by Alex Kidwell
“Oh no, all of my ideas were specifically for you.” Victor’s expression took on a hint of embarrassment. “I made a spreadsheet and gave the ideas a numerical value with how much I thought you’d like them, then ranked them accordingly.”
And that was, hands down, one of the hottest things Randall had ever heard. “Tomorrow?” he asked, moving just a little closer, repressing the urge to ask to see the chart. Maybe after, if the date went well. “I have work until seven, but after that, I’m free.”
“Perfect. I’ll take you out to dinner,” Victor said. He reached forward to take Randall’s hand, grasping it tightly. Randall turned his fingers to catch against Victor’s, smiling again at the simple touch.
“Where did dinner rate on the list?” he asked in a teasing murmur.
“Actually, third. But the first two ideas would require a whole day,” Victor replied.
Surprise hit Randall. He couldn’t even imagine Victor spending time thinking about him, thinking of things he might enjoy. “You planned a day with me?” Randall honestly couldn’t believe someone so wanted to spend that much time with him that they’d purposefully plot out a way to fill the hours.
“More like eight,” Victor clarified. “And that’s just dates that take place in establishments around the city. I’ve yet to get really creative with my date ideas. I’m afraid I’m a bit out of practice—”
Pulling Victor forward, Randall caught his lips in a kiss. All his life, he’d had his brothers. The three of them had been everything to each other. And while Randall had dated on occasion, while he’d had friends, no one had ever put that much thought into him before. Anthony and Edwin, yes, but this was wildly different. So he kissed Victor, because he had a chart with dates, whole days’ worth of plans. Because he’d driven all the way out here just to tell Randall he’d gotten better.
Because he was the most wonderful man Randall had ever met. And that part of him, Randall was beginning to see, hadn’t changed at all.
When they parted, Victor brought his hand up to lightly touch the base of Randall’s throat. “That biting thing,” he said, “is that strictly for sex, or can I do it any time, with your permission?”
A shaky laugh escaped Randall, and he cupped Victor’s jaw, thumb rubbing along his cheek. “Anytime,” he managed, voice barely more than a rumble, “though I have to admit, I can’t promise I won’t simply start tearing clothes off.” But he tipped his chin back, baring his throat, a surge of anticipation, of rightness, sinking into his gut just from the action.
Instead of the bite he expected, he felt the light touch of Victor’s lips, then the brush of his nose, as if Victor were scenting him. “Then I’ll keep it chaste for now,” Victor said, a similar laugh under his words. “Because I should let you get an early night, if I don’t want you falling asleep during our dinner tomorrow night.”
“Coffee,” Randall reminded him, his breath caught in his chest. “I said I’d make coffee.” And something about pie. Though he was finding it hard to think about anything other than Victor.
“Then I’ll help.” Victor inhaled. “Sometimes I envy the wolf nose. It’s so much more useful than what my blood gives me.”
“I don’t smell that great.” Randall shrugged, his fingers tracing down Victor’s neck to rest lightly on his shoulder. “And I think what you can do is incredible. You are incredible.”
A shout came from the dining room. “Where’s the pie?” Jed’s voice interrupted the moment, sending Randall jumping slightly away from Victor.
Sagging back against the counter, Randall started to laugh a little helplessly. “It’s coming,” he called back. “Hold your horses.”
Victor gave a sigh of exasperation. “I’ll get the pie, you make the coffee? I’d be an awful barista, I’m afraid.”
“Tea’s in the cupboard,” Randall said, going to switch on the coffeepot. “If you’d prefer that. It’s not a very good brand”—he’d cut out that luxury weeks ago—“but it’s… no, I’m sorry, it’s terrible and weak. I can’t say anything nice about it. Please don’t have the tea.”
“Coffee, then,” Victor agreed, bemused. “And some decent tea at dinner tomorrow.”
They worked together well, Randall noticed. It was in the simple things, like how Victor reached up to grab the cups before Randall could ask, how when Randall held out the sugar, Victor was there with the cream. It was simple and lovely, achingly so, domestic in the most warming way. They carried the plates and cups and the pot of coffee out to the dining room. Randall ignored the significant looks from everyone, choosing instead to serve dessert and take his seat.
He just had coffee. But it was nice to sit next to Victor, leaning just barely against his shoulder, the weariness of the day easing slightly.
“I haven’t heard from the pack,” Jed was saying, taking a huge bite of his pie. “But I’m guessing they’ll have moved again by now.”
“I thought you said you took care of things?” Edwin looked a little worried, carefully pulling all of the fruit out of his pie to pile it on the side of his plate so he could attack the crust alone. “Are they still being hunted?”
“Oh, we took care of things,” Jed snorted. “Anthony and I showed Leo who was the goddamn boss.”
“Jed was badass,” Anthony agreed. “It was like every action movie I’ve ever seen, except with less motorbikes and slow motion.”
“Hey, we could have had motorbikes, sweetheart.” Jed waved his fork at Anthony. “Next time we will definitely have bikes.”
Redford sighed, like he put up with ludicrous requests from Jed all the time. Anthony just nodded in satisfaction and added, “And cool leather jackets and sunglasses.”
Jed, his arm slung casually around Redford’s shoulders, pointed at Anthony. “Yes. Yes, exactly. There is no point at all to a cool bike if you don’t have the right accessories.” He gave Redford a pointed look, as if this was a conversation they’d had before.
Under the table, Victor’s pinky finger brushed against Randall’s. It was like a little shock of heat, a slide of skin as their fingers hooked together, and Randall had to duck his head to hide his smile. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Victor look at him, seeming just as content as Randall was.
Jed grinned. “You should have seen your brother. Growled at this woman, got her to unclench right up and let us upstairs.”
“Yes, and it was really rude and you should never do that to anyone, Edwin,” Anthony said. Edwin snorted, giving Anthony a look.
“Fuck that, do it, it was awesome,” Jed said, tipping back in his chair. “I would have had to pull out a gun to get that kind of response.”
“So you’re sure this O’Malley person isn’t going to be hunting the pack anymore?” Randall asked. “Not that I’m doubting your manliness—”
“Damn straight. We were manly as hell,” Jed informed him.
“I’m sure,” Randall continued dryly. “But you think the pack is truly going to be safe now?”
Jed cut a glance over at Anthony and sighed, shrugging. “Maybe? I mean, I don’t know how safe a big group of wolves is ever going to be, not with things being what they are.”
“That’s why they moved again,” Randall surmised.
“I would have.” Jed nodded. “Once someone finds you, doesn’t matter if they stop hunting. Your cover’s blown. You have to find someplace new. Leo might be done in the hunting business, but if he’s telling the truth about the vampires, it probably won’t be the end of it.”
“It won’t be,” Victor murmured. “There’s much bigger things yet to come.”
There was a long beat of silence, all of them exchanging looks, the jovial mood dampened by a sense of very real dread. Randall let his hand slip farther into Victor’s, tightening his grip slightly. Jed was the first to react, snorting faintly. “No offense, princess,” he said plainly, “but I don’t buy this whole seeing the future shit. There’s no such thing as fate or destiny or whatever you want to call it. Bad shit is co
ming, because bad shit is always coming. But nothing’s set in stone.”
Instead of arguing the point, Victor just smirked and said, “I’m disappointed, Jed. I said ‘much bigger things yet to come,’ and you didn’t make a dirty remark about it?”
“I just assumed you were talking about my cock,” Jed returned with a grin. “Or maybe you were busy with your mind in the gutter. I’m surprised you two are back in here with your clothes on.”
“Please.” Victor snorted. “The last thing I want to think about is what’s in your trousers.”
“Too bad.” Jed clucked his tongue in disappointment. “It’s definitely worth more than a few thoughts.”
“As fun as this conversation is,” Randall broke in, surprised to find how hard he was scowling at Jed or how tightly he’d gripped Victor’s hand, “it’s getting late, and I have to be up at six.”
“If you guys don’t want to drive all the way back, we have a guest house, of sorts,” Anthony offered. “It’s out back.”
Victor looked surprised. “Really? I’d never noticed before. I recall you mentioning that you’d built this place. Did you build that too?”
Anthony grinned proudly. “Every inch of it. The rooms are small, but there’s two of them above the workshop. We can get it set up for you, if you want.”
“Anthony’s really good at that stuff,” Edwin said, beaming just as proudly. “He made these chairs too. And this table.”
“He’s very talented.” Randall gave Anthony a smile. “And his ego doesn’t need inflating.” That was said fondly, teasing, because Anthony should be given all the accolades he could get.
“You guys should stay,” Edwin urged. “You can stay a few days!”
“Edwin,” Randall sighed.
But Edwin just kept going, straight over Randall’s gentle protest. “We can go hunting tomorrow! And there’s a lake out back. I have to go into town tomorrow, but you guys can stick around with Anthony in the afternoon.”
Jed, Randall suddenly realized, wasn’t nearly as lazy or laid back as he’d been pretending. His gaze had been going over everything since he’d come in; now he pinned a look on Anthony. “How’s the treatment going?” he asked, not a trace of his usual flippant attitude in his voice.
“It’s fine,” Randall answered. “We’re doing fine.”
But Jed just quietly waited for Anthony to answer, gaze unwavering.
“It’s… progressing?” Anthony grimaced. He’d paused halfway in spearing a chunk of pie on his fork, suddenly looking like his appetite had been lost. “I’m still waiting on a verdict. But it’s a hell of a lot more comfortable than Cedric’s bad chairs.”
Jed and Redford looked at each other, seeming to have a whole conversation without speaking. “Yeah, we’ll stay,” Jed decided. “Hell, I never did get to go fishing. We’ll just use your lake.” Jed nodded at Anthony. “That okay with you, Lassie?”
“As long as you’re okay with catching tiny fish,” Anthony snorted. “It’s not as fruitful as it used to be.” There was an undercurrent of sadness to Anthony’s words. The fact that the lake had shrunk, that the fish were smaller and less numerous now, was not something they often talked about.
“Never caught any kind of fish.” Jed shrugged. “Unless they were fried and slathered in tartar sauce. I won’t know the difference.”
Anthony nudged Edwin with his elbow. “Ed, can you get started on getting the guesthouse ready?”
“I’ll do it,” Randall said. And yes, maybe he gave Victor a little sideways glance. “I’ll just grab some sheets and blankets.”
“You’ve been working for fourteen hours today,” Edwin pointed out. “You look like you’re going to fall over, and you stopped sleeping, like, three days ago.”
“It’s making up beds, Edwin, not running a marathon.” Randall got up, going to the hall cupboard and starting to pull out the linens. “I think there are pillows in the cedar chest over there. Do you need more than one each?”
Jed and Redford shook their heads, so Randall set about gathering everything they needed. Anthony looked like he wanted to help, but at a stern look from Randall he sat back down. Redford and Victor helped him carry everything over to the guest shed, as they called it, while Jed went out to the Jeep to gather up the few things they’d brought with them.
The first room had a queen-sized bed. Jed took the sheets from Randall’s arms and very politely kicked him out. “We’re going to sleep,” he informed Randall. “And we can make our own bed.” With a leer, he winked at Victor. “Get some earplugs, princess.”
“Please don’t have sex in our guest bed,” Randall sighed. Jed did not look like he was going to listen, simply grinning at them both and shutting the door in their faces.
He led Victor to the other side of the attic area, the room that was directly above Anthony’s workshop. “This room is smaller,” he apologized, opening the door and switching on the light. “But it has a balcony.” The bed was facing the double doors, the balcony overlooking the dark woods. There was a skylight above, the sky scattered with pinpricks of light.
“It’s nicer than my house. And I live in a mansion,” Victor said, admiring the room.
“Now I know that’s a lie.” Randall smiled absently as he spread out the sheets, setting about making the bed. “The bathroom is that door we passed on the right. Only one here, I’m afraid, so you’ll have to share or come over to the main house.”
“It’s perfect,” Victor assured, moving to the other side of the bed to help Randall with the sheets. “It was obviously built with love.” He hesitated before adding, “Am I wrong in guessing that this place has something to do with Anthony’s mate?”
A sad, rueful smile touched Randall’s lips. He moved over to turn off the light, reaching out to take Victor’s hand and lead him carefully to the balcony. When they stood outside, the lake was like a shimmering blanket spread out in front of them, the stars reflected in the inky black. “He built it for Vil. I think he really thought Vil would come back. It was going to be theirs, and Edwin and I would have the main cabin to ourselves. Originally, the whole top floor was the bedroom. The bottom floor was going to be the kitchen, a den with a huge fireplace lined with river rocks….” Randall sighed, shoulder rising in a shrug. “But he stopped. I think he realized that Vil was gone. We turned it into a workshop and these bedrooms. Ant always said if we got married we could live here, but I don’t think either one of us could. It’s not ours.”
It was Anthony’s. It was yet another dream he’d given up for his brothers.
“Come on.” Randall gave Victor a slight smile, moving to turn the light back on, ruining the view in favor of finishing making the bed. “You look tired. I should let you get some sleep.”
Victor approached him, reaching out to take Randall’s hands. “Where shall I meet you for dinner tomorrow?”
“My room?” Randall squeezed his fingers gently. “I’ll come straight home and change. I have to be at the library at seven tomorrow morning, and then I have a half shift at the grocery store, but I should be back home by seven at the latest. And then I’ll have one of my rare days off for Anthony’s appointments, so we don’t have to worry about being out too late.”
“All right. I’ll borrow Jed’s Jeep so I can drive us out.” Victor leaned in to brush a kiss over Randall’s cheek, the contact lingering. “Sleep well, Randall.”
“Sweet dreams, Victor.”
Dreams were not something Randall was on the best terms with. Before Cairo, his idea of a nightmare had been being naked in class without his homework. But then….
Well. And then he’d been collared like a dog, he’d been fed from, and he’d honestly thought, to the very bottom of his being, that he was going to die like that. Or worse, that he’d live, that he’d be broken down and used as a pet for the vampires’ amusement. There was no one, he’d known, who could have saved him. His brothers wouldn’t even know something was wrong until it was too late.
In t
hose days, Randall had been utterly helpless. Shifting only got him more abuse. They didn’t even like feeding from him, he apparently smelled terrible to them, but they’d done it. Not to slake their hunger, but to cause him pain. They thought it was funny.
Randall hadn’t spoken about Cairo to his brothers. He saw no need to. They knew he’d been taken, that he’d been rescued, and now he was back home. They knew he covered his arms now, that he wouldn’t appreciate someone commenting on his neck. And that was all. What was the point of dwelling on it? Anthony and Edwin had enough real problems without Randall’s imagined ones. He was alive. That should have been enough.
That night, though, when he closed his eyes, when his brain put him right back into those moments, it didn’t feel like enough. It felt like he was dying all over again, that fear eating him from the inside. He couldn’t move, couldn’t fight back. He was helpless.
Waking with a start, Randall lay in bed, panting, trying to get his racing heart under control. His shirt was soaked through with sweat, his sheets a twisted tangle around his legs. Slowly, he forced himself up, so exhausted it felt like every movement was lifting a mountain. He tugged off his shirt, grimacing at how clammy and overheated he felt.
It was four in the morning. He had two hours until his alarm would go off. Randall desperately needed the sleep, but he found himself utterly unwilling to risk another dream. He checked in with Anthony, who for once was sound asleep, tugging the covers back up around his brother’s shoulders. Edwin was sprawled out in his bed on his back, limbs everywhere, Knievel dozing on his chest. Everything was quiet and still.
Randall shivered in the cool night air as he slipped outside, still shirtless. He made his way down to the lake, wandering aimlessly. The huge sky overhead reminded him that he was free, that he wasn’t shoved into a dank hole to die. With his bare toes wiggling in the wet mud at the edge of the lake, Randall considered it. It used to be bigger, the lake, when Vilhehn and his family had been here. The fish had been huge and numerous; lush plants had grown at the edge. Now it was so much less.
