mesmerizing mixture of jade and emerald green, warm with something that looked like delight as he took in Nick’s cleaned up appearance.
Nick became aware that Luka was studying him with equal attention, something appreciative in his gaze that made Nick’s stomach flutter. He averted his eyes, heat rising to his cheeks.
This is normal. This is what it feels like to be human.
Luka waved his hand, catching Nick’s attention. When Nick looked back, the vampire gestured toward hisnewlyshorn hair and clean-shaven face, his expression curious and questioning.
“Does it look bad?”Nick asked, the words escaping before he could stop them. The vulnerability of the question surprised him, but it felt... honest. Real. The kind of thing someone might ask when they cared about another person’s opinion.
Luka’s face lit up. He began signingenthusiastically, his hands moving tooquicklyfor Nick to follow, but his excitement was unmistakable. His smile widened as his fingers danced through signs Nick couldn’t understand.
