Page 54 of How to Bare Your Neck and Save a Wreck
His back still felt bruised from the shove, but the jarring shock of it was as painful as any physical malady. The surprise and horror that had crossed Andres’s face when it happened, like they were just as hurt as Shane had been…
Finally, Andres’s text came through—not a long message after all, but four words that spoke louder than any essay.
Andres
Can I come over?
A chill ran down Shane’s skin, disquieting and uncomfortable and yet still yearning. Always this goddamn wanting, like his body had tuned itself to his vampire that first night they’d met and with every bite since the thrall had grown. Anger or not, fear or not, part of Shane belonged to his vampire, not just for better, but for worse too. No matter what happened between them, a part of him always would.
But he still had to be rational. He had to.
Shane
I don’t know.
He leaned against the wall, watching the text sit there. No response dots. No pressure.
He hated it.
A knock came at the door.
Shane jumped. He tried to steady himself, but he still shook, like the extra adrenaline was determined to course through his system in a terrible repetitive cycle. His fingers glided over the chain. Before he could second guess himself, he slid it into place. Calmly, he opened the door a crack.
“Shane,” Andres started, pushing forward.
The chain caught, snapping the door to a stop.
Andres froze. The four inches of their face that Shane could see through the crack transformed, descending from confusion to horror to shame. They let go of the handle. “I see.”
“I can’t, not yet.” Shane leaned against the wall beside the door, staring into the gap. Even now, he wanted so badly to reach through it. “I don’t know how to say no to you otherwise.”
“Oh.” Andres’s mouth moved through the sound, and seeing his face with it, makeup smeared and eyes puffy, was like an entirely new experience. “If you tell me to leave, then I’ll leave. Otherwise I’m going to keep being here. You’re… mine.” He seemed to hesitate over the words, testing them out, tastingthem. When he repeated them, they felt different from any time he’d said them before, not a claiming, but a revelation. “You’re mine, Shane. I’ll never see you again, if that’s what you ask of me, but your safety, your joy, your passion, will always feel like they’d been mine to protect. You’re mine, and I’m failing you.”
“Of course I’m yours,” Shane replied, because goddammit, it was still true. This night had, if anything, set that in stone. “But you are failing me. You lied to me. You twisted my feelings around your finger and I know two of you now but I don’t feel like I know you at all.”
“I’m sorry.” It sounded sincere—so desperately sincere. “I did lie by omission; I tricked you—I wore the mask and made sure not to meet you as more than your vampire. But I never meant to manipulate your feelings. What I’ve shared with you has always been the truest parts of me. I’ve meant everything I’ve ever said to you, as your vampire and as your friend.”
That stung, but the burn faded warm, bringing relief with it. The way Andres had made Shane feel—the fire of his gaze and the intimacy of their texts; that wasn’t a lie, at least. Shane folded his arms tighter to his body. “You hurt me. On the boardwalk.”
A flash of terror spread across his face, but it was gone as soon as it had come. “I didn’t mean to react that way. It won’t happen again. I would never… I promise to only ever be gentle with you.”
That Andres meant always to be gentle was the truth; Shane had known it before he’d even known Andres, and while it hadn’t stopped whatever came over him on the boardwalk, that aggression felt like the fluke, not the routine. Even flukes had reasons, of course, but if Andres claimed he was handling himself, then Shane would believe him until proven otherwise.
“Don’t make me go.” Andres watched Shane, his brow tight and his gaze soft yet hungry. “You can ask me anything you’dlike. I’ll answer truthfully. Or you can ask me nothing at all. Just let me be here. Lock me out if you must, but don’t make me leave.”
“Andres…”
“I know, Shane. And I’m sorry.”
Shane couldn’t find a way to say no to him, and as the adrenaline left his body, he found he didn’t want to. His knees went weak. He slid down the wall, settling onto the floor.
Andres watched him, fingers on his lips, then running through his hair, before both hands clutched behind his neck. Slowly, like he was testing whether the weight of the floor would hold him, he settled there and slumped against the door. The light of the little apartment porch set shadows across his beautiful face. Two little fangs peeked out between his lips.
Shane didn’t make him leave. He stared, and, quietly, he commanded, “Tell me something.”
“Something true?”
“Something you.”
