Page 48 of Map of Pain
Nick
Nick pulled the bathroom door shut and leaned against it, finally allowing himself to breathe. The cramped space felt safer than the room beyond, where evidence of last night lingered in rumpled sheets and the faint scent of their bodies pressed together.
He stripped off the pajama pants first, wadding them into a ball. The fabricwasstiff in places, dried remnants of whatthey’ddone together. His face burned as he stuffed them into his backpack.He’dfigure out laundry later—assuming therewasa later, assuming they survived whatever came next.
Ifooled around with a vampire.The thought hit him with the force of a physical blow.I wanted to. I made it happen.
The hunter stirred in the back of his mind, offering tactical assessments.Compromised position.Emotional attachment to target.Owen would call this textbook Stockholm syndrome.
He responded with something like wonder.It felt good. Safe. Like Iwaschoosing something for myself.
The jeans went on easily—snap closure, no fine motor skills required. But when he looked down at the pajama shirt he still wore, his stomach dropped. Tiny buttons marched down the front like a row of miniature enemies.He’dhave to get it off before he could change into the long-sleeve t-shirt Lukabrought him—the left sleeve already thoughtfully knotted at the end.
He tried the first one, pinching it between thumb and remaining fingers. The smooth plastic slipped away from the fabric. Again. His stump pressed against his ribs as he tried to anchor the shirt, but without a second hand to hold it steady, the buttonhole twisted away each time.
Fucking hell.Heat crawled up his neck. Last night, Lukabuttoned the pajama shirt with gentle efficiency, making it look effortless. Now Nick couldn’t manage even one.
A memory tried to surface—Gianmarco selecting clothes each morning—
No.Nick cut the thought off savagely.Don’t. Don’t compare them.
His hand trembled against the button, but not from that memory. Last nighthadbeen different. When Luka helped with the pajamas, it didn’tfeel like ownership or control. Itfelt like kindness.
The sound of running water filtered through the bathroom door, followed by the quiet hiss of a coffee maker. Domestic sounds that felt surreal after everything. Nick imagined Luka moving around the small space, probably giving him privacy to process whatever thiswasbetween them.
Another button attempt failed spectacularly. Nick gave up on them with a frustrated exhale. The shirt hung open, but at least he wasn’t naked.He’dask Luka for help—just practical assistance, nothing more complicated than that.
Because nothing between us two is complicated.
A different perspective emerged:Maybe complicated doesn’t have to mean bad.
Nick’s chest tightened with something dangerously close to affection. WhenhadLuka stopped being“the vampire”and started being... Luka? Someone who whistled Jupiter to help him remember himself, who created blanket nests, who asked permission before every touch?
This is insane,the hunter whispered.You’re falling for your captor.
He’s not my captor,Nick shot back.He saved my life. Multiple times.
Stockholm syndrome—
Shut up.The vehemence of his own response surprised him. The hunterhadgrownso much quieter since last night, as if pleasure freely chosenhadsomehow weakened its hold on him.
The submissive remained completely silent—an absence Nick found unnerving. For months, that whisperprovided constant commentary, reminding him to please, to anticipate needs, to avoid punishment. Its silence felt like missing a heartbeat.
He studied his reflection in the cracked mirror. Same face, same scars, but something fundamentalhadshifted. His eyes looked different. Less haunted. Still tired, still wary, but with a spark of something that might have been hope.
I made a choice last night. I chose him.
The coffee maker gurgled to a stop. Nick squared his shoulders and reached for the door handle. Time to face whatever came next.
He stepped into the main room and spotted Luka by the small kitchenette area, electric toothbrush in hand, a dab of foam at the corner of his mouth. The vampire looked up as Nick emerged, jade eyes taking in his half-dressed state. No judgment in that gaze, just patient attention.
Nick’s prepared words died in his throat. Luka looked so... normal. Human. Standing there in rumpled clothes with toothpaste on his lips, he could have been anyone. A boyfriend helping out after a rough night. Someone who cared.
Boyfriend.The word sent electricity through Nick’s nervous system. He’d never had a boyfriend. Never had anyone who touched him with permission instead of ownership. Was that what Luka was? What they were building together?
Is that what this is?
“I, uh—”Nick gestured helplessly at the pajama shirt.“The buttons are...”
