MERCER
Mercer was half tempted to leave the damn fool up there and walk right back out: to let Rahil hang in the trap he’d re-caught himself in until he used his oh-so-precious whimpering to vow never to be anywhere near Mercer’s property again. It would serve him right. Besides, with Anthony’s new project utterly kicking his ass—Mercer had made so little progress over the last week that if he didn’t have an epiphany soon, he’d have to bring in help—and vaguely threatening emails from William Douglas showing up in his inbox on the regular, Mercer had too much work and worry to cater to an unhinged stranger’s whims.
As he turned away though, the pitiful noise Rahil made did something to Mercer’s heart that he could only describe aspainfulandexceptionallyunwanted.
“Merc,” Rahil whined.
He closed his eyes, and slowly, so slowly, he turned back around. “Ah, fuck.”
As he flicked on the lights, Mercer could clearly see the strain this was putting on Rahil’s body. He hung at an awkward angle, his fingers swollen on one hand and his skin raw where the cords held it. Shivers racked through him, the whites of his eyes shot with red and a sweat stain down the front of his gothic-pirate inspired shirt.
“I hate you,” Mercer muttered. He pulled the lever to lower the wooden flaps over the shed’s window—that, at least, would prevent any immediate further injury—but he refused the impulse to release Rahil completely. In distress or not, he was a two-time home invader now. Mercer gave the vampire another slow once-over, and managed to keep the jittery worry in his chest—either for himself or for Rahil, he wasn’t sure—from slipping into his voice as he asked, “What the hell are you doing here, Rahil?”
“I just figured I had such a lovely time last week,” Rahil answered, shifting to wink at Mercer head-on. His bonds tightened from the movement, and the self-satisfied expression turned to a wince. “I wasn’t here to take anything, I promise.”
That, Mercer felt he could believe. But it clearly wasn’t the full story. “Alovelytime, huh? Was it the entrapment that did it, or the hunter threatening me, or some magical third thing? And don’t say my hot body.”
Rahil had the decency to look mildly embarrassed. “Partially that, yes. But I also figured, with how intrusive that Douglas fellow was last week, and you not reading my messages...”
Mercer nodded slowly, putting the pieces together. He was still trying to determine whether the picture it revealed was one of impulsiveness or just pure stupidity. “So, you trapped yourself in my shed, in case something had happened to me, because then you’d be in the optimal positionnotto come to my aid, and probably die here to boot.”
“Exactly.” Rahil grinned halfheartedly. “As the kids these days say, I go down with my ships.”
It took Mercer a moment to connect the pun, but when he did he had to stifle a groan. What would his kid call them?RahcerorMerhil, maybe.
Mom-replacement, dad-hoarder, betrayer—there were a lot of other nicknames Lydia could come up with, he was certain. Mercer tried to focus on that above all else.
“You could have just knocked,” Mercer said.Hewas going down withthisship: the one where logic and common courtesy prevailed.The smith and the jester,was also a viable option. Or maybe,The disinterested and the flirt.
Rahil shrugged, looking far less concerned than he should have. “I thought this was more fun.”
“Fun.” Mercer didn’t buy it. Either Rahil had a truly masochistic streak or… or sometimes the most obvious answerwasthe right one. “How long have youbeenhere?”
“Only since sunrise.”
The immovable object and the unstoppable force—that was it. A terrible ship name for an impossible situation. Mercer stared at Rahil, trying to make out any lick of sense he could. “I mean no offense by this, but seriously, what is wrong with you?”
“I ask myself that every day.” Rahil gave a lopsided smile, which didn’t quite fit the rest of his pained appearance, and said, bluntly, “Really, this is far from the worst situation I’ve deliberately fallen into.” He licked one of his fangs before adding, “The biggest inconveniences are that you’re here and I’m famished... which means I’m being tortured by one rather incredible snack.”
Mercer’s neck felt like it was on fire, and all the bundled worry he’d had for this—for Rahil, for himself, for the situation—flared into a singular panic. He took a step back, despite knowing that the vampire was fully contained. “My holy silver might not work on you, but I can find something that will.”
Rahil blinked, before his eyes widened. “Woah, hey, I did meanfoodhungry.” He laughed, sounding a little awkward. “I’m just teasing about you being a snack. I’m a stupid flirt; it’s what I do.”
A rush of embarrassment ran through Mercer’s cheeks as he realized this was the exact same mistake he’d made last time Rahil was here. Maybe Rahil was being vague this way just to fuck with him? No, that was silly; vampires needed to eat and drink just the same as any human and Mercer couldn’t expectthemto be the ones to have to clarify simply becausehetook issue with the idea of being bitten.
Though, if he was being fair, Rahil deserved half the blame simply for choosing to act this coy. And be this good looking. And—he stopped himself before making an excuse regarding what Rahil waswearing, his Victorian-esque shirt so thin it was nearly see-through, with those same tight pants and what Mercer swore was a different pair of tall boots from the pair he’d worn last week.
“Too caught up in other things to grab breakfast?” Mercer taunted him, trying not to think about how Leah used to zone in on a project—ones with much the same absurdity and ingenuity as the trap Rahil had chosen to fall back into—for days at a time, only pausing to eat when Mercer brought her something. She’d always looked so beautiful with smears of grease on her hands and her red curls sticking out from the sloppy bun where she’d tucked pencils and small tools. If he was comparing the two scenarios, that would make Rahil’s projectMercer. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Or, more accurately, he was sure: sure that it shouldn’t have made him feel this pleased.
Rahil played with the ruffles on the front of his shirt, straightening out the ones that had been squashed under the cords. “It wasn’t entirely my fault. Things keep coming up between me and the grocery store. You know, like the sun.”
Mercer really had to stop setting him up for answers that reminded him just where their power imbalance lay.
He knew better than to feed wild animals. He had a feeling Rahil was more a stray than a truly feral creature, but he couldn’t go around feeding the strays either—not unless he wanted to take them in after. All he had were reasonsnotto take in Rahil, and besides, with Anthony’s request looming over him, he had other vampires to worry about. Rahil looked so pathetically miserable, though…
Trying his best to appear disgusted by the thought, Mercer dragged his last mini bag of emergency chips from the nonsense drawer—barbecue, ironically his least favorite flavor—and made a show of popping it open. “This is all I have on me. But I can’t imagine you’d want them.” He stuck one of them in his mouth after, for good measure.
Rahil looked like he was literally salivating, transforming from a devilish sex trophy to an oversized puppy dog in a matter of seconds. “Oh, that’ll do.”
