Page 47 of How to Bite Your Neighbor and Win a Wager
“For vampires?”
The man lifted one brow. “You have a problem with that?”
“No, no, I—” Fuck, what was he allowed to say to a stranger without Vincent’s permission? “There’s this vampire I’ve been with recently, and I’m realizing there’s a lot I didn’t know about them. Not just in terms of kinky shit, but in general. It’s been kind of eye-opening.”
“Ah, I see.” His expression softened. “It took me a while to sort through all the facts from the myths myself. But you’ll get there if you work at it. Vamps aren’t much different from us when you really get to know them. Not so scary or mysterious, just people with needs and strengths and limitations like everyone else. And just like everyone else, you can treat them best if you understand those things.”
Wesley’s mind went to the conversation he’d had with Vincent earlier, to every half-right piece of media lore that had shaped his idea of vampires. Vincent was a flash of fangs in the night and a beautiful, growling predator that sent shivers down Wesley’s spine, but far more than that he was a gay man who couldn’t go to Pride because no one had thought to make it accessible to someone who couldn’t stand for hours in the direct sunlight, or perhaps someone hadn’t wanted it to be accessible in the first place and nobody had bothered to fight against that.
It sucks to be a vampire, doesn’t it?
Wesley cringed, his own ignorance already coming back to haunt him. And he still had so much left to learn. As daunting as it was, he felt no dread, only resolve. If this was how he could help Vincent, then he would cringe at his own ignorance a thousand times over. He turned back to the smith. “What do you know about the effect of the sun on vamps?”
“Sun-poisoning.” He slid the final wrapping into place around Leoni’s gift and tucked it into the box. “It produces some kind of toxic chemical in the vampire’s skin that’s then transferred throughout the body. It’s all a bit delayed and it’s hard to predict how long its effects will last, or how strong they’ll be.”
Wes followed the smith back through the workshop, blinking against the brightness of the sun as they left the building. “And there’s no way to avoid it? Or fix it?”
“A good sunblock can add a few minutes of initial protection and once a vamp hits the shaking stage, having a blood meal never hurts. A well-fed, well-rested vampire will always fight it off faster than a weakened one. But there’s no cure yet.” The smith handed over the package with a weak smile.
“Thanks.” It felt odd to leave a conversation with a stranger on such a melancholic note. Wes tapped the top of the box. “My friend’s going to love this.”
As he made his way back to the car, the man called after him. “This vampire of yours, you take good care of them.”
His use of neutral pronouns was a nice touch. It was so rare to not have someone impose their own assumptions about who Wes was and the gender of his partners—and he hadn’t even been wearing his rainbow string of beads amidst his teal and gold ones today. Wes grinned, the expression feeling genuine finally.
“I will.” He would. He had to. Without Wes, Vincent had no one else. Which was why Wes couldn’t tell him, not about Vitalis-Barron or the terrible trade Wesley had almost made: Vincent’s freedom, his life, for the company’s downfall. But still…
This vampire of yours.
That felt so goddamned right—too right to not be true. Maybe he couldn’t let Vincent in on the whole truth, but if he held onto this piece of it for much longer he thought he might combust from the pressure. As he settled into the car, he sent off the pictures he’d taken for Kendall. He didn’t hesitate after, quickly typing his decision out just to make it real.
LordOfTheWin
I’m going to tell Vincent that I like him tonight.
Wish me luck.
KendallCanoodles
I bet you ten bucks you don’t need luck for this.
LordOfTheWin
Deal.
Wes was pretty sure he’d just lost ten dollars, and there was nothing he could do about it.
18
VINCENT
The sun was still reaching for the horizon when Vincent banged on Wesley’s door. He’d spent the day dashing from one shelter to the next as soon as he could bear it, too obviously suffering from sun-poisoning to risk the busy afternoon buses. The pain had finally lessened, but in its place came a feverish shaking. He tried to conceal the trembles beneath an air of exhaustion and a little anxious bouncing. Wes still looked worried though as the man ushered him inside.
Vincent didn’t dare pull down his hood until the door had sealed behind him and the curtains closed. His shivers remained, vicious and aching, but in the safety of Wesley’s four walls they felt almost survivable. For what felt like the first time since the library, Vincent breathed out.
The relief brought an uncomfortable wave of jealousy with it. He pushed it down. He was here to feed on Wesley with nothing to offer in exchange but his venom. Blood was more than he should have been expecting in the first place.
Wes narrowed his eyes, squinting in the dimness. “Are you hurt?”
