Bloodlines

by Alex Kidwell

  Randall noticed that some of the wolves didn’t cheer. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason in who did, though. The majority of them raised their voices in agreement, both young and old, men and women. Randall shifted uncomfortably, exchanging a glance with Victor, flicking a quick look over at Jed. Though he was still lounged back against Redford, Randall could see the sharpness in his gaze, the way his whole body had tensed. His hand had gone down to rest at his hip. Randall realized it was on his gun.

  Jed was the lone human in a very large, very rowdy crowd. And now someone was talking about human inferiority. Randall couldn’t blame him for being concerned.

  “I’m here tonight to reach out.” Phoenix seemed to look at each and every one of them, even though there were hundreds in attendance. “We are isolated. With our wolf packs and our half-blood dens, we only make ourselves weaker against the humans. Many of you know my philosophy, but for those who don’t I will gladly bend your ear. Believe me. I can talk all day if you’ll let me.”

  The crowd laughed, and Phoenix gave an easy, self-deprecating smile. Randall didn’t buy it. There was something a little too calculating about that smile.

  “I believe that we are superior. I believe that we are strong.” Another cheer from the crowd. “And I believe we have so much in common that we should acknowledge more than we do now. We realize the Earth we live on is a precious, sacred thing that should be cherished and protected, not destroyed like the humans so carelessly do. We understand that history is also sacred, that we are intimately connected to our past and our bloodlines. We understand that the family we choose is everything. The humans? They waste such things, they forsake their bloodlines and their history, they forsake their planet, they forsake their family.”

  Jed was sitting up then, tenseness practically radiating off of him. Randall pleaded silently with him to keep his mouth shut. Up on his stage, Phoenix paused to give a faint sigh, then continued. “We are better than that. Unfortunately, right now we are the minority. We must still keep ourselves hidden. We must shield our true natures from the humans so that their fragile little minds do not break under the strain of true knowledge. I am sick of it.”

  This time Randall winced at the sheer volume of the agreeing shouts of the wolves around him. He caught sight of Anthony, who was shaking his head, looking disgusted. And then he heard a low, rolling growl, a steady rumble of noise. He knew the sound of it. Looking around, he found Edwin sitting up, eyes narrowed at Phoenix.

  Giving a low bark under his breath, the noise nearly hidden in the applause, he nonetheless caught Edwin’s attention. Edwin looked over at him, gesturing up at Phoenix. Randall just shook his head. Yes, he knew that what was being said was unbelievable. He also knew that trying to do anything was suicidal. At the very least, it’d start a fight that wouldn’t solve anything.

  “Know that at this time I am not advocating war, or violence, or attacks on the humans,” Phoenix said. “They may be pitiable, but they do not deserve to die for their ignorance. Nor am I advocating walking plainly around the human cities as your true selves. I am here for other reasons. One, to share in your magnificent celebration. And two….”

  Phoenix trailed off and held out a hand to his left, palm up. There was a moment’s pause. The Gray Lady came through the crowd, wolves parting around her. She took Phoenix’s hand. He bowed low, kissing her knuckles in reverence. Randall took a sharp intake of breath, eyes going wide. That, he had not seen coming.

  “My lady,” he murmured, still loud enough for the microphone to pick up. “You look absolutely stunning tonight. I did not ask you to dance earlier, and I will never regret any inaction more.”

  The Gray Lady smiled at him. Randall couldn’t tell if she looked sincere or if she was just humoring him, maybe a mix of both. “Are you going to continue charming me, Phoenix, or should you continue your speech?”

  Phoenix gave a melancholy sigh. “If only I had the time to do both.” The Gray Lady’s smile was genuine then, small but privately pleased at the flattery. Phoenix turned back to the microphone, still holding the Gray Lady’s hand. “I propose a union,” he announced. “Of half bloods and wolves.”

  The shocked murmurings of the crowd were respectfully quiet, but Phoenix still paused to let them speak to one another for a few moments.

  “To ease your fears, no, I would not be suggesting that this camp suddenly be overrun with half bloods.” The murmurs turned into laughs. Phoenix smiled briefly. “A diplomatic union, of sorts, though I would be privileged to call it a family union. We would continue our lives as we do today, but with the added benefit of knowing we have allies everywhere. The half bloods in the cities, the wolves in the country. Wherever we would go, we would feel safer. We would feel even stronger.”

  Phoenix shared a silent look with the Gray Lady. “I have been told that human hunters threaten your home here, and that you are relocating. With this union, I would offer allies at your new home, as well as added protection for the smaller packs who might remain here.”

  “He’s offering them everything they could want,” Randall murmured to Victor, eyes locked on the stage. “I don’t know about you, but I stopped believing in Santa Claus when I was three.”

  Victor looked pained. “I wish I could believe him,” he whispered in reply. “Not about the superiority. But half bloods have never been a very solid community, not like wolves. A union would make them a community as they banded together to help the wolves here.”

  “It is a good idea,” Randall agreed, squeezing Victor’s hand, voice low, head tipping toward Victor to keep their conversation private. “I wish it could happen. Maybe someday. But not from him. I don’t know why, but I don’t trust him.”

  Phoenix seemed to have fallen silent to let the wolves discuss what he had said. Victor shook his head. “Neither,” he sighed. “Wasn’t Edwin a fan of this man? He didn’t seem to be too happy earlier.”

  “This is much more inflammatory than what I’d heard him speak of earlier.” Randall frowned. “I don’t know what Edwin’s heard, but I went to one of Phoenix’s speeches shortly after I got back from Egypt. He talked a lot about half-blood and full-blood unity, but not about humans.”

  “Full-bloods,” Victor mused. “Notice how he hasn’t mentioned vampires at all here. Smart of him, the wolves would second-guess the union if they thought vampires were going to be involved.”

  Phoenix was now chatting with the Gray Lady, the crowd muttering among themselves. Randall noticed that Phoenix kept his distance from all of them, aloof without being obvious about it. Eventually he waved at the gathering to thunderous applause and then stepped down. A few men emerged from the shadows and gathered Phoenix’s things, the group walking quickly back toward the road and the cars parked there. The Gray Lady turned to her pack and the half bloods who had joined them. “I think the food is not quite gone,” she said with a welcoming smile. “And there are drinks and music yet aplenty. Happy solstice to you all.”

  “Happy solstice,” the crowd returned, clapping, stretching and moving once again. Edwin darted around people to go to Jed and Redford, leaning in to speak with them. Anthony was shortly after, the four of them gathering for a moment before breaking up. Edwin looked slightly reassured, and Jed had lost the tight look to his face. Apparently they were happy that none of them had bought Phoenix’s speech.

  “We never did get that food.” Randall turned to Victor, giving him a small smile. “I believe we got distracted.”

  Victor still looked thoughtful, his eyes on the crowd where Phoenix had vanished. Randall’s words brought his attention back. At once, that tender expression that had been on Victor’s face while they danced made a return. “That we did. And look, I can even see some food on those tables that isn’t meat.”

  Victor stood and held out his hand. Randall took it, and Victor tugged him up with a smile. Such a simple, stupidly domestic action, but it had Randall all but beaming. He took Victor’s arm, and they walked to where the food
was spread out. They loaded up plates with some beautiful vegetables and thickly crusted bread. Randall didn’t even try to resist the delicious looking meat. There were even pies, hugely deep with flaky crust and plump berries. Plates weighed down with food, big cups of what had to be some form of wine in hand, they made their way back to the porch steps of Randall’s cabin.

  “I love eating outside,” Randall admitted as they started to eat. “There’s something about having the stars as your chandelier or a beautiful afternoon as your lamplight.” He laughed, poking his fork into the steak. “Probably the most wolfish thing about me.”

  Victor smiled as he ate. “I think medusas must have lived in caves,” he replied. “I’m at my happiest in dimly lit libraries. Then again, it may just have something to do with the fact that I attract mosquitoes by the flock.”

  “I had my first kiss in a library,” Randall informed him, grinning, ducking his head. “I was, uh, sixteen I think. There was this boy in my class who I think might have been sent on a dare. I was back doing research in the history section. He came up and gave me a peck on the cheek and then ran away. We never spoke again.”

  “I have a library at home.” Victor was giving Randall a look out of the corner of his eye. “With a far superior collection than you’d normally find in public libraries.”

  A beat passed, and Randall could feel a flush starting on his cheeks. “Oh?” he managed, trying to sound casual. “That sounds very interesting.” Darting a quick look over at Victor, he tried to control his smile. “Do you have a history section?”

  “An extremely thorough one,” Victor replied. “I even have a few books on subjects like Sarah Tarrant.”

  “Oh, I have recently discovered how thorough you are,” Randall murmured. “I think I’d like to see further evidence of that fact.”

  Victor flushed, though the hesitance he’d once worn didn’t make an appearance. “I’d like that too. Would you like to dance some more? You were….” Victor paused, maybe to gather his thoughts. “You were stunning out there.”

  Taking in a slow breath, Randall stared down at his plate. No one had ever said anything like that to him before. His mind scrambled through every book he’d read, all the stories, trying to think how to respond. Nothing came to mind. No tale he’d ever read, nothing he’d experienced, prepared him for the exquisite jolt of warmth through him, the nervous flutter in his stomach, the way his whole being seemed attuned to the tone of Victor’s voice, the slight hitch in his words, the breath he let slide out as Randall remained silent.

  Setting the food aside, Randall took a large gulp of his wine—it was stronger than he expected, and he coughed, wincing. But it gave him a little shot of courage, enough to stand, holding out his hand to Victor. Their fingers laced, and Randall pulled him in close, arms sliding around Victor’s waist. The music from the celebration was softer now, slower, with a raw throb through each of the notes. Randall rested his forehead against Victor’s as they swayed together, the red light of the fire bathing Victor’s skin.

  “You are so beautiful,” Randall murmured. “I don’t even know what to say to you half the time. I’m certain you think I’m a complete idiot.”

  “I think you’re the smartest man I’ve ever met.” Victor curled his fingers into the hair at Randall’s nape. “I went out to a bar last night. I wound up having a conversation with a brownie half blood. He managed to simplify things, about my feelings for you, for me in a way that I hadn’t managed in my own mind.”

  “You met a brownie?” Pulling back, Randall searched Victor’s face. “Really? What was he like? Did you know, I read a theory once that the alleged English and Scottish versions are actually their gender divisions? The English are the females and the Scottish are the males. Well, their equivalent, it’s actually not certain how they reproduce, and one book I read heavily implied that they don’t actually have two separate genders at all.”

  Victor laughed lowly and turned them slightly so Randall was looking over Victor’s shoulder to the bonfire. “You could ask him yourself. He’s right there.”

  There was a redheaded man talking with Edwin, the two of them laughing and dancing together in a loose-limbed sway around the fire. Randall grinned, shaking his head. “Leave it to my brother,” he murmured. “I swear, he’d fall in love with anyone and everyone.” His gaze returned to Victor. “I think I’m fine right here, though. I’ve found a much more interesting topic of study.”

  “As have I.” Victor huffed in amusement. “Besides, you wouldn’t want to go near him unless you want a secondhand high. Never in my life have I met someone who was that much of a stoner.”

  Crap. Randall started to laugh helplessly, watching Edwin and the brownie dance. “Well, then. Oh, Edwin. I hope Anthony stays close by. I shudder to think of Edwin on a munchie bender.” But it seemed innocent enough. The two of them collapsed in a heap together, Edwin happily cuddling and staring up at the sky. Randall’s attention was caught by Victor’s fingers lightly playing through his hair. His eyes half closed and he sighed, rocking into the touch.

  “A terrifying thought,” Victor agreed in a hum. He sounded distracted. There was more focus in the movement of his fingers than in his words. Every stroke seemed to pull Randall in closer, like the sensation was a hook straight to his gut, and he found he was making a low rumble of noise in approval.

  Around them, the music turned into a slow drumbeat, every pulse of it in the air seemingly matching the heartbeats of those around them. Randall could feel it in Victor’s chest, pushed close against his, could hear it whenever Victor swayed closer. Some of the wolves around them had turned, playfully chasing one another or slumped over one another in piles of fur.

  “What was simplified?” Randall asked, blinking the heavy, languid pleasure away so he could try and focus on words and not the feel of Victor’s body pressed tight against his own. “You said… before, you said things were made simpler. What did you mean?”

  “I’d be happy to tell you the specifics, if you like. For now, I’m not sure details matter.” Victor smoothed a hand down Randall’s spine, coming to rest at the small of his back. “I was very confused about how I felt about you. Now I know.”

  Strange, how so few words could completely stop his heart. Randall wished desperately he could look into Victor’s eyes, just for a moment, to search out the meaning without having to hear the almost certain rejection. Victor’s hand was like a brand on his back, their breaths all but intermingling, but Randall couldn’t let himself believe this was happening. He didn’t want to feel the disappointment again. “What do you know?” he finally dared to ask, gaze dropping away. “Or… no, don’t tell me. This night, it’s perfect. And I don’t have many perfect nights. I can just pretend, if you don’t say it.”

  “Now I’m not sure if I should respond.” Victor chuckled. “Isn’t it obvious, Randall? I’d hardly be dancing with you if I didn’t want to, and believe me, I’ve done some very out-of-my-way things to get out of dancing.” Their movements slowed as Victor looked up, his eyes coming so close to meeting Randall’s that he must be staring mere millimeters away from Randall’s pupil. “I can’t say for sure whatever our future would hold. But I do know that I’d like to see what happens.”

  There was a long beat of silence, and Randall was careful, so very careful, not to move his gaze downward to meet Victor’s. Instead he just tried to parse out all Victor’s words, sifting through each syllable, each inflection and drop of tone, trying to make sure he understood. Trying to convince himself it was real.

  “I’ve never been, uh, with anyone before,” he murmured, voice low and hoarse. “I want…. I want to. With you. If you do. I mean to say….” It was a lot harder to say this than Randall had been expecting. “I’d like it if you were my first.”

  Victor obviously hadn’t been expecting that so quickly. He blinked, clearly startled, and had to close his eyes—maybe because he was afraid of instinctively looking into Randall’s. “Inexperience doe
sn’t matter,” he said, a smile tugging at the edge of his lips. “And I’d like that too.”

  Relief hit Randall, and he grinned, giddy, so incredibly thankful he hadn’t said something horribly wrong. Fingers hooking into the front of Victor’s shirt, he lightly tugged Victor in, their lips meeting. The kiss unfolded with an aching slowness, a flame of want slipping in under Randall’s skin, hooking down into his gut, shuddering through him with a groan. “Your cabin?” Randall mumbled between kisses, hands sliding down to curl around Victor’s hips. “Please, Victor.”

  “You’re sure?” Concern wasn’t an emotion immediately evident in Victor’s face, but it was there. “It doesn’t have to happen immediately, Randall. If you’d rather wait—” He broke off as a howl lifted in the air. “—that’s okay with me.”

  The night was wild around them, the moon dancing with the stars. The fire burned brighter, painting the world in golds and reds. As the howl lingered in the air, Randall felt the surge of it in his blood, the answering sound tickling at his throat. Wolves around him lifted their own response, and Randall tipped his head back, his full, aching howl joining the chorus.

  When he dipped his head back down again, Victor was looking rather flustered. “Now is good,” Victor agreed hurriedly.

  The grin that stretched across Randall’s lips was positively feral. Lightly pushing Victor back against the wall of the cabin, Randall followed quickly, blanketing him, biting his lips, his jaw, nuzzling into his neck. “Now,” he murmured, voice a hoarse growl. “I like now.” The scent of the pack was difficult to ignore, the untamed celebration whispering to him, urging him to give in. To let his instincts run free. Randall was beginning to think that might not be such a bad idea. Victor certainly didn’t look like he minded.