by P. G. Forte
“Good evening, Papa.” The breezy, confident tone of Damian’s voice was marred by the thinnest thread of worry. Otherwise he hid his feelings well, far better than Conrad who only just barely managed to conceal a grimace. Papa. The name by which they’d agreed Damian should address Conrad in public. Never had it struck so sour a note. “Will you allow me to introduce my friend Paul to you?”
Would he allow it? An interesting question. And how clever of Damian to make it seem as though Conrad actually had any choice in the matter.
Still annoyed, Conrad allowed his gaze to lock with Damian’s and time lost its meaning. The look in Damian’s eyes was one Conrad had seen countless times before. There was something Damian wanted tonight, something he wanted very badly and only Conrad could give it to him. Oh, if only it were the same thing that Conrad wanted—just as badly—from Damian. It wasn’t however, and Conrad knew it.
“Certainly.” Smiling determinedly, Conrad turned his gaze to the other man, only to find his eyes had narrowed suspiciously. Conrad extended his hand all the same. “Paul, is it?” he murmured in dangerous tones, practically daring the boy not to take his hand. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
The young man clenched his jaw and said nothing.
“Paul,” Damian prodded softly. The plaintive note in his voice nearly undid all of Conrad’s good intentions. Who was this boy that Damian—nearly as stiff-necked and proud as Conrad himself—should feel obliged to beg?
Paul shot Damian an angry look then reluctantly forced a smile. “Very pleased to meet you too,” he said his eyes still flashing a challenge as he shook Conrad’s hand, squeezing it with all-too-tight a grip.
Conrad sighed in annoyance. He sent an appealing glance in Damian’s direction, apologizing for what he was about to do, then he too tightened his grip, just enough to pull a gasp of pained surprise from Paul’s lips.
Damian cleared his throat and frowned pointedly at Conrad, but Conrad had already released Paul’s hand. “So, tell me, Paul,” he said, smiling at them both. “How did you and my son meet?”
“Son. Right.” Paul snorted quietly. “Well, actually, if you must know, we first met—”
“At a bar here in town,” Damian finished quickly. “Just a few months ago. You know how we’ve discussed bringing in another couple of tutors for the twins? After talking to Paul, I thought he might be just what we were looking for.”
“Did you?” Conrad hadn’t missed the angry look that passed between the two men. He wondered what he wasn’t being told this time. Before he had a chance to pursue it, or Damian to respond, a chant broke out in the room around them.
“Ten…nine…eight…”
The countdown to the New Year had begun. Conrad’s lip curled into a rueful smile as he once again met Damian’s eyes. In seasons now long since passed, they might have heralded the New Year’s arrival with a kiss. Or even, perhaps, with a more intimate display of their mutual devotion.
“Seven…six…five…”
Right now, their masquerade as father and son precluded any sort of intimacy in public and the sins that lay between them kept them apart the rest of the time, as well. But it didn’t always have to be that way, did it?
“Four…three…two…”
Someday, perhaps, there would come a time when all these petty constraints would be lifted and the two of them might ring in the New Year as they once had done. Someday. Perhaps.
“Happy New Year!”
The entire room erupted in a cheer and Paul, who was under no constraints whatsoever, turned suddenly toward Damian. He clasped Damian’s head between his hands and kissed him—hard and fast and far too intimately for two men who were mere acquaintances. If Conrad had still retained any doubts, that kiss would have resolved them. The two were lovers, but he already knew that. What he didn’t know, and what he needed to know, badly, was how deeply entrenched Damian’s heart had become.
Damian grasped Paul by the shoulders and pushed him away, breaking the kiss. His face was white with shock, his eyes wide with fear, but for once, Paul seemed not to notice Damian’s distress. Instead, he turned to Conrad with an insufferably smug smile on his face. “And a very Happy New Year to you too.”
Conrad could feel his temper boiling rapidly away. There were only two things keeping him from exploding in rage, the look in Damian’s eyes and what was left of his common sense. He could certainly kill Paul. In fact, at the moment, he’d have liked nothing more. But to do so now, to reveal his true nature here, in this room full of people, would mean a death sentence for the twins and himself and for Damian as well. No amount of insolence was worth that.
With his self-control stretched taut, Conrad once again appealed wordlessly to Damian. The message in his gaze was clear, or so Conrad hoped. Get him away from me. Now. Or else.
“Come, Paul.” Damian’s hand closed on the other man’s arm. “Let’s see who else we might introduce you to.”
Conrad didn’t bother watching them go. They couldn’t leave his sight quickly enough. He rolled his head from side to side, hoping to ease the tension in his neck. His jaw ached from the strain of keeping his fangs retracted. The bitter tang of venom flooding his mouth did nothing to sweeten his temper. Patience, he counseled himself. The boy was just a momentary annoyance. Damian was fickle and sure to tire of him soon. Even if he didn’t, Paul was what—maybe twenty or thirty years old? Whatever. He’d likely be dead within the next half-century—probably sooner, if this reckless behavior was his norm. Conrad could afford to wait.
Unless Damian asked Conrad to turn the boy…
For a moment, cold fear clutched at Conrad’s heart. Why should Damian not ask? How could Conrad refuse him if he did? Then he remembered. It was impossible. No matter how infatuated Damian might be, it must have occurred to him that a newly made vampire was not someone they could trust with the twins’ secret. Fledglings were far too fragile, too easily swayed. Their characters had yet to be tested. Nor could they afford to trust any human with such dangerous knowledge either, which meant Damian couldn’t be planning on telling Paul about even his own vampiric nature.
That gave Damian what? Five years? Maybe ten years at best, before the fact that he wasn’t aging became too apparent and he had to let Paul go. Ten years. Yes, Conrad could definitely wait that long.
Chapter Thirteen
“What were you thinking?” Damian pushed Paul into his bedroom then shoved him roughly away. The boy staggered a few steps before he regained his balance. Damian watched him stumble with savage joy. Even that small amount of violence eased a little of the tightness in his chest. He locked the door behind them, still struggling to regain some part of his temper, to tamp down a little more of his fear. At least he’d managed to keep his voice pitched low—so far. He still wanted to scream at the top of his lungs. He wanted to let down his fangs, turn on the boy and scare a dozen years off his misbegotten life. Instead, he growled angrily, “What happened to, ‘I can be discreet’?”
“What happened to ‘I live with my dad’?” Paul shot back.
Damian frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“Dude! Do I look stupid to you or something? That guy out there? There’s no way he’s your father. I don’t care what you say.”
“Keep your voice down!” Damian admonished. “Why would you think something like that?”
“Gee, I dunno. Maybe the way he looks at you? Or the way you look at him?”
“And what way is that?” Damian asked after a moment. He wasn’t entirely certain he wanted to know, but his curiosity was aroused. “How does he look at me?”
“How do you think he looks? He looks like he’s in love with you.”
“Sí. Of course, he loves me. As I do him. I told you—”
“No! Stuff it, all right? It ain’t working.” Paul shook his head in disgust. “I don’t fucking believe this. What the hell am I even doing here?”
“You’re here because you said you wanted to meet
my family,” Damian reminded him.
Paul snorted. “Yeah. What a joke that was.”
“You also complained we never went out in public and you promised to be discreet.”
“Yeah, well…you said your family was okay with you being gay, didn’t you? This don’t look like ‘okay’ to me. ’Sides, it was just one little kiss. At New Year’s, for Chrissake! Everyone kisses someone at midnight. It didn’t mean nothing, okay? What’re you getting so worked up for?”
“It wasn’t just the kiss.” Damian sighed in frustration. How could he possibly explain any of this? “You don’t understand.”
“Oh, you got that right. I don’t understand the first thing about this scene.” Paul threw himself down on the bed and glared balefully at Damian. “You’re fucking him, aren’t you?”
“Conrad? No. Certainly not.”
“Well, then he’s fucking you. Either way, you know what I mean. You’re lovers.”
“No. We are not lovers.” Not anymore.
“Yeah? Well, I don’t know why not. I mean, he sure wants to be.”
“Do you think so?” Damian laughed bitterly as he went to join Paul on the bed. “Then you’re very much mistaken. I assure you, Pablito, that is not the case. Not in a hundred years.”
Paul studied him for a moment in silence. “Ohhh, I get it now. You want him. Is that it?”
Damian sighed. He’d wanted Conrad from the first time he saw him. But when had it ever mattered what Damian wanted? “It’s not what you think.”
“Yeah, no shit. This is definitely not how I was thinking tonight was gonna go.” Paul leaned back on his elbows. “Not. At. All.” He stared uncertainly at Damian for a moment then said, “I don’t get it, D. Why all the lies? Why couldn’t you just tell me there was someone else when I asked you? Why’d you have to play games and lead me on?”
“I did not play games. I simply—” Damian stopped mid-sentence and shook his head. It was useless to try and explain that this party was the only way he could think of to unite the two aspects of his life. “This was a mistake.” It had all been a mistake—right from the start. Thinking he had any right to a life of his own. Thinking he could ever be free of Conrad’s influence. Thinking that he could get away with not altering Paul’s memory. Conrad had been right once again.
Damian’s lip curled. Of course Conrad was right. Conrad was always right, wasn’t he? Certainly he thought so. Maybe it was time Damian simply accepted it. “I’m sorry, Paul. I should never have brought you here tonight.”
“Why did you? Were you just using me to try and make him jealous?”
Damian swung around to stare at Paul. “Jealous?” He shuddered at the thought, remembering what a jealous Conrad was capable of. “Dios mio. No! Never that!”
“No?” Paul jeered. “You sure? Because, you know, if that was the case, I think maybe you should be thanking me for that kiss. ’Cause he was lookin’ pretty damn jealous to me.”
Damian scowled. “Foolish boy. You have no idea what you’re talking about and I hope you never find out. I was right to break things off with you last summer. I should never have gone looking for you again. I should have stayed away—for both our sakes.” No matter how much it had hurt at the time. No matter how lonely he’d become. At least they would have been spared tonight’s debacle. “That was a mistake as well. One I won’t make again, I assure you. I was wrong to think that anything good could come of this thing between us.”
“What?” Paul sat up quickly, eyes wide with alarm. “No! Baby, please, don’t say that. I didn’t mean it, okay? I swear I didn’t. I’m sorry, all right? I shouldn’t have been such a little bitch. Of course you weren’t wrong.” He wrapped his arms around Damian’s shoulders and hugged him tight. “This is good. What we have together, you and me, it’s very good, isn’t it? C’mon, you know it is. Admit it.”
“Is it good?” Damian turned his head to meet Paul’s gaze, startled by the pain in his eyes. Clearly Damian had not been the only one who’d suffered over the course of that seemingly endless summer. “Why? You don’t seem very happy tonight, Pablito. You didn’t seem very happy when you were complaining that we never go anywhere together. It seems I frequently make you unhappy. Don’t you think you’d be better off with someone else? I certainly do.”
“I don’t want someone else,” Paul insisted. “I want you. I love you, D.”
Love? Damian’s shoulders sagged. He shook his head sadly. “Oh, Pablito. Please don’t say that.”
Paul shrugged. “Sorry. I guess maybe that’s not what you wanted to hear, but I do all the same.”
“Well, don’t. I promise you, I’ll only break your heart.”
An ironic smile lifted the corners of Paul’s mouth. He stared at Damian without speaking, but the message in his eyes was loud and clear. Too late for that.
Damian dropped his gaze. “I’m sorry. This can’t work.” He tried not to think about the pain he’d already inflicted on Paul. What was done, was done, after all, and could not be undone. But, at least he could try and spare him any more pain. “You’ll be better off without me.” In time, the boy would get over his infatuation and the quicker the cut, the faster the healing.
Without a word, Paul got off the bed and started pacing, up and back a couple of times before coming to an abrupt stop right in front of Damian. “You know what? Fuck you, D. You don’t get to tell me how to feel, especially not when you’ve always got one foot out the door. You want to walk away from me again? Go ahead. At least, this time, you had the guts to tell me to my face, so I guess that’s something. But, either way this is your decision, not mine. You don’t get to pretend you’re doing it for my sake.”
“But that is why I’m doing it.” Damian stood and gazed sadly at Paul. “And if I had any other option, this is not what I’d choose. But, as it is…what else am I to do?”
Paul shrugged. “Stay. That’s a choice too, isn’t it? Why not choose that one?”
“Because this can never work out the way you want it to—never. And, in the long run, I’m afraid we’ll both have cause to regret it.”
“Okay, well…maybe we will. But so what? That’s life, right? If this is what we both want now, why not go for it? I’m not afraid, D. No matter what happens. I’ll risk it if you will.”
Damian smiled. He couldn’t help but be just a little amused by this turn of events. It was usually he who risked too much, who put his heart on the line and refused to count the cost. Is this really what he’d put Conrad through, over and over again? No wonder the man had grown tired of him!
“I don’t know what you’re so afraid of, D, but you gotta stop trying to protect me. I’m not a kid. I don’t need a daddy. I mean, maybe you do, all right? Maybe that’s what all this is about, this…this thing you’ve got going on here, whatever it is, between you and what’s-his-name. And maybe you think you need to be that for me too, but you don’t. That’s your issue, all right? It’s not mine. I can take care of myself.”
Damian shook his head, feeling very tired and very old. Not a kid? Oh, Paul. If only the boy knew how very ridiculous that sounded.
“Okay, look, maybe that’s not it. Maybe you’re doing this ’cause you think I can’t handle the fact that you’ve got someone else. Is that it? Because, you’re wrong, okay? I’m not saying it’d be my first choice, but who knows what the future holds. And I’m not afraid either. May the best man win, right? But, for now, if I have to share you with him…it’s no big deal, okay? I can deal with it. Just, please, don’t shut me out again.”
“Ay, Dios mio. For the last time, Pablito, I do not ‘have’ Conrad.” That, at least, was true, that was something that had never changed. It was something he’d always known, a fact Conrad had made certain he understood ages and ages ago, the very first night they’d slept together. Damian belonged to Conrad—not the other way around. Never the other way around.
Paul huffed out a frustrated sigh. “Right—and I’m crazy ’bout girls. But you know what?
Fine. Let’s pretend that’s the case. Doesn’t matter though, ’cause either way you definitely have me. Maybe that doesn’t seem like much. I mean, I’m nobody, all right? I know that. And I’ve got nothing to offer you but my heart. I’m not rich like he is. I sure as hell could never give you a house like this or buy you any of the kind of stuff you’re obviously used to, but—”
Whatever else Paul was going to say was lost when Damian kissed him. It didn’t matter anyway, he’d heard enough. The boy was adorable, precious, completely impossible to resist, and Damian was through trying. Why should he fight this anymore? Why not make them both happy instead, even if it could only be for a little while?
This time, it was Paul who broke the kiss. Holding Damian by the shoulders, he regarded him warily. “Damian. Holy fuck, that… Shit. That better not have been good-bye ’cause…oh, fuck, that’s…that’s just not fair. You can’t kiss me like that and walk away. You just can’t.”
Damian shook his head. “It wasn’t good-bye.”
“Yes.” Paul’s eyes closed. He breathed out a sigh of relief and a whispered prayer, “Thank you, God.”
Then they were reaching for each other again. Lips met. Teeth clashed. They both clung to each other as they stumbled toward the bed. Then they collapsed on top of it, jockeying for position before finally giving up and just holding each other, side by side.
At last, Paul pushed away. He lay there, breathing heavily, eyes scanning the room, while Damian contemplated the question of whether or not this was the right time to steal a little snack.
“So, this is your room, huh?” Paul asked. Damian nodded assent. “Damn, baby, what the fuck were you thinking? You live like a monk!”
Damian looked around. The Spartan, minimalist furnishings, while horrifically expensive, were really not reflective of his usual taste in décor, but at the time he’d picked them out—the previous summer, in the midst of a terrible fit of ennui during which he’d redecorated half the rooms in the house—he’d been feeling more than a little morose. “Perhaps you’re right. It doesn’t really suit me, does it? Perhaps I’ll redecorate again.”
