“How do you know…ah.” The lightbulb flicked on in Mercer’s head and he really wished it hadn’t because he could not unseethatpairing now that his imagination had grabbed onto it. “Well, this is…”
“No, no, I understand,” Anthony smiled. “A vampire needs to feed, after all. Besides, you must like someone on which to try out all these very specific toys you create.”
Rahil said something to the effect of, “That’s not,” and “We’re technically,” but then he was staring at Mercer like Mercer was meant to continue the explanation, and all Mercer’s brain could do was fix on the idea thatAnthonywas envisioninghimwith Rahil and sink into ever deeper circles of dismay.
Anthony broke the awkward silence by clearing his throat. “Unholy gold then, you’re calling it?”
“Yes,” Mercer responded on instinct. His brain clicked into customer service mode. “It’s a 22 karat base with all the same attribute-reduction properties of holy silver, but it produces none of the damage.”
He lifted his lockbox onto the bench and opened it mechanically, ignoring its other contents as he retrieved the little case with the unholy gold. As he lifted it out of the container though, Rahil took hold of his arm, his grip shaky.
“Can I speak with you in private?” he hissed, his tight smile clearly forced.
Mercer blinked. His gaze shot to Anthony, who seemed too preoccupied with his curiosity about the unholy gold to be curious about this too.
But—shit—Anthony.
As the dots connected, Mercer cursed himself for not stepping in when Anthony had made assumptions about their relationship. Of course Rahil wasn’t just any old vampire Mercer had picked up for a good time. He’d been agreattime, truth be told, and more than that, Mercer hoped they were moving in the direction of a heartfelt forever. And he was proud of that. Rahil deserved toseethat pride.
Slowly, Mercer nodded.
“Sure, babe,” he said, choosing the pet name on purpose.
It only seemed to make Rahil more uncomfortable, though.
But why? What was—did Rahil have more feelings for Anthony than—but no, no he’d said all his previous dates had been primarily quid pro quo. He’d talked about the loneliest whale. There had to be something else going on… Mercer just couldn’t figure out what.
His mind tumbled through options, pulling in one after another, each worse than the last, and as he walked Rahil out of the shed and around the side to a more private space near the forest, the swelling of his heart collapsed slowly into confusion and dread.
31
RAHIL
Mercer loved him, too.
Rahil swore he’d whispered it last night in the darkness—and yet the gap in Rahil’s heart that had been waiting, aching, for those four words had rejected them so long as Mercer didn’t know the truth. It wasn’tthistruth, either, but somehowthiswas the truth that seemed to loom larger, more intrusive and leering. If they couldn’t work this out, what hope did they have anyway?
As he watched Mercer fight off the stony pinch of his usual solemn mask, his anxiety clearly bubbling beneath it, doubt nudged at the back of Rahil’s mind. What if this wasn’t the right choice? Pushing this topic now, telling Mercer about the circumstances around Leah’s death later—or not having told him last night, damn whatever joyful oblivion Mercer had asked for. What if this was the moment that sparked the end of their momentary relationship, and he was setting light to the fuse without even knowing it?
The fear brought with it a feeling he’d managed to push back, shove down, talk himself out of: he’d never had any hope for a thriving relationship, even if the other person in it was as kind and stable as Mercer. Even if Mercer accepted this and forgave him for his part in Leah’s death, Rahil would fuck something else up. He’d push Mercer off the deep end or fail to pull him back from it. He’d corrupt his relationship with his daughter or corrupt Lydia herself.
Someone would end up dead, his darkest thoughts whispered.
But he had a terrible, awful feeling someone would end up dead now too, if he didn’t stop this transaction from going through.
“We can’t give that man our unholy gold.” Rahil cringed as he said it, already regretting everything he’d ever done in his life and knowing that now that the words were out, he was trapped in them.
“What?” Mercer’s brow tightened, a pained look crossing his face. “But we’ve made it. It’s ready. He’s here. I thought you were on board with this?”
“I thought I was too.” Rahil couldn’t tell if that was a lie or not. Hehadoriginally decided this was a good idea, but maybe he’d been, at least in part, blinded by the idea of being in Mercer’s shed and feeling his touch, day in and day out as they worked on it. He shook his head. “But this particular scientist—I don’t trust him with it. I wouldn’t give him access to something that could be this devastating to vampires.”
“Because you slept with him?”
He didn’t think Mercer meant it as a low blow, but that was how it hit, between the ribs and into the gut. “No—yes. Because of the way hewaswhen we were together.” Rahil found himself baring his fangs without meaning to, lips pulled back and jaw wide. “I know when someone’s fetishizing me. I know when they don’t have my welfare in mind—I see it all the time, in most of the men I sleep with.”
“That doesn’t mean he can’t do good science with it,” Mercer protested. “He’s not always the most pleasant person, but he has done charity work like this before.” He sighed, rubbing at the front of his face. It only seemed to make his brow more knotted. “Dr. Hilker helped Lydia when no one else could or would. He spent months of his free time producing something that would keep her from dying, and worked for years after that perfecting it until she could live a mostly normal life. He may be a bastard, but he’s a bastard who helps people.”
As though summoned by their hissed conversation, Lydia’s voice rang across the backyard. “Daddyo?”
