Page 19 of How to Bare Your Neck and Save a Wreck
Andres settled on a calm but forceful, “I’m working on it.” Hehadfound the name of a vampire rumored to have escaped Vitalis-Barron’s laboratory and the diabolical experimentsthey’d surely been doing on her there, but try as he might, he couldn’t seem to locate her now.
“Work faster,” Maul grumbled, then, right on cue, “Something has to change soon. If it’s not Vitalis-Barron, then we need to switch our attention to that damn blood bank.”
Andres chose not to respond to that, running a hand through his hair instead. There was only so much he could argue without it pissing them both off, and the more pissed Maul grew, the meaner and less pliable he became, and the harder a time Andres had controlling himself or his emotions in turn. “Well, in the meantime, you feel like helping me hunt for a pair of keys?”
Ever true to form, Maul made a disinterested sound and took a step back. “I have actual business to see to. You can pick locks, so why bother.”
“I can’t pick them closed again. There’s an entire mystery sub-genre called locked door murders for a reason.”
“Right.” Maul clearly didn’t actually care about any of this, and somehow it only made Andres more annoyed and a little nauseated.
I’d like to see you do my part of the job, he wished he could snap.
Instead he straightened his shoulders, chin high and lips in the half-smirk that made his jawline sharp and highlighted his fangs. He was glad suddenly that he hadn’t chosen to wear any of the leather he’d inserted lace cutouts into and that he’d traded his glasses for contacts, despite the odd blur they placed on the edges of his vision. Maul could dismiss him all he wanted, but these days they were clearly equals in strength, if not in power.
Andres bared his teeth. “Have a good night, Maul.”
Maul’s lips peeled back. “You as well.”
He left without another word, the slam of his Mustang’s door followed by the rev of its engine. It sped by in a blur. Only asthe sound of it faded into the distance did something ease in Andres’s chest, his frustration fading to a lingering discomfort.
Andres stood there, staring into the darkness of the alley and breathing through his mouth, before he suddenly remembered—Shane.
He forced his mind off Maul and tugged his mask back on, moving toward the closet door. He slowed as he neared, listening. It was cruel not to let Shane out immediately, now that the threat had passed. But a part of him wanted to see: he had told his little swan to stay until he was retrieved. How long would he actually wait? One heartbeat, then another.
Not a sound came from anywhere in the abandoned building, not even the creaks of settling wood or the tiny scurries of mouse feet. The quiet broke Andres’s chest in two. Oh, fuck him. Shane had obeyed; he did not deserve to be tested like this. Andres forced some level of composure onto his expression and opened the door.
His Cygnus stood there, visibly shaking, arms tucked tightly around himself and one hand cupping the side of his neck, fingers drawn across skin like he was protecting himself from a bite. Ah, double fuck. Not only had Andres been talking about chaining Shane to his bed, but he’d been describing it to the vampire who had almost killed him—wouldhave killed him, had Andres not done something dramatic. And here Shane had been, having an anxiety attack alone in the closet.
“He’s gone?” Shane whispered.
“He’s gone.” Andres reached into the small space, and when Shane flinched, he didn’t let it deter him, gently folding a hand around his arm and drawing him out. “But we shouldn’t linger. He’s paying more attention to us than I’d assumed.”
For a moment, Shane’s anxiety seemed to grow, but then it eased out of him instead, the tight pinch of his expression loosening as he released a breath. He didn’t pull away fromAndres’s touch. “I could hear you in there,” he said, tipping up his chin. “What do you and Maul want from Vitalis-Barron? How are they connected to the black market blood trade?”
“That is not your business, my little swan.” He hoped that would be the end of it, that Shane might submit to him in this as easily as he had to Andres’s other demands, but he knew, too, that anyone intelligently curious and unwavering enough to catch Andres’s attention and refuse to let it go for so many months wouldn’t leave such a mystery alone.
“This is very much my business!” Shane replied. “If they’re impacting the flow of blood through the city—or the existence of vampires within it—then it’s important to me, and to the work I’m doing.”
That brought Andres up short. He paused just within the entrance, pulling Shane to a halt. Shane was smart enough to understand the black market, stubborn enough to track it down, but when all his other endeavors were gossip columns and quirky rating videos, Andres had just assumed… “You reallyarewriting an article on us?”
“Of course I am!” Shane’s brow tightened, and his tone went stony. “The blood trade, the existence of healthy consensual feedings, even the little vampire charity work that’s been done, has all existed in the dark for so long—”
“No.” Andres felt a kind of panicked hysteria rising in his chest at the mere thought.Danger, his every cell screamed. He fought to morph it into anger, to turn the bladed emotion outward instead of letting it weaken him, but just keeping his voice the dark, sultry version he’d been using throughout the night was growing harder. “The trauma this could cause for the vampiric community… if you draw the humans’ attention to us, to just how much of their blood we’re consuming and how many of us live in their streets, it’s not us they’ll be siding with.”
“You don’t know that,” Shane countered. “This isn’t Schrödinger’s trust. Vampires need this blood and hiding that fact doesn’t change it. Showing the ways the current system has failed you—maybe that can.”
“Who do you thinkmadethis system? You want to air out all our pain, our greatest vulnerabilities, in front of the people who put us here—for them to see how weak we are? You can’t.” Andres fought the urge to run his hands through his hair. “Besides, if Maul realizes what you’re trying to publish, he won’t let it happen. And I won’t be able to protect you.”
“That’s part of the problem.” Shane touched his neck again, his throat bobbing, and his palm slid flat against the skin, protective. A shield. “Maul wanted to profit off my death by selling my blood to destitute vampires who can’t even question where it came from because if they don’t accept what he offers, it’ll betheirdeath, and I’m only alive still because you were forced tobuyme like a blood slave.”
Blood slave.Andres had never used that word—would never have dared—even if the image it conjured held a tantalizing beauty: gothic castles and golden collars and utter satisfaction. He tried to feel disgusted at himself, mortified even, but his only emotion was a quickly-growing sense of the conversation slipping away from him. He could feel his breathing quickening, his confidence wavering.
He needed it back, needed, somehow, to regain the power he’d had at the start of their meeting.
Andres reached out, past the flinch that Shane gave, placing his hand over the one Shane had wrapped protectively around his neck. With gentle nudges and tugs, he pulled it away, letting his fingertips trail across his little swan’s pulse as he withdrew. “I bought you because I couldn’t watch you die. I won’t apologize for that, nor for taking what I paid for.”
The intake of breath that trembled out of Shane was nearly as delicious as his blood smelled. He lowered his chin but he did not try to back away. “Don’t you see my point, though? The system that the humans of this city—this whole fucking country and most of the western world with it—have put in place madepurchasingme look to Maul like a reasonable option, and means that for you the follow-through is a necessity. Because you can’t afford to buy blood now that you’ve spent your money on me, can you?”
