Page 78 of How to Bare Your Neck and Save a Wreck
Andres ran his fingers through Shane’s hair, cradling his head tenderly. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”
“It’s not your fault.” And the way Shane said it made it true somehow. “What was it you told me—you can’t brute-force your body into accepting something that’s hurt it in the past?You were right, at least according to therapists on the internet. These instincts of yours are just trying to protect you from what it knows hurt you in the past—things you should never have needed to protect yourself from in the first place.”
Andres sniffled, and it was all he could do to press his forehead to Shane’s, and not lose himself. “Thank you.”
Shane drew his hands soothingly up and down Andres’s back, and it felt like being known. “Whatever happens, I will keep being here, with you.” His smile was contagious. “I’ll protect you too, for a change.”
The idea of his Cygnus standing between him and Maul made Andres panic just a little. He hugged Shane tighter. “I like the thought of that, but I don’t know if it’ll work.”
“Someday it will.” Shane seemed so certain. And so willing. “For now, we’ll take it slow. You’ve been gentle with me. I can be gentle with you too, my love.”
That, Andres could believe, and it made his heart feel whole in a way he hadn’t known it could. A few fresh tears slipped from the corners of his eyes, and he laugh-sobbed, wiping them away. God, he had to look a mess.
Yet his boyfriend was watching him like he was the most magnificent thing in the whole world: a treasure. Someone to be gentle with. “Would it help if I asked before I touched you?” Shane asked.
“Not all touches matter. It’s mostly when you have to reach for me. Especially if you’re moving toward my wrists.” He paused, then whimpered. “I… I’ve been fucked up.God.”
“That’snotyour fault,” Shane repeated, putting emphasis on each word like he was prepared to crawl into Andres’s brain and slay his guilt single-handed. “And fuck them—fuck everyone who contributed to what you’re feeling now. You’ve gotten the better of them all, because you’re happy and you’re loved and you know thatyouarenotyour body’s impulses, even while they continue to happen. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes.” Andreswasloved, and hewashappy, and he could not deny that for a moment. “And when we’re home, I think Imight… maybe we can talk about this more? About Maul and my past, and everything. After we’re done here.”
“Of course.” As Shane stepped back, he kept his hand near his side, merely widening his fingers, palm angled toward Andres, and his lips turning in a little smug quirk as he asked, “For now, my love, would you hold my hand? We have a mission to finish.”
Andres took it, fingers twining through Shane’s, and even there, puffy-eyed and surrounded by his enemies, he had never felt safer.
28
ANDRES
Natalie and Anthony were now chatting with a group of what Andres could only assume were scientists by their fashion sense—or lack thereof—and that suited Andres fine, his eyes still red and his makeup a disaster. He kissed Shane’s hair and excused himself to the bathroom with a request that his boyfriend actually find them something to drink; he was probably going to need it in order to retrieve his sorely decimated confidence for the night. He dabbed his eyes as best he could and managed to at least smear the makeup into some semblance of normalcy, even if the silver and gold were now irreversibly mixed together, before heading back into the night.
The party atmosphere was in full swing, loud and bright and perfect for the start of a morally upright crime, if the criminal himself could only pull his shit together.
He was still on edge though, particularly now that Shane’s comforting presence was somewhere across the patio. While his partner’s attention had momentarily abated Andres’s recurring panic, it was already shooting warning shots up Andres’s spine. His fingers ached to be dragged through his hair once more. The tunnel vision of his contacts made the colorful outfits of the guests twist and blur in his periphery. It was amazing that he spotted Dr. Blood at all.
She wore a grey and white pant suit—so simple and clean it should have been illegal how perfectly she pulled it off—with her long, dark hair pinned back and a thick rope of gold at her throat that matched the gleaming line along the outside rim of her delicate glasses. Andres had expected to see her here—she’d been at the October costume gala, dressed just as simply, with the idea of a Frankenstein’s monster painted in silver threads across her fine features, accenting the angles of her face.
What he could barely process was the sight of a tooth-smiling Frederick Maul whispering in her ear.
Andres’s heart thrummed and his throat went dry as Maul clapped her on the shoulder like they were... not old friends, certainly, but at least estranged associates. Dr. Blood scowled. She didn’t push him off, though, didn’t call her security over. Maul stepped away with a casual wave and she just stared stiffly after him for a moment, before turning her attention to the next guest.
A horrifiedwhatechoed in Andres’s head, followed by awhyhe almost didn’t want to answer. He had to slink back into the crowd, to figure out what this meant—for him, for Shane’s article, for the blood trade, but too quickly Maul’s gaze slid over Andres. His expression turned stormy. He redirected himself toward Andres, his strides lengthening.
Andres fought down the instinctive fear that rose in his chest. He forced himself to keep his fangs concealed, straightening his shoulders and glaring. When he opened his mouth, though, Maul beat him to his own question.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Andres could have laughed if he hadn’t felt so broken inside. “I’m following your orders? You wanted dirt, I’m getting dirt.”
“Yougotdirt,” Maul snapped, too close for comfort. But Andres could not let himself take a step back. This was still just his boss; aggressive and cruel and responsible for compoundingAndres’s trauma into what it was now, perhaps, but also the grouchy vampire who’d been pushing Andres around for years now, and all that time, Andres had not let himself be cowed. He thought. “And it worked. You did your part;you can return to stealing me blood.”
It worked. The words rang in Andres’s head, a siren drowning everything else out. Far more calmly than he felt, he asked, “What do you mean, itworked?”
“Thanks to that specimen list you scrounged up, I convinced Blood to strike a deal with us. We continue to keep her lab’ssecretsa secret, and she gives us a say in what her people do while they’re on our streets.”
The way Maul saidspecimen list, like they weren’t murdered vampires, sent a shudder up Andres’s spine.
“Don’t look at me like that.” Maul snorted. “You know if this information got out, it could ruin Vitalis-Barron, but it could hurtustoo. Do-gooders will flock to vampire charities once activists get involved, flood the market with free blood.” Of course Maul’suswouldn’t be the sameusthat Andres used; it didn’t mean their community, but rather the two of them. The business. The blood trade. “Holding it over their heads is better than releasing it upfront. Thishelpsus. Now we get to choose who they take and who they leave, and if they step out of line, they know we can defend ourselves.”
