by Megan Derr
Rostislav grimaced. "Don't worry, I've no desire to wind up the victim of whatever trap is laid on it or to have dead vampires on my conscious. Thanks for the information, Jackie. Good luck with the move and Roman. I hope it all works out; nice to see you finally have someone who appreciates you."
"Much obliged," Jackie said with a smile. "Get on with you, then. Take care, now."
"You too," Rostislav replied, and vanished, needing no circle to return home.
Home was an elegant apartment in the heart of the city. Unfortunately, home also felt depressingly empty and dreary after a night in Jesse's penthouse—in Jesse's bed, in his arms. Right where he'd wanted to be for longer than he liked thinking about.
It was one thing to secretly—pathetically—pine after a vampire. It was practically expected of humans who spent a good deal of time around them to become enamored in some fashion. But most abnormal humans adjusted and got over it.
Unfortunately, Rostiya might be immune to their predatory beauty, but that still left him quite capable of lusting after one on his own merits. Jesse's merits. His very fine, very tempting, and clearly irresistible merits.
The worst part was that at times Jesse had seemed to return his feelings. But Rostislav wasn't stupid enough to believe that—almost, obviously, but not quite.
God damn it. Rostislav drew a breath and let it out in a huff, walked over to his couch and dropped down, then swung his legs up to lay along the length of it, covering his face with one arm. When the silence grew too oppressive, and he could no longer stand his own melodrama, he sat up again and pulled out his phone. Hitting the first speed dial setting, he waited impatiently as it rang.
"Rostiya, I did not expect to hear from you again so soon. How is your case proceeding?" Johnnie greeted, voice smooth, contained, but with an undercurrent of warmth that he rarely showed anyone.
"Hey, Johnnie," Rostislav said, immediately feeling a bit better. Alongside being his best friend, Johnnie was the only person in his life who knew exactly how it felt to love someone who'd never feel the same. "That new job I got last night is turning into a bit of a puzzle."
"Oh? What kind of puzzle?"
"Someone is trying to convince me to break the curses on their so-called glass coffin, and I'm worried about what will happen if I mess with it. Just touching it for a minute or so left me nauseous. Need to do some research."
"Just a moment," Johnnie said, and then his voice grew muffled, but Rostiya could tell from the stiffening of his tone that he was speaking with Ontoniel, his father and the Dracula who owned the territory. "We are at Club Redd; Father says you should come and join us for dinner if you are so inclined. We have only just arrived ourselves."
If he's so inclined. As if anyone was allowed to say no to a Dracula once an order was issued, no matter how subtle or polite that order might be. Stifling a sigh, Rostislav replied, "Of course. I'll be there shortly, right after I get cleaned up."
"We will wait for you at the bar. Jesse is here as well."
"Great." Rostislav hung up and threw his phone on the coffee table, then went to get suitably dressed for Club Redd.
He appeared in front of the club thirty minutes later, wearing a dark gray suit and a violet tie. Inside, the host nodded him toward the bar, where the Dracula, Jesse, and Johnnie waited. Though Rostiya knew his looks were nothing to sneer at, he was no competition for two vampires in their prime and a human often mistaken for a vampire at first glance.
"Dracula," he greeted Ontoniel, bowing slightly. He turned to Jesse Adelardi, the owner of a popular hotel and casino, and another close friend of the Desrosiers, and gave a deep nod. He tried not to let his eyes linger, but even when he wanted to kill the bastard, Jesse was still so beautiful. That he was a vampire and therefore supposed to be beautiful was of little comfort.
His hair and eyes were a soft, dark gold, set in a handsome face that would make him highly coveted in any century. He was dressed in a tailored, Italian style suit, but would have looked just as comfortable and beautiful in medieval tunics or Regency finery. Rostiya was in no hurry to bring back previous centuries and all the ugly things that had transpired there, but he wished he could see Jesse in all the beautiful clothes he'd worn back then.
"Master Adelardi." He met Jesse's gaze and barely held back a flinch, assaulted with images he would give anything to erase from his mind: Jesse spread out on the bed, body gleaming with sweat. Jesse between his legs, mouth working his cock until he screamed. Jesse pounding into him, taking and taking—
Rostislav looked away and managed a smile for the last man. "Johnnie."
"Hello, Rostiya," Johnnie said, and finished off the last of his vodka rocks. "Our table is ready, and then you can tell me all about this glass coffin mystery."
Ontoniel frowned, shared a look with Jesse, but said nothing as they were escorted to their table, tucked back in a private corner where it was easy to see without being seen. After they'd been brought their drinks, Johnnie lifted his chin in silent query.
"I was hired by the Museum of Paranormal History—" he broke off at the derisive noises Jesse made, the tolerantly amused look on Ontoniel's face, and the contempt on Johnnie's. "I agree normals are silly, but the abnormal work done there is fascinating. Anyway, they found a glass coffin. They think it's the glass coffin, but I know very well it's not. My mentor, Jackson Black, destroyed that coffin decades ago, when he was barely more than a kid himself."
Jesse looked at him in surprise. "I did not know you apprenticed with Black."
"Not for very long, only about four years," Rostislav replied. He took a sip of his wine, and then continued, "The point is that I have seen the shards that remain. The coffin at the museum was found as part of the Belham estate—"
He broke off at the dark looks that fell over the faces of Ontoniel and Jesse. "Belham," Ontoniel said softly. "I heard they were all dead, finally. The estate sale was three months ago. I sent someone to attend it, but none of the lots were worth purchasing. There was no mention of a glass coffin. That I would have bought, and promptly destroyed."
"I see," Rostislav said, the prickle of unease he'd felt since taking the job unfurling into real alarm.
Johnnie quoted, in that way of his that had driven Rostiya crazy when they'd first met, "He came to me and said, that by the magic arts which were at his command, he had caused the lovely music to sound in order to awaken me, and that he now forced his way through all fastenings with the intention of offering me his hand and heart[1]."
"Indeed," Ontoniel said.
"It is an interesting story," Johnnie said thoughtfully. "If wholly unbelievable." He did not look at Rostislav as he said it, but it was hardly necessary. Johnnie loved his brother, Elam, Ontoniel's only blood child and the Alucard who would someday inherit the territory.
If ever there was a story that would strike a chord with Johnnie and him, it was that of a vampire and human who fell in love. The legend went that a man and woman had gotten lost in a storm, begged shelter from the vampire. They had, for reasons long lost, wound up staying with the vampire for an extended length of time. Eventually, the woman grew enamored of the vampire and, supposedly, the vampire returned her feelings. When she refused to leave with the other man, refused his suit in favor of the vampire, the man attacked them with his sorcery. The estate was destroyed, the servants killed in the destruction, save for a few who managed to escape. The woman was sealed in a glass coffin that could only be opened by a vampire who loved her, and any other vampire who opened it would be struck with a nasty curse that led to a slow and painful death.
It was powerful magic—dangerously powerful magic. Johnnie had posed the theory that the sorcerer must have summoned and bound a demon to have enough power to lay such curses. It was a theory that Jackie had confirmed when he had destroyed the coffin after the woman had been released.
Where the woman and her vampire were at present, Rostiya did not know. Jackie had always refused to say what became of them. He didn't even
know how Jackie had gotten involved in the matter to begin with.
"So what curses are laid upon this replica?" Ontoniel asked.
Rostislav did not reply immediately, waiting as the waiters appeared with the appetizers and to replenish drinks. When they had faded off again, he ate one of the lobster bites and then said, "There were several of them, enough that I'm not sure I was able to feel all of them out. There were strong wards against outright destruction, but that's common enough in such objects. A condition-trap, though I could not read the details of it. A Sleeping Beauty curse. I spoke with Jackie and we are in full agreement that vampires need to steer well away from it."
"I disagree," Johnnie said, drawing all their eyes. "Why would a vampire care? The only vampire who did care, supposedly, was the victim of the real glass coffin. I sincerely doubt that anything is gained by creating a glass coffin that draws in vampires in general. If that coffin is mean to attract anything, it's going to attract you. When that coffin becomes public knowledge, all manner of witches, sorcerers, and alchemists will be drawn to it." He took a sip of his vodka, then finished by quoting, "The desire of excessive power caused the angels to fall; the desire of knowledge caused men to fall[2]."
Jesse huffed with dry amusement over the rim of his own glass. "A trifle dramatic, but the point is a valid one. I for one do not care about an empty coffin covered in spells. But here you are up to your neck in solving the mysteries of it."
For a fleeting moment, Rostislav thought something close to concern filled Jesse's eyes—but then it was gone, and it seemed far more likely that he had just imagined it. Jesse had never shown any significant interest in him before the previous night; if Jesse was not close to the Desrosiers and Johnnie was not Rostislav's best friend, their paths would seldom, if ever, cross. "It's my job to break curses, which often takes a bit of research. I have no interest in the thing beyond that."
They all fell silent again as the waiters returned with dinner and more drinks. Rostislav ignored his, not wanting too much alcohol in his system. No, he had certainly been reminded of how stupid he became when he drank too much.
After several minutes of silence while they all ate, Johnnie said, "I'll see what I can find tonight, in regards to occasions when it might have been used. Sorcerers and witches going missing, overlapping with the presence of the Belhams, is probably an ideal way to start." He looked excited by the prospect.
"Have a care, John," Ontoniel said. "No one is going to like having that coffin dragged out and discussed."
"Yes, Father," Johnnie replied, voice going cool, all excitement fading from it.
Frustration flickered briefly across Ontoniel's face, but Johnnie as usual did not notice. Rostislav barely avoided shaking his head, amused and exasperated as ever by their complete inability to communicate successfully. Johnnie would never notice how deeply Ontoniel cared, and Ontoniel never seemed to notice how hard Johnnie worked to impress him.
"Come see me the day after tomorrow," Johnnie said to Rostiya. "I have to spend tomorrow getting ready for the ball, but we should have all of the day after to work on it."
Rostiya flicked a glance to Ontoniel, who nodded his permission, then said, "Of course. Thanks for the help, Johnnie."
Johnnie just gave him an annoyed look, clearly offended that he needed to be thanked for doing the obvious.
"Are you ready for the ball?" Ontoniel asked, neatly ending all talk of work.
"Looking forward to it," Rostislav said, proud that his voice gave no indication otherwise. "I was out of the country working for the last two. It will be nice to be home for a change." He'd rather shoot himself in the foot than attend, watch all the paranormals laugh and dance, energized by the start of a new year. There was always energy where there was renewal, and the turning of a year was always some of the most powerful. When the year turned might vary by culture and century, but there was always energy in it. "In fact, I should probably be on my way since work has kept me from getting ready for it myself."
He stood up and bowed to Ontoniel. "Thank you for the meal, my lord."
Ontoniel waved the words aside. "We look forward to seeing you tomorrow night."
"I'll walk out with you," Jesse said, rising and bowing to the Derosiers. "I have some errands to run. My lord, I will see you later tonight."
Nodding, dismissing them, Ontoniel turned to Johnnie and began discussing something they had clearly been talking about earlier.
Rostislav ignored Jesse as they left the restaurant—or at least did not speak to him. Truly ignoring Jesse was impossible when Rostislav was so painfully aware of everything about him: his scent, the way he moved, the way he was clearly dying to say something but holding back.
They stopped outside, and Rostislav braced for hearing he was a mistake, a threat to keep his mouth shut, or whatever was coming.
"Are we ever going to talk about it?" Jesse asked, gold eyes dark as he finally glared at Rostislav.
"What?" Rostislav stared. "What do you mean?" fingers twitching with an urge to reach up and touch the spot where his neck still ached, or the bruise on his hip that twinged whenever he moved. So unlike a vampire to leave marks, and that had only driven home to Rostislav how little Jesse really cared. "What is there to talk about? I assumed you wouldn't want there to be any talking. You had your fun, a snack, and then I went home."
Jesse's mouth tightened. "It wasn't—"
"Like that?" Rostislav said, returning the glare full measure. "We both know it was. I'm not completely stupid."
"It wasn't," Jesse repeated. "Do you think I make a habit of doing more with humans than feeding? That I would sleep with you of all people if I didn't—" He broke off as a crowd of vampires brushed by them to enter the restaurant.
The words—the lack of words, rather, in the face of other vampires, reminded Rostislav all over again why the discussion was a waste of time. "Me of all people?" he repeated, mouth twisting.
"Johnnie's friend—his best friend." Jesse laughed briefly, but it was a sour sound. "If I anger you, I anger him, I anger his father. Do you think that is something I would risk lightly? Not many Dracula would tolerate a non-noble like me with so much power and money in his territory. Why do you think most of us wind up living in non-vampire territories, or outside territory protection entirely? I like it here, and there are people who depend on me, normals and abnormals alike. Do you think I would risk all of that on some fling that didn't matter to me?"
"What's to risk, really, when playing with a human?" Rostislav retorted. "People might sneer at you for slumming it, but no vampire is going to choose to side with a human over a fellow vampire—even our Dracula, unless that human is Johnnie."
"If you really believe that, you're a damned fool."
"Whatever. I don't know what you're trying to tell me or why you're bothering, especially since you left marks and couldn't even bother to stay in bed."
Jesse's mouth tightened. "I had an early meeting, I texted you to say that."
"Text?" Rostislav asked, startled. "I didn't get any text."
"What?" Jesse pulled out his phone and pulled up his texts. "I'm an idiot," he said, and flipped the phone to Rostislav.
There it was, with an error it hadn't sent. Six-thirty meeting; free for breakfast at nine?
Rostislav scowled, suddenly at a loss. Jesse had wanted to have breakfast with him? Why? "What would breakfast have accomplished?"
"I don't know," Jesse said quietly. "I was hoping to find out, but you never replied and I assumed that meant you wanted nothing more to come of … us."
"There is no 'us'," Rostislav hissed, and then broke off again as another cluster of diners walked past them.
Because as much as he hated that Jesse would never risk anything for him, it was true that Rostislav stood to lose a lot as well. Nobody would trust or respect such a stupidly gullible, pathetic human. He'd go from being the Cursebreaker to a ridiculed outcast.
Jesse reached out and took his arm, pulled him away fro
m the restaurant. "Come back to my place so we can talk without all this." He waved a hand impatiently at the people milling about. "How do you know there's no us?"
Rostislav laughed. "You're joking, right? The fact we must go somewhere else to hold this conversation says it all. What do you want, Jesse?"
"For you to figure out I love you, too," Jesse snapped. "But it is clear you've already made up your mind on the matter, since you purposefully misconstrue everything I say and do. If you decide you want to talk, you know where to find me."
He was gone before Rostislav could reply, leaving him standing alone on the sidewalk.
I love you, too.
Whatever he had expected Jesse to say, that hadn't been it. How had Jesse figured out … had he been so caught up last night that he'd said without realizing? No, he would remember that, surely. Rostislav balled his hands into fists, and took several breaths until they stopped trembling. Unfolding his hands, he reached up to push his fingers beneath the collar of his suit, touching the sore, not quite bruised spot left by Jesse's mouth. He closed his eyes, remembering every husky word, every nip and bite and lick, the feel of Jesse moving beneath his hands, thrusting into him—
Rostislav swallowed, throat suddenly raw, his entire body coiled tight with want and longing, a deep ache unfurling inside that felt entirely too much like hope. Had Jesse meant it?
What did it matter, though? The moment their relationship was known, both their lives would be ruined—Jesse's far more than Rostislav's.
But did it have to be made known? Rostislav could handle being a secret if he was Jesse's secret …
And he did not know why he was standing there thinking about it, when he had always been willing to do something stupid where Jesse was concerned. The moment real hope had entered the picture—well, he was just stalling.
Rostislav nodded to himself, decision made, and—
Froze in surprise as his phone started ringing. He frowned at the number on the display, but accepted the call. "Hello?"
