Mercer lifted the bag carelessly by one side. “You sure?”
In response, Rahil opened his mouth, his tongue partially extended. His fangs were so slim and lean above it.
“What do you take me for?” Mercer grumbled. He stepped closer, and instead of placing a chip in Rahil’s mouth, he opted for the saner option and pulled out his phone, navigating to the trap app. “Careful now, you’re going down hard this time,” he said, clicking the button for release. He caught Rahil at the last moment, letting the vampire’s gangly weight ease into his arms.
“You have no idea,” Rahil whispered as his gaze met Mercer’s with a yearning so deep that it almost pulled Mercer in.
Almost.
He looked away, efficiently lowering Rahil’s shaking body to the floor. He let go as soon as Rahil seemed steady enough to lean against the cupboards on his own, but Mercer could still feel the pressure of him shivering through his skin. It wasnotcalling him back. He wouldn’t let it.
He stepped away, trying to shake the feeling off. And stepped again.
Rahil watched him, his brow tight and his hands pulled up against his chest. Cautiously, he turned his attention to his fingers, wriggling them and hissing quietly under his breath, a sound more similar to a cat’s than anything humans could make. Mercer could see the pain in each movement, the stiffness and shock Rahil was clearly working through.
It made Mercer feel faint.
He tossed over the bag of chips, a little less concerned as Rahil managed to snatch it out of the air with ease. If his shaking body hadn’t been proof of his own stupidity, then the obvious hunger with which he dug into the snack was evidence that he hadn’t exaggerated how long he’d been hangingfor.
Fuck, maybe Mercer was being too hard on him. Rahil was a vampire, after all, and Mercer knew, even from working with the more affluent of their kind, just how difficult and senseless that life could be. Sometimes irrational acts came, not from irrational people, but irrational presents and irrational pasts. Mercer knewthatfrom personal experience.
“You must live around here?” he asked, fumbling for some reason why he of all people might have suddenly become this useless vampire’s special interest.
Rahil stuffed another handful of chips into his mouth. His shoulders bounced languidly. “A couple miles south. I have a quaint little five-bedroom Victorian with all the trappings; the creepy attic, the dark forest, the shadowy porch. The fireplace is definitely haunted.”
He had a home of his own, at least. From what little he’d seen of Rahil, Mercer could imagine it, too: the Gothically romantic old estate, with crows perched on the roof and ivy growing along the porch. Every piece of furniture was probably pretending to be as antique as Rahil’s outfits. “Sounds charming.”
A quirk came into Rahil’s lips, soft and genuine. It was precious. “I love it,” he said, pausing to shovel down the rest of the chips. “I’ve always enjoyed unique things, and I wanted a place that was big enough to share with others.”
“That’s a nice reasoning,” Mercer admitted. His own place was designed to be a tiny fortress for himself and Lydia alone and he was impressed by Rahil’s willingness to allow others in. Though it probably went hand in hand with his apparent willingness to force himself into the lives of random strangers.
“Thank you.” Rahil licked the last of his chip crumbs off his fingers with such gusto that Mercer had to look away.
He was not avoiding the sight because it stirred something in him—did it stir anything in him? He couldn’t tell beneath the guilty twist in his chest and the turn of his stomach. The more he did look away though, the more he knew the sightwouldmake him feel things—good things—once Rahil wasn’t here, when his tongue was just a thought in Mercer’s head and not a reality. If he let it, anyway.
“Well, now that you’re finished…” Thank God his voice had not been hoarse; he could feel the lump.
Rahil made a sound far too much like a whimper. “You’re not kicking me out—with the sun this high?”
Mercer had to distract himself by opening his notebook. That only left the holy silver charm and a page of dead-end notes he’d made for Anthony’s project staring him in the face. The mere sight of it made him queasy with stress. What the hell hadn’t he tried yet? Surely nothing that could be done alone in his shed. “You’re not too far from home,” he told Rahil, distractedly. “You can take one of my old coats. I’ll call you a cab.”
“No, please,” Rahil said, turning almost sugary-sweet as he continued. “I’ll be quiet again, on my life, I swear. You can even tie me back up.”
Rahil wasnotmaking this easy.
It occurred to him suddenly that if Rahil truly refused, there was little Mercer could likely do about it. He didn’t burn under the touch of holy silver, was likely about as strong and fast as Mercer even in the metal’s presence, and Mercer hardly considered calling the police an option—he could predict how badly that would turn out forbothof them. But what Rahil didn’t do was try to lord his power over Mercer.
As he stood, he made himself smaller instead, wrapping his arms around his waist with his brows tight. “Please?”
Mercer played with the holy silver charm he’d left between his notebook pages, watching Rahil for a sign that this was all an elaborate ruse of some kind. He could find none. “You said I can put you back in the trap?”
Rahil’s throat bobbed. “Yes.”
“And then, I could do what I want with you.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. Rahil was offering to give up his power. His agency.
And instead of shying away from the idea, he was nodding, still looking at Mercer like some kind of fanged puppy-dog. “If you’d like.”
Mercer really, really did not need a stray right now, but as he pulled himself back from the emotions coursing through him, the pieces fell into place. Maybe Rahil wasexactlywhat he needed—not for himself, but for Anthony. Mercer was supposed to create a substance that acted like impaired holy silver, producing a radiation that would dampen a vampire’s inhuman qualities without destroying them cell by cell.
