A mysterious stranger tells Roman the truth about his brother's disappearance and offers a helping hand.
WC: 1552 - Rated: T - CW: Discussion of vampires, feeding, and hunting
@royalityweek Day 1: Invitation
A standalone Royality story set in the same universe as Beside Me, Dee, and the upcoming Thrall.
-
It had been three months since Roman had last seen his brother. It had been three weeks since he’d last spoken to him.
And three days since he’d woken up to Remus’ final, rambling text.
Ro I have to try Ro nothing else has worked the meds, the shocks, none of it works. They say this helps and it’s gotta work it’s just gotta. I can’t go back I just can’t go back and I’m not gonna go back I’m gonna try this and I if it works when you see me again I’m healed
Roman didn’t bother with a photograph. His face was all he needed.
“Hey, I’m looking for my brother,” he pushed a smile onto his face as he approached a couple waiting for the bus. “He looks just like me, just with a mustache and—“
“Sorry, can’t help you,” the guy muttered, giving him a brief, tight smile. All lip and no teeth. He wouldn’t even meet his eyes.
The girl hanging on his arm was friendlier but just as unhelpful. “We really wish we could help,” she’d cooed, blown pupils revealing just how high she was. Her head rested on the guys shoulder and her eyes kept drifting over to his as she talked, drawn by a string. Their bus hissed as it slowed to a stop in front of them. “Hope you find him,” she purred, then let the guy usher her up into the bus.
“Thanks,” Roman muttered as he stepped back and the door closed in his face. He waited until the bus growled and tumbled down the otherwise deserted street. Nothing was open this late at night, but this was Re’s favorite time. Cool air, well, as cool as summer got in the concrete jungle.
And quiet. Re liked to joke that after last call and all the bars closed, fewer people in the streets made it easier for him to tell that the voices he heard were coming from his head and not passers-by.
Roman never thought the joke was very funny.
A door opened two blocks down and a splash of light and music spilled out into the night. Something was open. Roman watched a tall silhouette slink down the sidewalk, turning in profile before disappearing into the shadows. It wasn’t Re. But perhaps someone there had seen his brother somewhere? He knew it was a long shot, but he’d already checked every hospital, every morgue. After the second hospitalization, Re signed a blanket disclosure for him, so he knew his brother hadn’t been readmitted.
And the police? Once they’d pulled up his arrest record, the cops had been less than worthless, with the kindest of them hinting that maybe he should take Re’s disappearance as a gift.
As much as Roman didn’t want to find his brother in a fucking bar, it was better than not finding him at all and he hurried to the door. The front was clean, well-kept, and the heavy wood door and the brass handle was polished. The place was old, but not decrepit-old, more like… fine antique old.
He reached for the handle but before his fingers closed around the fingerprint free metal, an impossibly strong hand wrapped around his arm and yanked him into the darkened alley.
“Do you have a death wish?” a voice growled, incongruously soft baby blue eyes glinted back at him in the darkened alleyway.
“What?” Roman tried to pull away but the man’s grip was too strong. He stepped closer and into a pool of light bleeding from the streetlamps across the way. He was tall and… broad, dressed in a long grey trenchcoat and some kind of paramilitary-looking khakis, pockets bulging. He had some kind of knife thing strapped to one thigh, his hand hovering over it like he was just itching to shank him right there in the alley.
“Look, I… I don’t have a lot of money but just take it,” Roman tried again to pull away. The guy stayed centered and when Roman feinted in one direction, he wasn’t fooled, staying on him.
“Money?” The guy suddenly laughed and released his arm. “I don’t want your money. I’m trying to save your life. That’s a vampire’s den.”
“Those aren’t real, they’re—”
The door opened and the guy pulled him into the shadows, one hand coming up to cover his mouth. “Shh, and watch…”
A man and a woman emerged from the bar—what the hell was a bar doing still open after last call, anyway? They stood right under the streetlamp, giving Roman a good look at them. The man clung to her arm just like the couple from the bus stop, dazed and high, holding on to her like she’d hung the moon.
“Oh, my sweet…” The man whined and tilted his head, like he was enticing her with his neck. “Now, now, not out here… Emile would sooner stake me than let me take you outside.” She traced a line down his neck and the man shuddered under her touch.
What caught Roman’s eyes, though, were the two puncture wounds her hand revealed. “Let’s get you home, my sweet. I’m getting hungry again.”
The rest of their words were muffled under a haze of static as Roman sank down to the dirty alleyway. A high pitched keen filled his ears and it took a minute for him to realize that was him.
Warm, calloused hands closed over his and he gripped back reflexively, the guy’s hairy knuckles and the fuzziness on the backs of his hands oddly comforting. “Hey, Kiddo, just breathe for me, okay…” He squeezed his hands, inhaling slowly and deliberately. Roman tried to copy him, but broke into a panting sob.
“That’s good, that’s a good try…” The guy praised him anyway. “Try again now,” he murmured. His voice was low and strong, not whispering, but quiet words just for him. Roman realized he was speaking right next to his ear. He should be freaked out, he should push him away. But he just felt… safe. He tried again to copy his breathing and this time he could do it.
“Very good, that’s it…” he said and Roman slowly nodded. “No bloodsucker’s gonna hurt you with me around, okay?”
Roman lifted his head and the guy’s eyes widened. “It’s you, but…”
“You’ve seen me before?”
He leaned in, breathing deeply, almost like he was smelling him. The guy shook his head. “Not you…” he said slowly.
“With a mustache?” Roman scrambled to his feet. “You’ve seen my twin? My brother Remus, I—”
“Oh…” His face fell, sorrow and pity crumpling his features. “I’m so sorry. I…” The guy gripped his arms and Roman had the distinct feeling he was holding him upright. “I’ve seen your brother… he…”
The guy hung his head and the streetlight filtered through his blonde curls, giving him almost a halo. The rough tone clashed with the angelic softness and Roman was suddenly grateful for the guy’s tight grip on his arms as his knees weakened. “The bloodsuckers got him,” he finally said.
“What? No—” Roman shook his head. His face and neck grew wet and he stared back at the guy past blurry vision. “Where… his body? He’s not in the morgues… I checked… I checked every John Doe… No, I—”
“Oh, Kiddo,” he whispered now and pulled him into a big bear hug. Roman sobbed against his shoulder like a baby. After all this? A vamp got him? “There’s no body, Kiddo. They… they turned him.”
Rage burned through Roman’s veins. Vamps stole his brother, his whole family, and they didn’t even leave him a body to bury, to say goodbye to? “How… how do you know?” His voice shook. It couldn’t be true.
“I saw it happen, Kiddo. From the roof.”
"And you just watched!?" Roman pulled back but the guy’s iron grip kept him in place. “Why didn’t you—“
He shook his head. “By the time I saw—“
“How hard is it to see a vamp biting into a man’s neck?”
“You don’t understand… People come here to… to feed them. They… they like it. I thought… I thought your brother…” The guy swallowed hard, like he might be sick. Horror churned in Roman’s guts as realization grew.
He shook his head, rage freezing hard and cold in his chest. “No…”
“Once I realized, I jumped down, but I wasn’t fast enough. V had taken him.”
“I’ll kill him.”
The guy stared at him and Roman just stared back. “There’s nothing you could possibly say to change my mind. My brother and I fought everything together. When Re got sick, we lost everything. Everyone. All we had was each other. Without Re… without Re I have nothing. And nothing left to lose.”
“Not even your life?” The guy’s blue eyes pierced right through him, but Roman didn’t look away.
The guy stepped back but still wouldn’t let him go. A slow smile spread across his face. “Well, if you’re going after the most dangerous bloodsucker in the city, you’re gonna need help, then, won’t you?
When the truth about the thrall comes to light, the Hunters'—and the vampires'—will be forever changed.
Final chapter for @royalityweek, Reconciliation.
WC: 4354 - Rated: T - CW: aftermath of thrall (mind control) and a lot of fluff
A light rain misted down as they walked home, giving the streets a blurry, silvery glow. Roman hitched his bag onto both shoulders and took Patton’s hand in both of his own. “We’ll get you all cleaned up and comfortable,” he murmured, bringing up his love's knuckles for a flurry of kisses. Patton smiled back at him, soft and warm, but missing his usual energy. Especially after a successful hunt.
His battle must have been more difficult than he let on. Patton moved slowly as they made their way through the valleys of darkness between street lights but he remained vigilant, one hand holding tight to Roman’s, the other hovering near his stake.
Squeezing his hand, Roman nodded to himself. Only five more blocks and they’d be home. He would take care of him, get him warm and fed. By then, Luka would be home, too, and they could fuss over Patton together, cuddling in the den until he recharged.
The pair walked in silence for a few deserted blocks, then waited at a busier intersection until it was safe to cross.
Roman leaned close, nuzzling his cheek. Patton stiffened when he touched near the scratches on his jaw. “Are you sure you’re okay, Pat?” he murmured. The scent of Patton’s blood filling his nose was more enough to trigger a protective response, but it was laced with a sharp, sour undertone, something almost familiar. He couldn’t quite place it, but it smelled wrong.
“Better with you here,” Patton murmured, melting against him. His hands trembled, but then he straightened, smiling back at him. “Much better with you here, cookie.”
Blushing, Roman snuck another kiss against his cheek as the signal changed. His phone rang before they’d gotten to the other side. “It’s Luka,” he said as he picked up.
“Drac took the bait!” The other Hunter cheered as soon as the call connected.
Patton’s eyes widened, Luka’s words clearly audible to his preternaturally strong hearing. Roman grinned at him. “Are you sure?”
“We got him! He was spotted entering the bloodsucker’s den an hour ago. And his spawn followed just a few minutes ago.”
Stopping at the corner, Roman gripped Patton’s hand and nodded. “It worked! They all took the bait!”
Luka grunted quietly and the screech of metal on metal spilled out of the phone. “I’m there now, on the roof. How fast can you get here?”
~
Steam rose up from the Hunters’ fighting forms as they huddled together on the roof of Emile’s. Patton crouched between Luka and Ro, the battle-ready heat pouring off their bodies lending him strength.
When they’d gotten to the roof, Patton had adjusted his clothing and shifted before either could spot the puncture wounds on his neck. Always observant, Ro could tell something was wrong. Patton saw it in his eyes. Even now, those bright green eyes lingered on him, watching him almost as much as he watched the door to the bloodsucker’s little ‘bar.’
Luka watched him, too, sniffing the air. Undoubtedly, he smelled Drac's bite on him, but this close to the swarm of vamps in the bar below, Him included, Luka seemed to dismiss it. Patton wasn’t sure what he would do if the wounds hadn’t healed enough by the time they got home to disguise the stink of the Drac’s bite.
Without really intending to, he’d let his head rest against Ro’s shoulder. A low rumble vibrated through his love, easing the lingering ache in his neck. And the icy chains cinched around his chest.
The bloodsuckers weren’t supposed to be able to enthrall them. The wolf in every Hunter meant they were protected. But there was no other explanation for tonight, no other explanation for how Drac had gotten close enough to touch him, to kiss him, to feed off him….
Not without a stake in his chest.
Without warning, Emile’s door banged open and, amidst the chatter and the music pouring out of the club, three voices wafted up from the sidewalk below.
“Thank you,” one of them murmured. Drac’s spawn. His words were followed by quiet kissing sounds and Patton’s lips curled in disgust. "I'm so sorry, he's… He hasn't changed. Not one bit."
“You're not responsible for him, Love.” It was Ro’s voice, but wrong. Sharper, and equal parts too low and too loud. “We know there’s a reason you left him.”
Ro trembled next to him, a nearly silent whine escaping his lips. Patton rumbled and rubbed their heads together. He knew the pain of hearing a bloodsucker use a loved one's voice. He would've given anything to keep that from sweet Ro.
They peered over the edge and there he was, Virgil and his spawn. The beginnings of his new army. Patton brushed Ro’s arm. “Remember the plan. We wait for Drac—”
With a flash of fur and fang, his love roared and the Hunters’ plan exploded.
Ro leapt over the ledge to the alley below. He landed on the younger bloodsuckers’ backs, clawing and snarling. Virgil tugged uselessly at him, his defensive strength no match for the fury of Ro’s full werewolf form.
“Get off them!” he cried over Ro’s growls. Ro snapped at him, letting go and giving Dracula’s spawn his full attention. But it was an unfair fight and his brother’s corpse slunk behind him.
Grabbing his arm, the vamp twisted back and up. The loud, wet snap and crunch shuddered through Patton and he jumped to the ground.
Luka followed, growling his own rage. Keeping themselves between the bloodsuckers and Ro, they surged forward. When Virgil turned, urging his spawn away, Patton took his chance.
All Luka needed was one clear bite for each.
Too quickly, Drac appeared and grabbed him. Hands that earlier had been so gentle suddenly tore at his fur and tossed him aside like trash. Patton crashed into a dumpster, warping and splitting the welded edge. Its foul contents leaked out as Patton fought to breathe.
His head spun, every word Drac spoke shuddering through his body. No, no, no! Not now!
Like a break in the clouds, a worried trill from his sweet Ro pulled his mind back into focus. Patton pushed up to his feet, shaking off the fire in his back and his head. He rumbled reassuringly to Ro then rejoined the battle.
Patton pushed forward, drawing the vamps' attention when Luka got his teeth into Virgil. He froze when Drac grabbed him.
“You!”
No, no, no no…
Dracula twisted his fingers in his fur and dragged him closer. Golden eyes, earlier so warm and soft, now glinted with a hot rage. “You will not harm them!” he commanded. "Go now!"
Patton struggled, shaking in his grip. He tried to look away, tried to listen to the sounds of Luka’s fighting, to Ro’s quiet pained whine that he fought so bravely to suppress. But all he could hear was Dracula’s voice, soft and shouting at once, those molten gold eyes staring into him.
He returned to his human form. Bones shrinking down and face flattening, he trembled, fighting the compulsion to leave. Patton urged his feet forward, back into the fight, desperate, useless hope. If he grabbed Dracula now, then Luka could get a bite in. They could pick off the spawn later.
But Patton couldn’t still his own retreat. Even as Ro’s outraged whine hit his ears, he marched away.
Luka soon followed, tugging Ro from the scene, and the three Hunters fled together.
~
One foot in front of the other, Roman followed his pack home. His eyes focused on the rain pattering the sidewalk, ears and nose sharp for any more of those bloodsuckers. Not that he could do anything about it if they encountered a threat.
His shattered arm throbbed, but he deserved it. If he had kept his control, if he’d let the others jump down first after Drac appeared, just as they’d planned, then he wouldn’t have gotten hurt. He wouldn’t’ve distracted Patton.
He wouldn’t’ve ruined their plan.
Patton moved close as Roman shifted back to his human form and wrapped an arm around his waist. Roman's bones were already healing, but healing wrong, and he couldn’t hold back the whine at the back of his throat as the jagged edges fought their new configuration.
Some Hunter he was. Shamed, he clamped his mouth shut, but he knew both could hear his weakness.
After about a block, Patton stroked his back, rumbling quietly. “We’ll fix you up at home, cookie. I promise.”
“But—” he breathed hard through his nose when another pained sound followed his words. Luka moved closer, sharp eyes scanning the street. Laughter, possibly human, possibly bloodsuckers, spilled from around the corner and the eldest Hunter urged them back.
They looped around the back way to their home, hopping fences until they’d reached their tiny yard. Luka punched in the code to the backdoor and let them inside.
“Sit over here, Ro,” Patton murmured. Despite his failure, Patton’s treatment was soft and kind. He pressed him into a soft chair and even brought a pillow for him to rest his arm.
Once he was seated, Patton helped him peel back his shirt, revealing a constellation of rapidly healing bruises. His arm was painted in purples, greens, and yellows. But the bone was crooked, the radial jutting out at an unnatural angle even as his wounds healed, the damaged bone knitting itself back together in the wrong shape.
It would need to be reset. Patton took his other hand, wincing, then looked to Luka. “Would you—” A sour fear poured off of him, easing only slightly when Luka sat across from them.
Squeezing Patton’s shoulder, Luka nodded and began examining the fractures. Patton slunk away, face drawn down in a scowl. “I’ll bring the supplies,” he muttered.
“Thank you, Pat.” Roman nodded and lowered his head. Patton had barely been able to look at him, retreating from his failure like he needed to collect himself before he snapped.
When he returned, Luka continued to work on his arm and the elder Hunters argued about the thrall. Roman half-listened, distracted by the pain of Luka’s ministrations. What they were saying didn’t make much sense and he suspected he'd missed something in his inexperience.
Roman was shocked out of his stupor by Patton suddenly pounding the table. He clutched his moonstone instinctively, teeth and claws already poking through as he struggled to control his startled reaction.
Patton calmed immediately and after a moment, Roman began to understand their sudden retreat.
It had not been willing.
He looked up at the nearly healed scratches along his jaw. Scratches. Vamps didn’t scratch. Roman's stomach churned, ice crackling just under his skin. That monster had forced Patton to scratch himself.
“He compelled you not to tell us he enthralled you, didn’t he?” He met Patton’s eyes, or at least tried to. Patton wouldn't look up.
Roman turned to Luka. “Did he do the same to you?”
“I… I don’t think so.”
The pack sat together in the same room, but sour fear and mistrust sat with and between them. For several minutes, they all avoided each other’s gaze.
It was Patton who reached out first. “We have a real problem if we can’t trust each other. If we can’t even trust ourselves.”
Roman nodded and reached for him. Luka was still working on his arm but his uninjured hand was free. Smiling tentatively, Patton moved to his side and, like he had the night they’d met, gently laced their fingers together.
He curled close to his side and brought his hand up for a kiss. When Luka finished his arm, Patton remained by his side, pressing Roman’s hand to his mouth as he held Luka’s gaze. Slowly, he lowered their shared grip to his lap then hooked shaking fingers under his collar. He tugged, revealing two raw puncture wounds on his neck.
Tears welling in his eyes, he looked at both of them. “We’re losing this war. We need a new plan.”
“Oh, Pat… No…” Roman pulled him close and feathered kisses over his neck and his jaw. “He hurt you,” he whispered.
“I let him.”
“No, little pup,” Luka murmured and Roman’s eyes flew wide. He’d never thought he'd hear Luka call him that. But Patton drew close and rubbed his cheek against the eldests Hunter’s palm. “You were enthralled,” Luka said, shaking his head. “We need to tell the Guild.”
“What we need is peace,” Patton insisted. “The Guild is just going to try to build a bigger weapon. What’s next? Vampire hybrids to fight the vampires? That’s what we’ll need because if we're vulnerable, then the only thing that can’t be enthralled is another vampire.”
“Actually…” Luka began.
Patton glared. “You’ve got to be kidding me! No,” he shook his head. “No, I’m done with sharing everything we know just to have the Guild leave us in the dark.”
“Maybe the venom will drive them to talk,” Roman said quietly. Patton and Luka dropped their staring contest and turned to him. “If they can enthrall us, we won’t be able to work together enough to administer it, but maybe… maybe they won’t know that. They’ll think we’re like them, just… animals. And ready to bite them.”
Luka sat back in his chair and dragged his hands through his hair, a low growl pushing past his lips. “This was meant to be our time. The venom…” He sighed and leaned forward again, eyes lingering on the wounds on Patton’s neck and Roman’s shattered arm. “You’re right. This can’t go on.”
“They can’t come here. We can’t invite them in,” Patton said, pressing Roman’s hand againy his chest. “And we’re not setting foot in their nests. We need somewhere neutral. Somewhere safe.”
“Hmm,” Luka grunted then fell silent, eyes faraway. After a moment, he shrugged and met their gaze. “There’s always The Library.”
~
Patton had been right. The venom spooked the vamps and they agreed to meet at dawn under the shared protection of the Bibliothecari. While they waited for the sun to rise, the pack gathered in the small den.
“I knew I had a reason to be afraid of librarians,” Roman had tried to joke, but his voice shook, worry for his love fraying all other thoughts. He and Luka curled on either side of Patton. With soft touches and kisses, they cleaned his wounds and worked to soothe the deeper hurts of his thrall.
Despite the danger, despite his hatred, and despite the way Drac had left him shaken and violated, Patton still felt his draw. Even as his mind screamed in revulsion, a small, loud part of him longed for the vamp's icy touch and the sharp pain of his bite. Patton trembled in his packmates’ arms, and they held him tight, solid reminders of who his family was, who his pack was.
“It’ll get easier, little pup,” Luka rumbled. “I promise. The talks will be difficult, but the thecari know and they’ll set up extra protection for you.”
Patton nodded against Luka’s chest and Roman curled close behind him, arms wrapped tightly around his body. The physical signs of Drac’s assault were nearly gone. And they would carry him through the rest of his healing.
“I’m scared for you, cookie,” he whispered, drawing Roman’s hands closer to his heart. “They'll probably going to bring their spawn. You’ll see him again.”
“I know,” Roman sighed. “It was… difficult to see Re’s corpse last night.” He buried his face in Patton’s hair, breathing in the confusing mixed smells of burnt plastic and brown sugar. Even in safety of their den, Patton’s turmoil was obvious in his scent. “But I’m not letting you two go alone. I don’t want you getting hurt.”
Roman shuddered, not quite able to suppress his low whine. Hurt again.
“I’ll be alright, Love,” Patton rolled onto his back and pulled each of them close. “We’re finding another path. This is the right thing to do.”
Luka smiled, a low, pleased rumble stuttering through each of them. “My sweet, brave pups. With you two, I think this just might work."
~
The thecari recommended the parties stagger their arrivals to ensure they wouldn’t encounter each other in the streets, outside of the protective spells in The Library. But even with those measures, Luka and Patton insisted they entered first.
“No!” Ro protested, reaching for Patton. “I can help!”
Patton looped one arm around his waist, his other hand coming up to stroke his cheek. “Let us grant you a little protection, cookie. Please?” Drawing close, he nuzzled against his neck and the lingering scent of Patton’s wound filled his senses.
“But—”
“Roman, there’s still a chance they’re planning something,” Luka rumbled, one hand on each of their shoulders. “We need to be sure.”
With a quiet whine, he nodded. “I’ll be listening,” he promised, pushing his cheek into Patton’s palm and drawing Luka closer. “Be careful and don’t be afraid to call for me.” He looked back at them with tears in his bright green eyes. “Please?”
“We will, Love,” Patton whispered, brushing one more kiss against his cheek. Then he turned to Ni. “We’re ready.”
It was easier than Patton feared to see Drac again. His breath still caught painfully in his throat and, when he forgot himself, his gaze lingered on those gleaming teeth. But the tremor in hands was manageable, and his fear was… well, not gone, but muffled to a quavering whisper, quiet enough that he could think.
Ni bowed his head and gifted him with a small smile. “Shkran lak,” Patton murmured, one hand over his heart. “Thank you.”
When it became clear that the vamps didn’t dare hide any tricks up their sleeves—Patton did note how Drac was avoiding each of their eyes, they called in Ro. That’s when the other shoe dropped.
“Ro?” the walking corpse blurted out. “What are you doing here?”
Patton leapt out of his seat and put himself between his love and the vamps. “How dare you say his name, bloodsucker!”
True to their promise to provide a neutral meeting space, the thecari dropped a protective shield between them. They could still see and hear each other, but Patton had little doubt the sparkly veil between them would be impenetrable to anyone who intended harm.
The vamp looked genuinely hurt, with guilty eyes snagging on Ro’s sling. No. No, these soulless bloodsuckers are just good at mimicking actual emotion.
Patton struggled to control the growl pushing its way up his throat. V’s spawn stammered and sighed, doing his damnedest to trick his sweet Ro into believing he was miraculously still his brother. It was convincing, all soft words and nervous little glances. Patton even recognized a bit of Ro in him, but it was long known the vamps were master mimics.
And they all knew how manipulative bloodsuckers were.
He tried not to be taken in, but it was impossible to ignore the behavior of the other three vamps. They looked… concerned. Their bodies shouted, leaning closer to the vamp who wore Ro’s dead brother like a suit. The vamp’s admission of delusions shook them, but not with fear. Worry and compassion, impossible emotions, washed over their faces and spilled out in their pheromones. It was as though they actually cared for him.
Ro’s reaction, though, shattered Patton's heart. Quiet tears poured down his face. “My brother never told anyone else why he did all that.”
“Yeah, I know,” the vamp whispered, head hung in shame. “That's ‘cause it’s really me, Ro.”
Then Ro, sweet, sweet Ro, pulled the vampire into a hug. “It really is you. I thought you were dead, Re. It's why I…”
Patton was on his feet, waiting for the moment the vampire launched its attack. Shaking his head, Ni drew close and touched his arm, the warmth in his touch dancing over his skin. Patton felt calmer. Not… controlled, but the wet, heavy fear smothering his mind cleared enough to think.
The veil would not have allowed them to touch if the vampire had evil intentions.
“That’s what I’ve been telling you, dumbass." The vampire was crying now, too. "I’m just different now… like you.” He smirked, terrifyingly close to Ro’s playful crooked smile. “Just… I won’t need a flea bath every night.”
“Yeah ‘cause you’re the flea.” Roman laughed and cried, clinging to the vamp. Both Patton and Luka rumbled, easing his hurt however they could while he was in the center of the field.
Sloppily drying his eyes with his hand, the vampire pressed the other against his chest, another of Ro’s sweet gestures. “Excuse you, I am not a flea. I am a sparkly sexy vampire, thank you very much.”
“Oh, shut up,” Roman muttered and hugged his brother again.
The twins’ reconciliation was the breakthrough they needed. Whenever he and Luka grew frustrated with the vampires, they looked to the twins, one on each side of the table. They were their hope. And while the talks, this first talk, at least, ended with only a temporary truce agreement, it felt like progress.
First to arrive, the vampires were also the first to go, but before Drac left the room, he touched Ni’s hand. “lahzatan wahidat min fadlik,” he said quietly, but clearly, as though he wanted to be sure the Hunters would hear and understand him.
“‘One moment, please,’” Luka translated in a low whisper for Ro.
“Ana bihajat 'iilaa 'iislah.” (I need to make amends.)
Drac glanced in Patton's direction and he shivered under even the partial attention, toes twitching in his boots.
“Laqad adhiatuhu. Hal satabqaa limusaeadatih ealaa alshueur bial'amani?” (I hurt him. Will you stay to help him feel safe?)
Ni’s smile stretched across his face and he pressed both hands together. A cylindrical translucent grey column formed around Drac. He reached out with one gloved hand and watched the energy fizzle against his palm. The shield didn’t harm him, but it wouldn’t let him through, either.
He inclined his head to the thecari. “Shkran lak.” (Thank you.)
Ni gazed at Drac, but past him, like he saw through him to some truth just beyond. “Alaetidhar lays siwaa juz' min 'iislah al'umuri.” (Apology is only part of making amends.) His voice was soft but just as commanding as Drac’s ever was.
“Naeam,” (yes), Drac nodded, expression tight. “Shkran lak,” (thank you), he repeated, then turned to face Patton and Luka. Ro shifted next to them, his good arm hooked around both of theirs.
Eyes low and focused on their chins, Drac cleared his throat. Still, when he spoke, his voice wobbled. “I wish to apologize,” he began.
“You? Apologize?” Luka snapped.
“Yes.”
Drac waited, gaze still strangely trained on their faces but avoiding their eyes. Was he waiting for… permission to speak?
“We’re listening,” Patton finally said, glancing over to Luka. He growled quietly, but Patton shrugged and stroked his arm. What will it hurt to listen to him like this?
“Ire”—Luka’s eyes widened at the respectful use of his Hunter name—”We have known each other a long time and… during that time, I have mocked and taunted you with the thrall. Initially I was merely working to protect myself and my—” He closed his eyes and fell silent for a long moment, throat bobbing. Eventually he seemed to recover. Slightly. The shimmering shield made it look like tears had gathered in his eyes. Patton was… pretty sure it was just the shield.
“I apologize.”
“I don’t forgive you,” Luka growled.
Drac bowed his head. “I do not expect you to.”
Patton shivered when he turned his attention to him. “Pathos…”
His good arm curled protectively around him, Ro pulled him close. Patton pressed himself against his chest, his quiet rumble battling the fire in his veins.
“I am deeply sorry for…” Drac’s face crumpled and he shook his head, like dismissing an errant thought or sound. “Deeply sorry for everything I did to you. I… I didn’t understand—”
He shook his head again. “That's irrelevant. I was wrong and I am sorry. The thrall will pass for both of you. I will stay away from you and it will fade and soon. And I…" His hands quivered at his sides and he hung his head again. "I will not hurt you again."
Rumbling wordlessly, Luka and Ro wrapping themselves around him, shield and comfort in one. After several long moments of silence, Drac bowed to the trio and moved toward the door.
“Thank you,” Patton said to his back.
Turning, he faced their direction, again, avoiding their eyes. His mouth opened, familiar, frightening lips moving silently, but closed again without speaking.
Finally, he nodded once then followed Ni out of the room. The door slowly hissed shut and Patton watched the greyish column around Drac fade as the distance between them grew.
~
At Luka's summons, the city's remaining Hunter packs gathered near the lake in Central Park. They were not happy about the truce. The Hunters were even more unhappy about the secrets the Guild had been keeping.
"What do you mean, enthralled?" A tall Elm pack Hunter narrowed her eyes at Pat.
"What part of enthralled is so difficult to understand?" Luka snapped. "It's quite simple. We are not impervious to Drac and his spawn. The Guild has known for years but was waiting for the venom to be finished before making it known."
"And the vamps have already found a cure for the new venom," Pat said, quieter than Luka but with just as much steel behind his words.
Roman had remained silent while the elder Hunters discussed the terms of the truce. Defensive actions were allowed, but would trigger an immediate meeting at The Library. Long neutral witnesses in the escalating war between the most infamous of the city's supernatural creatures, the thecari were only too happy to set up the necessary tracking to satisfy both sides.
But when it became clear some of the packs were putting prejudice before peace, Roman spoke up. "There is a lot we don't understand about the vamps. A lot we've had wrong. And not just what the Guild had kept from us."
The Ivy pack growled between themselves, snips and low howls in their family dialect. Finally, their elder perked up his ears and scowled. "And what if we don't obey the truce?"
Before anyone could breathe, Luka had knocked him to the ground. Throat held in his jaws, he growled a soft warning.
"Our survival is at stake," Patton murmured. "We will do anything to protect our pack. And yours."
Luka released the Ivy Hunter's throat but kept him pinned to the ground, massive clawed hands digging into his shoulders. "Whatever is necessary."
~
Even after the meeting officially ended, a few Hunters lingered, murmuring quietly with each of them. A smaller Hunter from the Elm pack approached Roman.
"Is it true?" Eyes wide, they breathed in his scent as though they could sniff out dishonesty. Maybe they could. "Do the bloodsuckers steal the memories of their suits?"
"No!" he growled. "How did you—" Pat moved to his side, rumbling gently, and Roman let his love's presence soothe away his irritation.
"No," Roman said, nearly calm. "My brother is still my brother, just as we remain who we were before our transition to Hunters."
They frowned, then turned without comment when their elder called.
"That could've gone worse," Pat murmured next to him, rubbing their heads together.
Luka laughed, trotting over to join them when the last of the other Hunter's left. "That might have been difficult, but yes." He nuzzled each of their jaws, then tilted his head at Pat. "How are you? Would heading home like this help?"
"I… Maybe." Pat paused and inhaled deeply, letting the air out in a warm rumble. "I'm… improved. Drac spoke the truth."
"Words you never thought you'd say?" Roman bonked their heads together, the playfulness in his voice beautiful.
"Perhaps. Okay, definitely," he admitted.
Luka circled them, spiraling outward with mischief in his eyes. "Are you feeling well enough for…" In a flash, Luka took off over the bridge, howling after them, "For a race?"
Pressing one more kiss along Roman's jaw before taking off at a trot, Pat laughed. "C'mon, cookie. Let's take the old man down."
Roman let out a low, joyous howl, soon echoed by a chorus of responses from both Hunters and grey wolves in the park. "Right behind you, Love," he called and ran to catch up.
Prev - Our Hurts and Our Comforts - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]
@royalityweek A bit of a liberty with the Cuddling prompt today.
WC: 1924 - Rating: T - CW: discussion of thrall and vampires, hurt/comfort
Just as Pathos had expected, Ire was quick to welcome Roman into their home. His bravery shone through when, instead of cowering under the other Hunter’s glare, bathed in his warning pheromones, Roman smiled and introduced himself as his equal. Ire tried not to show it, but he backed down immediately then, watching him with a careful respect, even before he learned why Pathos had brought him.
That might have been why they came on so strong, crowding around Roman as soon as they entered the house. Sour-scented fear poured off of him as his eyes darted between the front door and the two large Hunters that stood between him and the only exit he’d seen. Ire seemed to notice at the same moment Pathos did, and in wordless agreement, they backed off.
Pathos remained by Roman’s side. As his fear ebbed, his cortisol and adrenaline dropped off and he looked ready to collapse. Pathos hurried hurried him into the den where he finally relaxed enough to reveal the rest of his worries.
It took every bit of Pathos’ control not to pull him onto his lap right then. This strong, brave, soft man had still followed him even when he thought it meant joining them through the most barbaric, ancient ways. He'd still trusted him. Pathos’ heart melted at the way Roman gently edged closer, leaning against him and letting him help support him in his fatigue.
He rumbled, low in his chest. His heart wasn’t just melting. It was racing. When Ire returned with the tray, he caught his eye, no doubt hearing the pounding against his ribcage.
Pathos was falling and falling hard.
But his attention shifted at Roman’s question about L. The human had been Pathos' last attempt to persuade a pet to leave. And his last failure.
As far as he could tell, he’d first encountered L and Dracula’s spawn shortly after they’d met, well before L was as far gone as he was now. Pathos wasn’t even sure the bloodsucker had bitten him by then, but L had already been showing the signs of the thrall.
“Don’t you know what that is?” Pathos had hissed, reaching for the raven-haired human's arm. He wasn't dressed like other pets he'd seen before. His shirt and slacks were conservatively cut, neatly pressed. His shirt collar was buttoned to the top, accented with a perfectly symmetrical Windsor knot in his silk tie. Before he could pull him away, though, the vamp had leapt between them, canines flashing in the dark.
“Don’t touch him!” he’d growled. “I won’t let you hurt him!”
“I’m a Hunter.” Pathos ignored—or, at least, tried to ignore—the snarling vampire between them and addressed the human. “I can bring you somewhere safe.” He offered the man his hand again but V batted it away. “Please, I can help you!"
The man shook his head and shrank behind the bloodsucker, fingers curling into his sleeves. “V?” His voice shook, but he wasn’t afraid of the vampire holding him captive.
He was afraid of him.
“You can escape this!” Pathos tried again, seeking out his eyes, but the man avoided his gaze. “It goes away, I promise! I’ll—”
“Please, V,” he whispered and Pathos moved closer, but the human wasn’t addressing him. He was pleading with the bloodsucker.
The vamp turned—he let the human call him V to his face? Pathos had heard stories of Dracula’s spawn dusting his own kind for less. “Don’t worry, L, my dear,” he'd murmured, stroking his cheek like a doting den mother. Or a lover. “I won’t allow him to harm you.”
In an instant, Pathos lay crumpled on the sidewalk, leg twisted and broken in at least two places. Gritting his teeth, he pressed against the first fracture, unable to do more than watch as the bloodsucker snatched up his prey and sprinted down the street.
L had buried his face against the vamp’s neck, arms draped around his shoulders. Fingers curled lovingly through his hair, they disappeared into the night.
Pathos had admitted his failure the following morning, but instead of punishing him or, as he’d feared, banishing him from the Guild completely, Ire had rumbled gently, stroking his hair and nuzzling against his neck and shoulder. “The only way to liberate the enthralled is to dust their captors. The pull is too strong. Even the Carpathian Guild couldn’t do it.”
Curled in Ire’s arms, Pathos had cried, but listened and grew. Ire touched him again now, his hand strong and warm and steadying. “The bloodsuckers need to feed to survive,” he said to Roman. “But… when they leave enough in the victims that they’re still alive after they feed, a lot of them get… addicted. Not just with the thrall, but the feeding itself.”
Roman shivered against him, shrinking against full horror of the thrall, of craving the attention and attacks of one’s kidnapper. “And… V… the one who killed Re, he… he keeps one of these humans around?”
“For years,” The softness in L’s voice, the trust in his eyes as he’d looked up at his captor as though he was some sort of savior. Pathos still had nightmares about it. “If… when we finally stake V, his pet will be released from his hold. He’ll be vulnerable after this spawning.” Ire nodded slowly, no doubt also recalling the dozens of post-spawn vamps they’d taken out over the years. It left the new ones weaker, too. An effective strategy to cull their numbers.
Roman’s eagerness and his bravery pushed aside Pathos’ dour memories. With another Hunter by their side, especially one as optimistic, as passionate as him, they could make a real difference in the city. Maybe even take it back from the vamps for good.
Ire drew close and rubbed his temple against Roman’s hair, blending their scents and officially accepting him into their pack. “I’ll get the serum,” he murmured. Ire stroked Roman’s hair one more time, then excused himself to the lab for a fresh vial.
“Come here, Roman,” Pathos grinned. “Finish up your tea and have one of these peanut butter cookies. You should have a little something in your stomach, but nothing too heavy.” Munching hungrily, Roman obeyed. The continued demonstration of faith in his new pack, even before he could feel it properly, gave Pathos new hope.
Roman ate and drank, then Pathos prepared his arms and helped him get comfortable against him. Pathos rumbled quietly, stroking his hair and his shoulders. It would hurt a little less if he was relaxed at the moment of injection.
When it was done, he passed out quickly, maybe even before Ire called him his pup, and Pathos continued to stroke his hair as he slept.
“He likes you,” Ire murmured once they were both certain he was resting comfortably.
“Perhaps,” Pathos demurred. He wasn’t ready to hope for much more than the gift of his trust. “He’s precious. You should’ve seen him out there. Defenseless and still he marched right up to Emile’s searching for his brother.”
“He’ll make a good Hunter.”
~
“Shhh, you’re safe,” Pathos murmured. Arms wrapped tightly around him, Pathos kept Roman’s hands crossed over his body, backs pressed against his sternum. He writhed in the Hunter’s arms, fresh, sharp claws extended as he grasped at the empty air. Eyes squeezed shut, Roman whined, pained and pitched high beyond human hearing. “We’ve got you, Ro, we’ve got you… Oh, look,” he said, quiet, but with a bit of cheer.
At this stage, Pathos couldn’t be sure how conscious Roman was. He only had fleeting memories of his own transformation, flashes of pain and fear. And bits of soft, kind words and touches from Ire and Somnus. Now it was his honor to guide and protect Roman through his.
“He might be ready for a bit of food now,” Ire said near his ear.
Nodding, Pathos adjusted his grip to hold Roman with one arm and reached with his other hand for a morsel of the meal Ire had prepared. Roman shifted in his hold, inhaling deeply and turning toward the food.
“Yes, that smells good, doesn’t it? Here, Ro, tiny piece…” he murmured, holding a bite of food gingerly and snapping his hand back before Roman’s teeth caught his fingertips.
His eyes cracked open and he quickly swallowed down the bite and opened his mouth for more. “A few more, then you’ll rest again.” He offered Roman several more bites, just a little at a time, listening closely as his whine quieted. “Better?”
He could’ve sworn Roman nodded, but in this first shift, he likely wouldn’t have that much control, not for semi-verbal communication. Roman opened his mouth again and Pathos chuckled. “One more,” he said to him, rumbling approvingly when he took the piece a little more carefully, then settled in his lap, eyes once again closed. This time, though, his lids were smooth and relaxed, and his breathing had slowed to a gentle pant. “Veal?” he asked Ire, sniffing at the bowl.
“Lamb. Softer for his sore teeth.”
Stroking the soft auburn fur growing in around his ears and his jaw, Pathos nodded. Even sleeping, Roman rubbed against his palm, his own low rumble buzzing against his hand. “There you go, Ro, time to rest.”
~
Pathos must have dozed off, as well, because he woke with a start, Roman clinging to him, human fingers gripping him hard enough to bruise. He shook with suppressed sobs. “Oh, Ro… You’re safe, Ro,” he tightened his grip, his arms never completely falling away from him, even as they'd both slept. Pathos whispered, gentle words, pressing kisses into his hair before he really thought about it. Roman pulled him closer, so he didn’t stop.
“You’re safe, Ro, you’re safe,” Pathos whispered as he cried, holding him through his sobs until they eased enough that he thought Roman might be able to speak. “Where does it hurt the worst?”
Roman shuddered against him. “Shoulders… back,” he whispered between shaky sobs.
Pressing firmly against his elongating and shrinking vertebrae, Pathos rumbled, low and loud in his throat and his chest. He’d believed the myth that only cats could purr to heal, but the sound poured out of him by some deeper instinct. He moved him carefully, chest pressed to his back and arms threaded together and crossed over Roman’s.
Achingly slowly, he relaxed in Pathos’ hold until all that was left of his tears was wetness on the pillows. Both had shed their shirts over the past few days, each shredded from his new claws.
“You’re nearly done, Ro,” Pathos whispered and lay still as Roman rolled over and nuzzled against his chest. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Really?” His voice was small, already half-fuzzed with sleep.
Pathos curled around him, pressing more kisses into his hair. “Really, Ro. One more sleep should do it.”
“No, I mean…” Roman pulled back, tear-filled eyes meeting his. “You’re proud?” His voice cracked and Pathos buried his hand in his hair, stroking it carefully. Though all he'd complained about was his back, everything from his toenails to his hair follicles would be sore. “I’m not… doing it wrong?”
“Of course not, Ro. This is hard,” he murmured, easing back just enough to meet his eyes again. “You’re doing so well.”
Whatever he saw in his eyes must have reassured him, because Roman hummed and laid his head back down against his chest. “One more sleep," he nodded. He let his eyes fall shut and, after a few minutes, fell deeply asleep.
Secrets can mask danger.
or, as a wise man once said,
"Secrets, secrets are no fun. Tell me now or else we're done."
Day 6 of @royalityweek, Secrets
WC: 2599 - Rated: T - CW: blood, vampirism, thrall/mind control, suggestive
Sweet Ro had insisted he would return quickly after his next performance. Patton had been walking him home each evening, with Luka covering the gap in their patrols. "But I enjoy meeting you afterwards," he'd insisted, brushing kisses against his cheekbone, his jaw, his ear. "You still wear the scent of your stage make-up, and your voice is fizzy with excitement. It's beautiful."
"I'm a sweaty mess after shows!" he'd protested, bright pink dusting his cheeks.
"And beautiful," Patton murmured, interrupting his attempt to put on his shoes by wrapping both arms around him and snuggling close. "You sound surprised I'd want to see you like that." Ro's only response had been a quiet laugh as he'd pulled him into a kiss.
Ro's earlier surprise that they would even permit him to continue his theatre work had been heartbreaking, though.
“Oh,” he’d blinked, mouth working silently as he burrowed deeper into his spot between them in the big den. A passing glance at the calendar after lunch one day had pulled him into a near panic, sharpened teeth elongating and fur sprouting on the backs of his hands. His control was improving, but sudden emotional jolts could still bring out the wolf involuntarily.
Drawing him down into the nest of pillows had helped and eventually Ro had gotten out that he was expected for a play.
“I wasn’t sure if… if it was, you know, allowed,” he’d whispered, leaning in to their little touches with a soft rumble.
“Of course it is, cookie,” Patton murmured. He scritched the blend of fur and hair at the back of his neck, fingers buried in the fluffy softness he’d come to love, to crave. “Oh, Love, you never need to be afraid to tell us things.”
“Barring emergencies, we’ll have no problem working around your performances.” Luka’s voice was low, soothing them both. “And even if it was difficult, little pup, we'd still make it work. It's important to you.”
Ro had rumbled again then, the fuzzy sweet sound broadening Patton’s smile. “It is,” he’d nodded, eyes fallen shut under the attention of his new pack. “Thank you…”
And so Patton waited for him just outside the stage door. He and Ro had completed a successful hunt the night before, taking out three of the band of bloodsuckers who’d spent the past two months prowling the streets, looking for revenge for Yann. The monsters didn’t care that it hadn’t been their Hunter guild following V’s marching orders and were out for blood. Ro was simply too new to hunt on his own.
A sudden shadow loomed in front of him and Patton reached for his herbertz blade. “Don’t even try it, buddy…” The scent of blood and cold copper filled his lungs. A vamp, but one he didn’t recognize. It wasn’t a young one, either. Patton couldn’t quite guess its age, but its days as a living being were long, long past it.
Chuckling quietly, he grabbed his freshly sharpened stake instead. “Well, then. What do we have here?” He drew closer. Earth and dust. Old silk. It was calm, entirely too calm for a bloodsucker cornered in an alley by a trained Hunter. Patton chuckled again, almost pitying the creature. Almost. It had no idea who it had decided to accost. “You’re new in town, aren’t you?” he asked it, giving it a chance to run. Make it a fair fight.
The bloodsucker stood its ground, posing as though it was the one with the upper hand. Arrogant, too? “Oh, who’s a bright little Hunter?” Its unctuous voice was thick with sarcasm and scorn. Patton snarled and stepped closer, positioning the vamp between him and a solid brick wall. Soon it would be nothing but dust mixing with the rest of the dirt underfoot.
The bloodsucker didn’t even know enough to be afraid, warm, golden eyes sure and confident. He smiled at Patton, gleaming white teeth peeking past dark red lips. . “You’re not afraid to meet my eyes, little pup.” His voice was low and buzzed in his brain.
Patton shook his head, cutting off the start of a rumble deep in his chest. “Don’t call me that, you filthy bloodsucker.” Luka was the only person alive who could call him that. Certainly not this strange, cocky vampire. Patton eyed him, inspecting him for the telltale bulges of a weapon.
Nothing but his teeth. His mind buzzed again and he drew closer, chasing the faint scent of jasmine and rosehips. “Of course I’m not afraid to meet your eyes.” Patton stood tall, the smooth finish of the heavy stake in his hands lending him strength. He pushed out a laugh, a little tinny. laughed. This vamp thought he’d be afraid? “Your thrall won’t work on me.”
The vampire only smiled, full, dark lips parted to reveal more of his strong, sharp teeth. “Oh, is that so?” He stepped closer, wrapping Patton in the soft scent of flowers.
Stake it now! Rush it and stab, it won’t expect it. Do it, Pathos, do it now!
Patton inhaled deeply. Spring rains, the tang of ozone, the crackle of lightning. He blinked. He’d nearly put away his stake and he looked up at the vampire again, raising the pointy end of his stake back where it belonged.
“That’s right, bloodsucker." He thumped his chest, fingers grazing the turquoise around his neck.. "Thrall won’t work on members of the Pack.”It’s playing with you, Pathos. Why is it so confident? Stake it, get Ro, and run!
“Are you quite certain about that?”
The vampire drew even closer. If Patton reached out, he could touch the heavy velvet cloak, his gloves. The yellow leather looked soft and pliant and Patton wondered what it might feel like against his skin.
"Put down that stake." The command battered his mind, seeping through his skin and filling his body until it reached his fingers and he released his grip.
No! Pathos, what are you doing? Patton watched himself from above, growling as his stake rolled away from his body. Run, Pathos, run!
The vampire gifted him with a smile, soft and beautiful. They were so close, his own body’s heat bouncing off the vampire until it seemed to come from him instead. He could touch the vampire, if he wished, if the vampire would allow him too.
Sweet, blood-warmed breath ghosted against his neck and Patton shuddered. His muscles fought under his skin, driving him back, away from the vampire at the same time as they pushed him forward.
Run! Just run! Get Luka, get help, just run!
"Now isn't that better, pup?" A warning growl bubbled up from his chest, thighs trembling with frozen effort to run.
His body just wouldn’t obey. The vampire’s pheromones screamed at him, the bloodsucker’s hunger bathing him in it’s dizzying, aluring stink. Patton’s claws burned at his fingertips and toes, called to emerge from the danger.
The vampire only laughed at his turmoil. "I don’t care much for the taste of full werewolves”—Run Pathos!—”but you hybrids smell delicious.”
Delicious? Patton’s face stretched into a smile and he breathed in deeply. Copper and flowers stung his nose, sharp and bright. He wanted more.
The vampire drew closer, lips dangerously close for one tantalizing moment. But then he moved away and Patton bit his lip, stifling a whine.
Run!
“And I know you smell me. You're practically vibrating every time you inhale." Patton’s feet sank into the ground, boots heavy, laden with wet cement and lead. His eyes followed the vampire as he circled him, long, lithe fingers petting his hair, his shoulders. Two fingers stroked the shell of his ear. He shivered.
The vampire’s skin was smooth and cold, burning ice against his bare skin. Despite the ache, Patton leaned in to the soft brushes, neck muscles twitching as his brain shouted and tried to yank away from his touch. "Oh, and you do like a little affection, don't you?"
The words were quiet but his voice boomed through Patton’s body, rattling his bones and echoing through his mind. "I like it, too." Soft, cold lips pressed against his ear. "What’s your name, pup?”
“I am called Pathos.”
His deep, gravely laughter sounded more like a packmate’s rumble than mockery and Patton’s body reacted, his own near-silent rumble pushing up from his chest. The vampire’s scent grew sweet and he opened his mouth to taste the air.
Get out of there, Pathos! Now! Just go!
“That’s not what I asked…” The vamp stroked his turquoise, the stone vibrating its outrage against his chest. Icy hands then dragged down his body and locked onto his hips, digging into his flesh. Electricity fizzled through his nerves and their commands to move, to shove, to run went ignored. He only swayed closer as the vampire stared into eyes.
“What’s your name?”
The vamp’s command ripped the word from his mouth. “Patton.”
“Patton…”
His name on the vampire’s lips was wrong, terrifying. How could he have given up his name to a bloodsucker?
And it was beautiful. He growled, a warning and a plea to hear it again. “Patton…” Patton gasped, fear and need coiling in his belly. “I like the way that feels in my mouth.”
Patton shuddered.
“A little pop at the beginning, just like when I finally let you feel my teeth pierce your tender skin.” Fangs grazed the side of his neck, drawing a single drop of blood. He managed to inch his feet back even as his eyes wouldn’t leave the vampire’s face.
Run, Pathos!
“Then a soft hum at the end when you’re satisfied.” A soft, frozen tongue traced a line up his neck and Patton stopped breathing. “Patton,” the vamp murmured, nuzzling his neck.
Run!
“Patton…” The soft whisper was followed by teeth stabbing through his flesh and ice cold lips closing on the wound, slurping up his blood. Patton pushed against him, hands twisted in the vampire’s cloak. It was as soft as it had looked. The lining was heavy silk, a perfect butter yellow.
Luka had once told him how Dracula wore yellow to replace the sun that now scorned him.
No! Run!
He pulled Dracula closer, melting against him. A soft, pleased rumble spilled from his lips even as his blood spilled into Dracula’s waiting mouth. Before long, Dracula broke away from his neck but kept one iron hand on his hip. Cold fingers brushed down his cheek.
“Patton,” he said. “Now… tell me where you last saw my Virgil.”
“Your sired is building an army, my lord. But the Hunters will defeat him. We know where he lives, we know where he plays. We know which of his own kind will help us. We'll make him watch his spawn die by our hand and then his dust will feed the rats of the City.”
The fiery threat consumed the last of his fight and it was only Dracula's hold that kept him upright. Patton now only observed from a tiny spot in the back of his skull, seeing through his eyes, feeling the bruises growing on his hip, frosty fingers against his skin.
“Yes, I know you think that, little pup,” The words were gentle, but the on his hip tightened painfully. Dracula drew closer and kissed his neck. When he straightened, blood glistened on his lips.
He licked them slowly then asked again. “Where is my Virgil now?”
“V will likely be at Emile’s soon. His sireds will need to feed, my lord.”
Dracula frowned and Patton drew closer. He’d disappointed him.
Please run, Pathos! He screamed and stomped, the heavy scent of blood and flowers smothering him in his skull. Fingers twitching, he gripped Dracula’s cloak even tighter.
“Oh, my little pup, no,” Dracula cooed, wet fingers brushing his cheeks. “Don’t cry, pet. Don't cry. You’ve done so well for me.”
“I have?” His voice shook, knees locked.
“You have,” he nodded slowly, brilliant golden eyes locked on his. “And I want to give you your reward.”
“Reward?” he parroted back and inside his skull he raged. Claws out, a full wolf pushed and kicked and howled.
“Yes, of course, little pup. But first you must promise me to keep this a secret. You never met me, my pet, did you?”
The scent of his own blood on Dracula’s breath, hip aching from his bruising grip, a lazy trickle cooling on his neck, Patton nodded. “I promise, my lord. We never met.”
“So good for me, little pup,” he smiled, sunlight and fire, warmth and danger. Dracula drew close, then pressed ice cold lips to his neck again and drank.
All too soon, it was over. Eyelids fluttering, his muscles trembled and Dracula tutted quietly before scooping him up in his arms and walking him closer to the stage door. A folding chair sat a few feet from the door, smashed cigarette butts littering the ground beneath it.
“Here, my little pup,” he murmured, voice sickly sweet. “Rest here. You’ll want to hide your marks until they heal, won’t you?”
Patton nodded dumbly.
“You smell like blood…” Head hung low, Patton nodded. He was right. “Give me your claws,” he ordered.
Patton obeyed.
Dracula held his hand and scraped it against his jaw until Patton felt his own hot blood drip down his neck. “It’s a pity to waste your sweet blood, but you’ll need a reason to smell as good as you do.” He curled over Patton in his seat, one hand snaking up to curl through his hair and tilting up his head. “See you again, my little pup,” he whispered against his lips and pulled him in to another kiss.
And then he was gone. He was gone.
Patton whined, looking up and down the alley for any sign of where he might have gone. There was no trace. Dracula had left him. He was gone.
He’s gone! Patton leapt to his feet full strength returning in a flash. Hackles up, his claws extended, fur spreading over his face and neck and hands. His skin burned where Dracula had bitten him and, after a long, panting moment, Patton regained control and returned to his human form.
Touching his neck, he felt the rapidly healing puncture wounds, a shiver of pain and… anticipation raising goosebumps over his flesh.
'See you again, my little pup…'
The stage door slammed open, laughter and music filling the dank, quiet alley.
“Pat!” Ro’s voice filled his ears and he rumbled, relief and joy chasing away the last of Dracula’s icy chill from his skin. “You didn’t have to come.” Still, he was smiling, and Patton waved back, waiting patiently while he said goodbye to his fellow cast members.
Skipping the stairs, the young Hunter leapt over the handrail and threw himself into Patton’s arms. He pulled back almost immediately, arms still wrapped around him. Gently, protectively. “You’re hurt!”
“Nothing to worry about, cookie. Only a skirmish,” he mumbled, nuzzling against the side of Ro’s head and absorbing the comfort of his scent. “You won’t even be able to see it by the morning.”
Warn him! Tell him! Tell him now! What might that bloodsucker do if he got his hands on sweet Ro?
Cupping his cheeks, Patton stared into Ro’s eyes. The words were right there, he could taste them on his tongue. Dracula is here and we are vulnerable to the thrall. We’re all in danger!
Dracula’s golden eyes filled his mind. ‘You never met me, my pet…’
He smiled and brushed a soft kiss against Ro's lips. “Let’s go home, Love.”
Roman begins to recover from his transformation.
WC: 2129 - Rated: T - CW: none? some angst. Vampires and werewolves.
The darkness was only a brief reprieve. The next time Roman opened his eyes, a murky grey sky peeked through the drapes and the rain hammering against the window panes was near deafening.
His fingers closed on something warm and soft. Bits of heat grazed his fingertips and a low buzz vibrated through his bones as he shifted closer to the warmth. The movement sent hot, electric jolts through every limb and he shuddered, a high keen filling his ears and scraping his throat raw.
“Shhh, sweet Ro…” Soft, rumbling thunder rolled over him and he breathed in the scent of burnt marshmallows and berries. “Feel my arms around you? You’re safe, you’re safe…”
Pathos.
Roman pulled him closer and tucked his face into the crook of Pathos’ neck. “So loud,” he muttered, then snapped his mouth shut when he realized the whine crackling through his head was his own voice.
“Yes, cookie.” His voice was rich and nubby, sun-warmed suede. “Your new ears are very sensitive.”
Roman jerked back, only letting go to slap his hands over his ears. Pain pushed a surprised yelp from his lips. A sharp ache stabbed against his head, dragging down through his hair. His ears hurt, throbbing up and into his—
He froze. Fur?
“Be still, Ro, it’s okay,” Pathos murmured, warm and scratchy and soothing. Strong fingers carded through the fur around his ears and down the back of his neck. “You’re in your wolf state. Here…” A gentle hand closed around his and brought it up to his chest to play at the soft fluffy fur covering his sternum.
“My shirt?” he mumbled, eyes widening when Pathos placed his hand against his own chest. Fingers nestled in his warm fur, Roman growled. No, not a growl, something closer to a cat’s purr.
“Our shirts were no match against your new claws,” Pathos rumbled, laughter fuzzing his words.
“‘M sorry…”
“No apologies needed.” Pathos drew him close and pressed a soft kiss into his fur. “Comes with the territory, my love.”
Roman froze again. “Love?” He blinked up at Pathos. Soft, curly fur spread down his face and over his shoulders, chest, and arms. The thick blond locks were warm and silky to the touch. His teeth were sharp and shiny poking between his lips, his breath hot and a mix of cinnamon and clover.
Ears flattened, Patton looked back at him with wide eyes. “Well, yes,” he admitted, stroking the fur on either temple. “You’re part of the pack now, Ro. Stronger bond than family, even.”
He nuzzled against Roman’s cheek and the side of his head. Roman nuzzled back, hiding his disappointment.
“But to tell you the truth…” Pathos’ voice changed. Damp earth and wood smoke, salt and moss filled Roman’s lungs. “I feel more than that. I… I care for you, Ro. I… I realize it’s too early for actual love, but…”
Roman curled closer, holding his breath. Afraid to move, afraid to speak, afraid to do anything that might make Pathos take back his soft words. The soft words his own heart screamed back at him.
“I would like to learn to love you, Ro,” he murmured, cradling his jaw with long fingers nestled in his fur. “If that is something you would like, as well?”
Another low almost growl spilled from his lips and Pathos smiled. “Please,” Roman whispered, speaking from both parts of himself.
Nodding slowly, Pathos lowered his head, face flatter, with fuller lips, as he pulled Roman into a kiss.
~
The sky was an inky black by the time they broke apart, panting for breath. Roman lay on his back in the middle of the soft cushions, Pathos curled over him, one hand cradling the back of his head. They’d each transformed back to more human forms, leaving only sharpened incisors and small tufts of fur on their chests and the backs of their hands as evidence of the hybrid wolves they’d been.
Pathos brushed soft kisses along his jaw and up to his ear, hum-purring until his skin buzzed. “We should feed you soon,” he murmured, tracing circles against his sides. “The transition takes a lot out of you and will continue to for another few days.”
“Yes, you should refuel,” Ire’s voice floated down the hallway, followed closely by the scents of hot steel, gunpowder, and mushrooms.
Roman looked up from his position beneath Pathos as Ire entered, cheeks flushed at being caught in such an intimate position. They were dressed from the waist down but…
“It’s alright, Roman, we’re pack,” Ire said, settling near them with a large plate laden with roasted chicken and sweet potatoes and rice. He smiled as Pathos sat up and helped him upright, then placed the food between the trio. “Speaking of our pack,” Ire began, looking significantly at Pathos.
He nodded, touching the turquoise hanging from his neck. “Tomorrow you’ll receive your stone so you can practice shifting at will. But tonight,” Pathos smiled and cupped Roman’s cheek even as he tore off a bit of chicken and chewed hungrily. “Tonight, you’ll receive your name.”
“My name?” he asked after swallowing. His eyes widened, looking between the other two Hunters. “Ire and Pathos aren’t your names?”
Ire shook his head. “My name is Luka,” he said slowly.
Without understanding the impulse, Roman leaned closer and touched their heads together. “Thank you, Luka.”
“Instincts of a Hunter,” Pathos grinned. When Roman pulled away, he touched his cheek again. “And my name is Patton. It is a pleasure to truly meet you, Roman.”
“And you.” He repeated the motion with Patton, this time recognizing the burst of warmth in his chest when the rubbed their temples together. Patton smiled as he settled back into a seat and selected his own piece of chicken.
Roman leaned a little closer to Patton, longing for the skin to skin contact they’d had. Patton scooted closer and wrapped one strong arm around him and across his back, support and a caress in one. Luka drew nearer, too and, bracketed by his new pack, the nervous bubbling in his chest eased. “What will my… other name be?”
Luka smiled and passed him more food. He looked down, surprised to see he’d been gnawing one end of a leg bone picked clean of all flesh. “It is your choice.”
Pathos and Ire. Sympathy and pity in the face of hurt, rage and belligerence in the face of injustice. They were two sides of the same coin, just as Roman had once been with his twin.
His twin. Roman swallowed and sat up a little straighter. Instead of moving away, Patton merely drew himself up, as well, and gave him his full attention, arm still curled around his back.
“Geminus. My new name will be Geminus.”
~
After they ate, Patton cleaned up while Luka gave Roman a tour of the rest of his new home. The basement was cool and quiet and modern, with automatic lights lining the halls and two labs, along with a small surgery and several monitored recovery beds. A commercial refrigerator dominated the far end of the hall. "Sometimes we interrupt a feeding, and the victim needs IV fluid or a transfusion." Roman's eyes lingered on the laboratory and Luka nodded. "This is where we made your serum. If you're interested, you can learn how."
"I'm not sure I'm much of a chemist," he muttered, shaking his head.
"Go where your interests lead," Luka said, beckoning him back upstairs. "Your skill will follow."
Framed pictures lined the stairwell and Roman pointed to one of a young man dressed in a natty 19th century top hat and tails. He was the spitting image of Luka. "Is this your…" He counted back the decades, turning to Luka with brow furrowed. "I guess your great, great-grandfather?"
Luka smiled. "That's me," he nodded and pointed to a small scar on his chin and the matching, but much darker one in the picture. "I was about ninety when that picture was taken."
Roman stared, looking between the picture and the centuries-old Hunter next to him. Luka didn't look more than forty years old. "Are… are werew—are we immortal?"
"Not quite," he laughed, clapping Roman's shoulder and giving it a squeeze as they continued up the stairs. "Just very long-lived."
“My room is here”—he pointed to the first open door on the second floor landing—”And the next is Patton’s. This space is yours,” he said, opening the third door in the upstairs hall. The room was painted a soft yellow, reminiscent of early morning sunshine, and two of the walls featured large, shaded windows.
A queen sized bed piled with blankets and pillows consumed one corner, while a sturdy wooden desk and matching bookshelves took up the other. There was a large closet with a neat row of pants and jackets similar to Patton and Luka’s. Plenty of room remained. A dresser sat just outside the closet door.
His cellphone sat in a charging dock on top of the otherwise bare dresser.
“Am I…” He looked at his phone, fingers itching to check his messages. What if Remus was actually still out there? “May I?” he turned to Luka and pointed to the phone.
“Please, go ahead. Would you like privacy?” Luka stepped closer to the door.
He shook his head. “No, that’s—” His voice faded away, the list of notifications burning into his retinas as he stared, eyes wide, at the screen.
16 missed calls from Re (212) 867-5309
🤹 he, Ro Bro, it work…
🤹 ⏰⏰ wake up, man…
🤹 okay text me whe…
🤹 Ro? getting worri…
Impossible hope wove through his chest, pulled taut and holding him upright even as his knees wobbled. “Re?” He tapped the first message.
hey, Ro Bro, it worked! and i met someone, he's amazing! i can't wait to introduce you! i’m still kinda fucked up and need to rest more but tomorrow will you meet me at—
A roar ripped up from deep in his chest and he threw his phone against the wall. It exploded in a spray of glass and plastic and sheared metal. He doubled over, another cry spilling from his lips, tears and rage pulling him to the floor. His skin and bones were fire and he squeezed his eyes shut against the darkness rushing in from the edges of his vision.
The last thing he felt was Luka's strong hands pulling him close.
~
“I'm so sorry, Roman. It's what they do,” Luka murmured. Roman was in his arms, sobbing against his shoulder. His shirt was soaked and tattered.
Ignoring the rest of his words, Roman sagged against his chest. He pushed aside the torn bits of cloth. Scratches and cuts littered Luka's skin underneath. “I hurt you.” He hung his head, drained, unable to even properly apologize.
"I am perfectly fine," Luka tutted quietly, a rumble similar to Patton’s tickling his chest. "You'll see, we heal quickly from far worse and your control will improve with practice."
Roman didn’t believe him, but he didn’t have the strength to fight. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, lips dragging against his still sharpened teeth. “And I’m sorry for the mess. I'll clean this up and then stay in here until I get my shit together. Is there a broom in the kitchen I can use to—”
“No, Roman, no,” Luka pulled back and pushed away the hair that had fallen over his eyes. Patton appeared in the doorway, holding a broom and dustpan. He set both down on the floor and stood close. "We're here. You're not alone in this."
“Luka's right, Love.” Patton cradled his face between both hands as Luka rubbed his back. “You never need to be alone again.” Roman’s eyes fell closed, the air filled with sticky sweet burnt sugar and warm, roasted coffee. The scents matched their caresses and Roman leaned into Patton’s hands.
"Even… " His eyes dragged over the bloody, frayed edges of Luka's shirt. "Shouldn't I stay here until…" Roman's voice fell away into a quiet whine. The thought of being alone right now, of separating from Patton, from either of them squeezed his heart and left him breathless.
“There's no need for you to be alone, Love." Patton's voice was soft, and hot, sweet breath tickled his neck.
"There's the den downstairs and another, slightly smaller one at the other end of the hall.” Luka’s voice was gentle. “Would it help to go there with Patton now?”
“Would you—” Patton’s hands were warm on either side of his face, and he rubbed his cheeks into the warmth. Nodding, he reached blindly for Luka’s hand. “Would you both join me for a little while?”
“Of course, Ro,” Patton nodded. “For as long as you want.”
Prev - Your New Seasons - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]
Roman meets Ire and learns more about the Hunters.
WC: 2279 - Rated: G - CW: discussions of thrall and vampires, injection
-
A day late but here! Day 3 of @royalityweek, Flowers and Seasons
-
The inky grey sky shifted to a thin, pale pink as they made their way downtown. Roman still held the Hunter’s hand, fingers comfortably locked together as Pathos matched his pace. He moved with a confident grace, not delicate and light on his feet like some a dancer or a cat. More like a big draft horse or a…
“Is it true?” Roman whispered, thumb still absently stroking the soft fur on the back of Pathos’ hand. It had receded somewhat, but was still thicker than most men’s. And impossible for Roman to ignore any longer, no matter how soothing it was to touch.
Pathos smiled gently as they walked, waiting for his question. The tiny twitches in his gaze as they crossed streets and passed alleyways, told Roman that, despite the attention he gave him, the Hunter was still vigilant for dangers.
Roman broke eye contact. “Are some Hunters really werewolves?”
“Hmmm…” Pathos hummed, low and gravelly, almost a growl. No—a rumble. When his old dog had pups she used to do that, a quiet sound at the back of her throat when her pups drank. Roman should be terrified but he found himself moving closer. “Werewolves are impervious to a vampire’s thrall,” he said instead of answering directly. “The first Hunters in the Carpethian Guild were all fully human…” He shook his head, sunny features drawn tight. “Dracula turned them into his pets and used them for his pleasure.” He met Roman’s eyes. “Dracula and his spawn.”
Ice crackled in his veins. “The one who turned my brother?”
Pathos nodded and squeezed his hand as they walked. “It’s safer this way, both for the Hunters and for the people we’re protecting from those monsters.”
“But aren’t—I—” Roman looked away, clamping his mouth shut. Are you about to call him a monster to his face?
Instead of showing anger, Pathos smiled and stopped. Clasping Roman’s hand between both of his own, he hummed thoughtfully. “The earliest Wolves in the Hunter’s Guild couldn’t control their transitions. It’s true. They required… handlers.”
His smile grew and he turned his hand, backside up. When Roman looked, the hair there grew thicker, right before his eyes. “We’ve developed new hybrids with infinitely more control. It takes a little practice, but…”
Pathos’ voice had changed, deeper, with a wet rasp to it. Roman forced his eyes up and shuddered. The Hunter’s face had changed, his blond curls spreading down his forehead and along his cheekbones and over his neck. Soft fur tufted up at his collar and Roman swore he was taller, his overcoat tighter at the shoulders.
Sharp teeth glistened in his mouth, grown in both size and number. In fact his entire jaw had elongated. Not entirely wolfish. But not entirely human, either.
But his eyes… his eyes had kept their soft blue shimmer. And he smiled down at Roman. “I am a better Hunter this way. A better protector,” he murmured. The Hunter’s low, rumbly voice melted away the fear growing in Roman’s chest. “Can you trust me like this?”
“Yes,” Roman said immediately, surprising himself. “I—I don’t know how, but…” He took a deep breath, watching Pathos’ eyes soften even further. It was then he realized the Hunter had been afraid. Afraid he’d lost his trust? Roman smiled. “Yes, I trust you.” Pathos nodded and, still smiling, shifted back. Not all the way, but enough that his teeth were left looking mostly human, and his claws retracted, leaving blunt, plain nails. Roman played at the edges of his fuzzy hand.
“You have good instincts. I pledged to protect you, Roman, and I meant it. Wolves are fierce fighters. We are also fiercely loyal.” He turned and they resumed their walk. “Just as you were loyal to your brother.”
Pathos’ use of the past tense sat heavy in his stomach, but Roman nodded. “I can’t let that bloodsucker hurt anyone else. I won't.”
“Neither will I.”
~
They walked in near silence for several more blocks. Roman’s feet grew heavier with each step, his brother’s steel-toed Docs dragging against the dirty concrete sidewalk. Re would kill him for borrowing them without asking. Each night Roman had laced them up it was a silent plea to the universe that he’d find him so his brother could chew him out for scuffing the edges of his favorite boots.
He shivered, his own mental mental image of his brother chewing him was suddenly way too… real.
“We’re nearly there, Roman,” Pathos said as he drew closer. He squeezed his hand, not-so subtly checking his nail beds and flashing a pointed look at his eyes. “Do you see the brownstone up there by the dogwood trees?”
The corners of Pathos' lips quirked and Roman tilted his head as he looked back at the Hunter. “Dogwood?”
Pathos grinned, his entire face blooming with joy. “Mm-hm,” he hummed, laughter buzzing just beneath his words. “Fitting for our headquarters, don’t you think?”
It was probably little more than delirium, but a laugh bubbled up from Roman’s chest and he shook his head. “I figured puns like that would make you barking mad.”
Armed to the teeth—and with the inch-long canines to prove it—Pathos grinned impossibly wide, a delighted giggle bursting out from his dangerous looking mouth. “Oh, I’m never one to raise my hackles at a good pun!”
“I am,” a low voice seemed to come from everywhere at once. Roman’s head jerked up. A tall man with long, bright carrot-colored hair plaited down the center of his back glared at him.
Pathos stepped closer, one hand sliding up to Roman’s shoulder. “Ire, I’d like you to meet my new friend.” He raised both eyebrows at him and Roman suddenly recalled Pathos’ promise to protect his name.
Nodding to Ire, he smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Roman.”
Ire looked unimpressed. “You said you were hunting the spawn, not picking up some random human.”
“Now, Kiddo, be nice.” Pathos led him up the stairs as though the 6 foot… 6? 7 inch tall man was a toddler on the verge of a tantrum. “The new spawn was Roman’s brother.”
Embers smoldered in Roman’s gut and he forced his jaw to unclench, hoping to hide the rage simmering just within his control. Ire still caught it.
“This is not a social call, then?”
Pathos shook his head and Ire looked between them for a long moment before suddenly smiling at Roman, canines poking into his bottom lip. He offered his hand and hummed in approval when Roman gripped it with equal fervor. “Welcome, then.”
~
While Ire had been gruff, even angry out on the porch, he softened once the door closed, drawing Pathos close and rubbing the side of his head against him. “I’m relieved you’re home safe, Pat,” he murmured, nearly too quiet for Roman to hear.
Pathos made that same little rumble, touching Ire back. Afraid of intruding in their intimate moment, Roman looked away, eyes tracing the little vestibule where they stood. A small wooden shoe rack sat in the corner and Roman crouched to unlace his—Remus’—boots and set them side by side on the rack.
“Thank you, Roman,” Ire said, dark brown, almost black eyes trained on him. He frowned then, and Roman stiffened, the disappointment in Ire’s eyes sending an almost physical ache through his bones.
Pathos inhaled deeply next to him and, like he had outside the bloodsuckers’ den, Roman had the sense the Hunter was… smelling him. “You’ve done nothing wrong,” he murmured after a moment and reached for his hand. “Well, not to us.”
Roman felt foolish but he was too tired to keep up a confident front. He simply looked to each of them and waited for these new… friends? Teachers? The sparks zinging across his skin each time Pathos touched him fit neither of those roles.
The two Hunters exchanged a look, elastic expressions holding an entire conversation without words. In the end, Pathos smiled and nodded, then turned to Roman. “Would you join us for some tea and something light to eat?” He glanced again at Ire, then added. “You have some decisions to make and…”
“What…” Roman shrank back, regretting his now bare feet. And the way Ire and Pathos stood between him and the front door. “What kind of decisions?”
Ire smiled and bowed his head. “If you’ll excuse me. This might be an easier conversation one-on-one.” Pathos nodded and moved to Roman’s side as Ire stepped down the hall. As though they'd heard his thoughts, both Hunters had spread out, leaving him a clear path to the exit. Ire waved. “I’ll be back with the tea.”
“Let’s go sit down in the den.” Pathos took his hand, the barest hint of his wolfish fur sprinkled over his knuckles and spilling up the back of his hand to his arm. Stroking his thumb over Pathos’ fuzzy skin, Roman realized he missed it.
Since when was he comfortable with werewolves?
Apparently, ever since he found out a bloodsucker murdered his brother.
Pathos led him to a dim, comfortably warm room at other end of the hall. An old grandfather clock, the real old fashioned kind with weights and a pendulum, ticked steadily in the corner, and an electric fountain bubbled at the opposite wall. The sun had risen during their walk and golden light filtered through the gossamer curtains adorning the big, floor-to-ceiling picture window.
The centerpiece of the room, though, was a giant circle of brightly colored pillows and cushions and blankets. A few small tables were scattered around, some with roses and wildflowers, others with coasters, ready to hold a drink. Pathos sat down near the middle of the cushions and tugged gently on his hand, helping him settle on a soft pile of pillows next to him.
Roman sank down into the fluff, a low sigh escaping his lips. The fatigue he’d been pushing away since he’d gotten Re’s message pulled him down to the floor and it took a moment for him to notice the blanket Pathos draped over his shoulders. And that lovely quiet rumble from the back of his throat.
But he couldn’t relax completely. He squeezed Pathos’ hand and met his eyes. “You said I hadn’t done anything wrong to you or to Ire…” The Hunter nodded, still smiling. “Who did I wrong? Re?”
“Oh, Roman, no…” His face fell and he scooted closer, arms wrapped around him. “No, you’ve wronged yourself. You look exhausted… and…” A hint of a smile tugged up one corner of his mouth as he tapped his ear. “Even without the fur, I’ve got the wolves’ senses. I’ve been listening to your stomach growl for the past hour or so.”
“Oh,” Roman said, looking down at his hands. He’d assumed his decision would be about what amends he would make to whomever he’d wronged. “So what do I need to decide?”
“If you really want to join us,” Pathos said immediately. “Now that you know…”
Roman traced lines over the back of Pathos’ hand. “Ire is a werewolf, too, isn’t he?”
“All Hunters are now.”
“So… H—how does it work?” Roman squirmed in his seat, fear dueling with the insistence that Pathos would protect him even from himself. “Do you… bite… me?”
“Roman, of course not!” Pathos almost laughed. He reached for Roman’s face, shaking his head gently. “No, no we are not the animals the bloodsuckers are. No… a long time ago, that was the only way. We’ve made advances since then. You get an injection. It…” He swallowed but kept his gaze. “It is painful for the first couple of days,” he admitted. “But that’s why you have your pack to care for you.”
“My pack?” Re had been the closest thing he had to a pack. And now he was gone. “I…" Roman's throat closed and he pushed out the rest of his words. "I don’t have one.”
“Of course you do,” Pathos smiled and rubbed the side of his head against his temple. “Ire and I are your pack now. If you want us.”
“You don’t have to decide immediately,” Ire said from the doorway. “We’ll have some time before…” He drew closer and handed each of them a tea. It was hot and sweet and eased the buzzing in Roman’s head.
Pathos nodded. “It's still a few days the new spawn will need to feed.”
Ire sipped his own cup. “Unless V finally puts his pet out of its misery and lets his spawn drain it.”
“Pet?” Roman asked. He was now leaning against Pathos’ shoulder, but the Hunter didn’t seem to mind. And frankly, he was too tired to sit up on his own. “You said that before about the… the humans at the bar.”
Pathos opened his mouth, but then closed it, sharp teeth digging into his lip. Ire answered instead. “The bloodsuckers need it to survive. But… when they leave enough in their victims that they’re still alive a feeding, well… a lot of people get addicted. Not just from the thrall, but the feeding itself.”
“And… V… the one who killed Re, he… he keeps one of these humans around?”
“For years,” Pathos’ lips curled in disgust. “And if… when we finally stake V, his pet will be released from his hold. V will be vulnerable after spawning.”
Ire nodded. “And his attention will be split. That’s when we’ll strike.”
“I want to help,” Roman sat up straighter. “Please?” He met each of their eyes, shoving down his fatigue, his grief, his weakness. He could be strong, he could help them. Pathos smiled, excited. Proud, even. Ire… Ire was harder to read, but he slid closer and rubbed their heads together with a tiny rumble.
“I’ll get the serum.”
~
Minutes later, Roman’s sleeve was pushed up and he lay curled in Pathos’ lap in the center of the den. “Are you ready?” he whispered in Roman’s ear.
“I’m ready,” he said aloud. He hardly noticed the prick of the needle, but the serum burned as it spread through his veins. He shuddered, fingers tangling in Pathos' sleeves.
“Shh, shh, shh,” Pathos murmured. Roman realized he'd begun to whine. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”
Cold followed the burn and Roman’s eyelids grew heavy. “It’s not so bad now,” he mumbled.
Pathos tightened the blankets around him and settled him close to his chest. Eyes closed, Roman felt Pathos reach for Ire’s hand. “We’ll be right here with you through it all, little pup,” Ire murmured.
Armed with nothing but one last, rambling text, Roman wanders the streets searching for his missing twin. When he encounters a strange man with the news he was dreading and Roman learns exactly what happened to his brother, his choice is simple.
When Pathos encounters a familiar face, impossibly alive, his heart and mind align and he seeks to protect him the only way he knows he can.
A stand-alone @royalityweek story set in the universe of Beside Me, Dee, and the upcoming Thrall.
