“You—”
From the side yard, Lydia’s music volume lowered. “They double-booked the field,” she said, voice closer with every step. “So we did some stretching and got let out. Mx. Tanner says we’ll reschedule.”
Nota sudden and terrible injury then. Good, good.
The relief Mercer felt was contrasted in Rahil’s face, though, as shock, then panic transformed across it. He pulled aggressively at the cord on his trapped wrist.
Mercer was so confused that it took him an extra second to actually hit the trap’s unlock. Rahil was free and across the barn in a blink, pulling himself onto the tables and toward the cracked window above the shed door, his muzzle already discarded.
What the…
“So, can I, um, can I help in here?” Lydia called in, knocking on the side of the shed as she moved toward the door.
Mercer wanted to be overjoyed that she was asking at all—she was asking and Rahil was leaving, doing his best to stay out of view of her—but the speed at which he was attempting to abandon the space seemed so peculiar that Mercer just stood there in shock instead, watching as Rahil slipped on his first attempt through the window. Rahil thudded against the wall, scrambling back up just as Lydia strolled through the doorway. She stopped, squinted, and pushed her beanie back a hair from her forehead.
“What’re you doing here, Ray?” she asked.
Rahil’s throat bobbed. His lips pulled back in an uncomfortable grin, and said, “Hey, kid.”
13
RAHIL
And things had been going so well, too.
Not perfectly—Mercer was still not flirting back, nor touching him more than necessary—but their on-and-off banter and the occasional brushes of skin he did receive were as good as Rahil could have possibly expected, teasing ruthlessly at both his body’s desire and his slowly mounting blood hunger. Better still, the emotional depth their conversations were hitting forged something deep and lovely in Rahil’s chest, and as much as he knew it would make the pain of losing Mercer hurt worse later, he couldn’t help but bask in it now. He had not realized how much he’d needed to get off his chest; how long he’d hidden these things that weren’t even properly secrets, for lack of someone close enough to tell them to.
And then it turned out Mercer had a kid. Which wasn’t a problem, because Rahil would never meet this kid. Would never get the chance to screw them up the way he’d ruined his own. It was all fine, good, dandy.
The moment he’d heard her voice though, with that snarky little edge that was trying so hard to seem older than she was, Rahil had realized just how wrong he’d gotten it. Rahil already knew Mercer’s daughter. He’d made her do his chores and let her fall asleep on his roof and told her that life sucked.
Andshethought he was testing her in order to turn her into a vampire.
Oh fuck.
Rahil felt the bottom fall out of his stomach and he suddenly wasn’t so hungry for anything—blood or body. His fingers felt like putty, and his legs were moving of their own accord—and not always the ways they should have—which made the sill of the shed’s escape window no longer quite within his reach. As he slipped, his heart leaped into his throat. Tunnels latched around the edges of his vision, focusing in on Violet’s shocked face. She asked him something, and all he could manage in response was, “Hey, kid.”
Then he fell again.
The next thing Rahil knew, he was on the floor, a pair of hands wrapped around his arm—small hands, gripping him just as tightly as Mercer had while Violet shouted, “Ray!”
“Lydia—” Mercer said from behind, like he meant to tell her to get back, as though Rahil was some wild animal that might attack once he was conscious enough.
Wait,Lydia?
Huh.
Her little hands did vanish then, replaced by Mercer’s large, calloused ones as he lifted Rahil’s shoulders. His fingers brushed along the side of Rahil’s head—a misplacement, surely. “Rahil? Are you hurt?”
“I only fell out of the window,” Rahil grumbled, but he didn’t really want to move, because moving meant losing Mercer’s touch and facing whatever came after. But that very touch became more insistent and with his vision clearing, he could see the worry on Mercer’s face. It was so tender. Rahil forced himself to admit, “I’m fine, really. Just an inconvenient loss of consciousness.”
Mercer breathed out, but Rahil could tell he was trying to force himself to feel a relief that wasn’t truly accessible. “Leah used to call them that,” he muttered, then seemed to realize what he was saying, and the wall of stone fell back over his features. But the way that stoicism had gone and returned: it meant there was something beneath it. Maybe that there wasalwayssomething beneath it.
Rahil didn’t have time to dwell on that, because Violet—Lydia?—pipped in, “Youknoweach other?”
Merc turned his attention to her so suddenly that he nearly dropped Rahil, before proceeding to detangle himself from Rahil’s presence quickly enough that he might as wellhavedropped him. Instead of answering his daughter’s question though, he narrowed his eyes at her. “I’m more surprised to learn thatyouknow each other.”
Lydia-Violet looked like a deer in the headlights. Her throat bobbed, and her jaw clamped shut. Clearly sensing her refusal, her father turned his stare on Rahil instead. The moment his attention was off her, Lydia-Violet shook her head slightly.
