This time a little shudder ran through Rahil, but it didn’t seem like the typical pain-reaction, the slight hitch in his breath almost sensual in nature. The tone of his voice certainly was. “Oh dear, you’re going to have to try harder than that.”
Rahil’s smugness only served to make him all the more beautiful. It should have been illegal, Mercer decided. He did not want to keep noticing these things, keep wondering what it would be like to reach out, to follow the lines of Rahil’s skin the way the vampire clearly wanted him to. Mercer knew what that would end in—adisaster. Lydia was enough to worry about. He would not add a stupid, beautiful vampire to the list of people he’d inevitably grow some nonsensical attachment to the moment he let himself.
Based on Rahil’s dating profile, separating the emotional from the physical was second nature to him, but that had never been possible for Mercer, and when he was being honest with himself, he didn’t think he wanted it to be. If he was going to be physically intimate, he could only cross that line for someone he loved, and he didn’t have room to think about loving someone as a vague general concept, much less this specific stranger who’d fallen into his lap.
Mercer wiped the thought away, clamping down on it like even theideaof someday having sex again was immoral—a skill for which he had years of religion-imposed practice, even if he wasn’t doing much practicing of the religion itself these days.
He was not doing this to get a reaction out of Rahil, no. This was merely an artisan’s search for knowledge. Which was why he didn’t touch Rahil with his fingers as he ran the tip of the holy silver charm over the crest of Rahil’s high cheekbone, down the curve of his face. When Rahil breathed out a sigh, his mouth opened, and Mercer couldn’t seem to stop moving, feeling the light cracks the dry summer heat had left in Rahil’s lower lip through each tug and slide of the metal.
Rahil’s eyes closed for a moment, his lashes fluttering delicately. “Ah,” he whispered, “that tingles.”
Mercer pulled back. He flipped the charm into his palm, holding tightly to its heat and power as he tried to settle the eruption ofsomethingin his chest. “It really doesn’t hurt you?”
“There’s a… a sensation.” Rahil shrugged. “But it’s not bad. It’s sharp and hot, and a little euphoric. And my skin is fine afterward; you can touch it and see.”
That was a thrilling thought, which Mercer ignored with a vengeance. “My eyes do just as well, thank you.”
“Oh, so you’re admiring my form, huh?” Rahil teased, his shoulders shifting so that his shirt fell, impossibly, somehow lower.
Mercer had to look away in order not to stare. He slipped the holy silver charm back into its place in the drawer, shifting a few of the pieces around just to give his fingers something to do. “I admit you are distracting, though for very different reasons.”
The sigh Rahil released was tragic. “Fine, fine, I’m in the way, I get it. I could make it home now, if you’re willing to let me down.” He grinned. “Or don’t—you clearly have plenty of other torture devices at your disposal.”
Mercer followed his gaze to the bench of in-progress kink toys. For all his mind wanted to run wild, he kept his face stern, his voice as deadpan as if they were talking about the arrangement of his patio furniture and not sex. “Next time, perhaps.”
There wouldn’t be a next time, but Rahil’s expression was worth it: the soft surprise mixed with something very much like hunger. The vampire’s throat bobbed. “Yes. Next time.”
He still looked dazed when Mercer unlocked the trap’s app on his phone and hit the release. It let Rahil go slowly enough that he managed to pull his legs underneath him, but his limbs alone were clearly not enough to hold him up, his knees collapsing and his body slumping forward as he yelped.
Mercer moved on instinct. He caught Rahil’s tall, lean figure in both arms, wrapping one under Rahil’s shoulder and the other around his waist. Rahil leaned against him, breathing heavily. Mercer swore he could feel every inch of the vampire pressed firmly to his chest.
“Well…” Rahil’s breath fluttered over Mercer’s skin as he spoke, and Mercer was suddenly very aware of how close Rahil’s fangs were to his neck. “That was one way to get you to touch me, I suppose.”
Mercer stepped away from him so suddenly that Rahil yelped again, swaying before Mercer caught him by his arms, lowering him with far less contact onto one of the work stools scattered around the shed. “Easy there,” he murmured, one arm still supporting Rahil’s elbow.
Rahil laughed. It was such a soft sound, high and light and gasping. “I’m fine, I’m fine.” He winked, though his breathing hadn’t entirely steadied. “Perhaps your holy silver has some effect after all.”
Mercer narrowed his eyes on the area of Rahil’s face where the metal had touched. “Are you…?” He wasn’t sure what he was asking. The skin seemed normal, just as smooth and lovely a dusky brown as the rest of him.
“I’m fine, really,” Rahil replied, his gaze fixed on Mercer’s neck. “Though I wouldn’t pass up a drink, if you’re willing?”
Mercer could feel his own pulse pound in his veins. He stepped back. “You can keep your fangs in your mouth, vampire.”
“Or you’ll do what?” Rahil leaned forward, his pointed teeth exposed: not in a threat but a challenge, like he was begging Mercer to do something, anything, about them. But then he only laughed again, slumping a little against the bench behind him. “I meant water, Merc. I’ve had a blood meal recently enough—an entirely consensual one, if you’re worried.”
“I wasn’t worried. I’ve known enough vampires to not make judgements.”
Rahil glanced at the still-open drawer of gleaming metal behind Mercer. “Was that why you stopped creating the holy silver?”
Mercer had no reason to answer; did he truly owe that part of his life to a mere stranger, much less a vampire? But the longer he hesitated, the more he realized he wanted to talk about this. Perhaps it was how Rahil put himself out there in every way possible that set Mercer so at ease, or perhaps it was merely that there hadn’t been another adult in his immediate vicinity for this long in what seemed like a lifetime, but something felt right. Simple. Fated.
“I’ve never judged vampires,” he admitted. “I’ve struggled with biases, but I know the ins and outs of the ways our society abuses people for power and money, and I have tried my best to be aware of that.”
He breathed in, breathed out, and knew he could do it. A decade later, and he could finally, finally, say the words without shattering completely.
“But there is one vampire I hate, one vampire against whom I felt, for a time, like any amount of protection I could create was a necessity.” He stood there, staring at Rahil, but he could feel his body reliving that night, that ring of the doorbell, that drip of blood from Leah’s lips, as he said, “And if I ever find them, I’m going to thrust what’s left of my holy silver so deep into their throat that they’ll never bite anyone ever again.”
5
