“Glad to see you're awake, Detective,” the lady said while the tall kid loomed over her shoulder. The vampire could probably just knock Gage out with a good bonk on the head, but then, she was a nurse, so probably wouldn't stoop to that. “What's all the fuss?”
“The fuss?” He tried not to sound as snide as he felt. “Is that my partner was half-dead… undead…er… he's a vampire, and he was poisoned. He was supposed to be brought in by ambulance right before I…”
The nurse smiled, a surprisingly warm and comforting expression. “Fell down and vomited all over my nice ER floor?”
“Yeah. Sorry about that. Look, I need to know how he is. Please.”
She gave him a look that teetered on the edge of quoting patient privacy regulations, which made his gut clench even harder. He was fairly sure he was Jensen's only emergency contact, and Gage might have even signed something giving him power of attorney over Jen's death and un-death decisions or something, but he didn't have any proof either way. Luckily, the nurse decided to take pity on Gage and tell him what he so desperately needed to know.
“He's going to be fine. His body rejected the poison precisely the way it should have. He had a serious case of the bleeds, but once we set him up with replacement and infusion unit, he crashed like a drunken sailor.”
Interesting metaphor. Gage didn't want to think about the bleeds, even if it was a “healthy” response for a vampire. They oozed red goop out of pretty much every hole, pore, and opening in their bodies, looking like a scene out of a high-tech, extra gory remake of Carrie with seizures thrown in for good measure.
If he could have or dared to move, Gage would have kicked himself for not being there. He might have been yakking his own guts out all the way, but dammit, he would have held on to his partner's hand while they suffered together.
The nurse scowled at him, either able to read his thoughts, or just his expression. You could never tell with vampires. “You couldn't have helped, and frankly, you're not in much better condition. Blood loss, some lingering effects of the poison, general cuts and bruises from the fight. And you lost a bit of skin from acid burns. They're minor injuries in the larger scheme of things, but they needed attention. Your partner was unconscious and specially sedated, so he didn't suffer. Stop worrying.”
Oh, and while he was at it, Gage could stop breathing, too. “Thank you, Nurse…”
“Call me Jessica. You know, you and your partner are very brave, very lucky, and very stupid. That combination tends to signify good cops for some reason. If you took out Mereg Demons, you've done a huge service to the city, if not a smart one. I'd like to thank you—and still wish that you'd be more careful in the future.”
She started to rise, but he grabbed her arm. Her skin had that cool, silken texture common to vampires, but after knowing Jen for so long, he found it more sexy than creepy. Even on a lady. “When can I see Je— Detective Holm?”
Nurse Jessica gave him a wink as she slid back the curtain to his right, revealing Jensen propped up on his own gurney, hooked to a machine that looked like something straight out of Frankenstein's lab. Gage recognized the replacement and infusion unit she had mentioned. Since vampires' circulation was so slow and unpredictable, especially when they were unconscious, vampire scientists had created a hybrid machine that combined the best of IV's, ventilators, and by-pass units able to force needed whole blood and medications into the vampire's tissues to assist whatever recovery was necessary.
It was a nasty-looking contraption, and combined with Jen's absolute stillness, weird pallor, and the damp sheen on his skin, Gage's stomach lurched with a whole new wave of fear and guilt. He couldn't drag his eyes away.
Nurse Jessica patted his hand. “He will be okay. And so will you,” She promised, and stepped out of the cubicle, closing the curtain so Gage and Jen were closed in their own little beeping, slurping, clinking world.
“You better goddamn well be okay, or I’ll throw you in a woodchipper,” he grumbled, then added, “asshole goddamn hero,” just for good measure. He so rarely got to use “The Lord’s” name in vain around his church-going vampire partner, he might as well take advantage.
§ § §
Gage could have sworn he only blinked, but when he opened his eyes, he was staring straight at the pleasant bulge in the crotch of Jensen’s very expensive, completely ruined jeans. He blinked again, forcing his weary gaze upward until he found his partner looking down at him, concern shadowing his green eyes. He looked slightly more corpse-like than usual, with that profoundly pale, blue-tinged skin, but his “normal” tone was starting to return as he flushed with new, clean blood.
“Nice to see you’re not deader,” Gage said, surprised to hear his voice come out in a dry rasp. Jensen pulled up a chair and poured water from a pitcher into a cup with a straw in it, then held it for his partner to take a sip.
“I think ‘more dead’ is the grammatically correct term. I’m all right. I’m more worried about you, although I have to return the sentiment about relative degrees of living. You seem to have held on to your usual one.”
Gage nodded and let go of the straw. Too much water would just get him barfing all over again, and nobody needed that right now. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I was… Jesus, I was more concerned about the goddamn car.”
Jensen gave him a half-hearted glare of reprimand even as he reached over to rest a hand on Gage’s forearm, the only place that didn’t seem to be stuck full of needles at the moment. “I’d be more concerned if you weren’t upset about that ridiculous gas hog. And don’t forget, God’s probably the only reason both of us aren’t the kind of dead that sticks. Don’t blame this on Him.”
Oy with the vampire religion. Gage was never even clear which God it was that Jensen believed in so fiercely—could the standard Judeo Christian one really be all up-with-the-undead? Wasn’t that only supposed to be his Son’s trick? Gage didn’t ask. Not his business.
“Right, sorry. Don’t mean to be offensive while I’m lying in an emergency room hopped up on all kinds of… I don’t even know what they gave me.”
Jensen got up and looked at the computerized record on the portable computer at the foot of the bed. He might be violating about a hundred privacy laws, but Jen wouldn’t worry about that. When it came to things he cared about, his morality could get as flexible as he felt necessary. He was also the best hacker Gage had ever heard of on this side of the law.
“Wow, they really did pump you full of stuff. Something to counteract the Mereg poison, the vampire blood, a painkiller, transfusion, a massive iron supplement… there’s medication here I don’t even recognize.”
“Goodie. So are they going to send me home with a freaking pharmacy?”
Jensen reclaimed his seat and Gage’s arm. “It doesn’t look like it. The doctor recommends a few days’ rest, lots of red meat and spinach, but that’s about it. You’re practically a miracle.”
Gage went all gooey inside and turned his arm over to claim the long, cool fingers of Jensen’s hand, giving them a squeeze. “It was you who put himself on the line to save my ass. Or I guess…neck.”
Jensen looked away. “Yeah. About that. When you’re feeling better, we should, uh… we’ll need to talk about any, um… lingering effects you might have.”
Oh for Chrissake. It wasn’t like they’d been making love in the alley when Jen bit him. Although that idea held a whole lot more appeal than it might once have, before he’d had a sampling of it. If that was a lingering effect, then he didn’t want to talk about it, he just wanted to feel it again. Along with other things.
“We don’t need to talk about anything, Dr. Phil. I’m good. You did what you had to do. I’ll deal. End chick flick.”
“Don’t be stupid. A vampire bite can be… unnerving for survivors.”
It was all Gage could do not to roll his eyes. Drama Queen Vampire Cop. Just what the world needed… and just exactly the man he loved.
“I do take it seriously. But not bec
ause I’m freaked out or afraid I’ll turn into a fang-junkie,” he said.
“That’s not what I’m worried about either. The fact is, being bitten, whether you’re treated or not, whatever the circumstances, it has… repercussions. Heightened senses. Hunger. Thirst. Sexual desire. I just don’t want any unusual, uh…attraction you might feel toward me to make you uncomfortable.”
“Attraction to… uncomfortable?” he stuttered. Really? Sure, Gage hadn’t exactly sang Jen love songs or fallen to his knees spouting sonnets or anything, but he didn’t think his affection and desire for him were exactly secrets either. Gage wasn’t really much of a closet kind of guy.
Or maybe this was Jensen’s way of letting him down easy. Maybe he didn’t want to cross that line any further than life or death circumstances had forced him to do tonight. Gage knew Jensen’s sexuality—as with most vampires—was pretty flexible, so it wasn’t a straight/gay thing. Maybe it was just Gage.
Shit.
Jensen shrugged it off, removing his hand from Gage’s with a friendly pat. “Look, we’re on medical leave until next week, department orders. You’re coming to my place out in Weatherfield to get some real rest, completely out of this dump.”
“Hey, this dump is my home, Bunnicula. And you’re beat. Just because you have more money than Bill Gates and don’t have to live here doesn’t make you better than anybody else.”
“Don’t get snippy, Gage. And don’t try to tell me that you’re not aching to get the stink of sewer dwellers, wet werewolf, and blood out of your nose for a minute. You need the rest. I need the break. So when they release you, you can come voluntarily, or I’ll have pretty Nurse Jessica hold you down while I hypnotize you into submission. Deal?”
Gage tried not to scowl. There was no arguing with a century-plus-year-old vampire on a tear. Besides, since it was Jen who had saved him to begin with, the least he figured he could do was give in to a prescription that in the end wouldn’t bother him at all; spending time with his best friend and… whatever, if anything, else.
“Fine. But I’m not watching those fruity-ass reality shows you love so goddamn much. I have to draw the line somewhere.”
“Language, Roberts. All right, nothing but porn and wrestling it is.”
He beamed up at his partner. “And beer? And pizza? And those chips with the chili pepper you buy at the Spanish grocery?”
Jensen rolled his eyes. “No. You’re on high iron and health rations until you’re back on your feet.”
“Aw,” Gage pouted, fluttering his eyelashes.
“And you call me a girl.”
§ § §
Jensen’s country house was actually a beautiful beach retreat, all covered wrap-around porches and huge windows. It was a vintage place, with weathered wood and old-fashioned New England shore design raised up on storm pillars against the fury of the Atlantic during hurricane season.
While Jensen owned a large, private chunk of land with trees surrounding three sides and a secluded rock wall-lined beach at the back, he didn’t mind his neighbors coming there for a swim or to walk their dogs. While Gage was a city boy at heart, he had to admit that the vampire’s ironically sunny oceanfront property was a little piece of Heaven right here on the east coast. His body relaxed of its own accord as Jensen pulled his wussy little hybrid into the driveway.
Pretty or no, the ocean air was hell on a custom car, and Gage would rather pay a month’s salary for extra garage time in the city than expose his baby to the salt and wind. Normally he wouldn’t get caught dead or alive in Jensen’s fruity “I have to be frugal if I’m going to live forever” Prius, but considering Gage’s head still spun a bit every time he stood up or otherwise moved too fast, he figured he’d give in to the vampire’s nagging, and pretend he was riding in a Formula 1 race car or something.
He let Jen carry his duffle into the house, but he refused his partner’s offer of physical help to climb the ramp. Gage could gimp and shuffle up the damn thing all by himself, thank you very much. He was trying to convince himself this was a vacation, a chance to see what if anything might happen next between him and Jen, not a mandatory medical rest break.
He’d also rather think that what happened in the alley the other night had been about desire, not desperation, but he couldn’t get his way on that front either. Things were what they were, and denial was just a patina he painted on unpleasant things to help him slide through without turning into a completely bitter asshole or swallowing his Glock.
It took forever, but they finally made it into the house. The eclectic decorating style managed to be froofy, masculine, and comfortable all at the same time. Gage was a “futon and crate” guy from way back. He knew jack about the chatchkes and art all over the place, but he knew expensive when he saw it. He also knew worthless stuff that was probably sentimental. Both were in evidence.
Jensen Holm had been all over the world in his hundred-twenty-ish years, setting out from his family’s home in the west when he became a vampire to “go everywhere and see everything,” until he’d “had enough of that kind of life” and come back to the States, setting down on the opposite coast from where he was born. There was a lot of detail he never shared when it came to those years in between.
Gage was pretty sure there was a lot of it he really wouldn’t want to know.
But here in his partner’s house, with everything from a bull steer skull to a shining Middle Eastern scimitar, art pieces from at least a dozen artistic styles, and small folk crafts to elaborate marble statues, he could see more intimate hints of the complicated vampire he’d worked with so closely over the last six months.
“Why don’t you make yourself comfortable while I put the groceries away? You want some tea?”
His continued exhaustion left Gage without much choice in the matter, so he took a seat in the deepest, softest leather couch he’d ever sunk into. Damn, this was a nap trap. He looked around the little conversation area with its free-standing fireplace at the center, and decided none of the other furniture was going to help him stay awake either. Squishy sleep couch it was.
“Tea? Seriously?” he complained.
Jensen gave him the same bland, “mind me or I’ll knock you out” look he’d been using since they left the hospital. He was better at henpecking than Gage’s mom had ever imagined being.
“Fine. Tea. Can you at least put some liquor in it?”
“Whiskey or brandy?”
That was a shocker. “Really? You’re going to give me hooch?”
“My folks believed in a good dose of medicinal alcohol, and I’ve never seen it go wrong when used within reason. You’re off your pain meds, so I don’t see why you can’t have a nip with your constitutional tea.”
Wait, that didn’t sound good. “What’s the difference between tea-tea and ‘constitutional’ tea? Is this a vampire thing?”
“There’s no blood in it, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Gage felt himself flush, remembering in a vivid flash the sensation of being in his partner’s arms, fangs tearing him open, blood rushing into Jensen’s mouth. The greedy, sensual sounds of drinking, an exchange of life force and death in one.
He just grumbled non-committedly and sipped at the tea when Jensen handed to him. Predictably, it tasted like horseshit—with really good Irish whiskey in it. He gulped it down, because more nagging from his freaking immortal nurse just wasn’t on his agenda right now.
Drowsiness washed over him in increasing waves before he’d taken the last mouthful. Not natural “I think I’ll take a nap in this over-stuffed sofa” waves, either.
“You… fucker,” he said as he toppled into his partner’s arms.
“You need rest, and I am a vampire. It’s my prerogative to be amoral if I want to.” Gage heard from what felt like a long, long distance.
§ § §
When Gage woke, he was in a strange bed in a pitch dark room. He might have freaked out, but the thread count of the sheets and the perfect suppor
t of the mattress beneath him reminded him in no uncertain terms that this was Jensen's house. His partner's room was about ten steps up the design ladder from his own studio shitbox in Undertown.
This sliding in and out of consciousness crap was starting to get on his nerves. He'd rather be awake and aching like crazy than dropping like a fainting auntie every five minutes.
Even so, he couldn't deny that he felt better than he had since the night of the attack. Muscles that had been freeze-dried string cheese seemed like they might actually function if he demanded it, his mind felt clear and sharp… and his dick was hard as a steel girder. Great. A relief, yes, but maybe not convenient under the circumstances.
To distract himself from hunger, desire, thirst, and curiosity, he tried to let his eyes focus on whatever details of the room he might be able to discern when the only light was a dim digital clock on a nightstand. Not exactly the kind of ambient light that would illuminate much of his surroundings. Gage's cop instincts didn't fail him, though, and all the small hairs on his body stood at attention, an alarm he'd learn to listen to very carefully when working and living in Undertown, where things you might not want to tangle with could be silent and invisible.
He wasn't alone.
If he hadn't been in what was arguably the safest place in the universe—the lair of a friendly but paranoid vampire—he would have been scrambling for his gun or anything else he could use as a weapon, however impotent. But he was in Jensen's nigh-impregnable house, and there was only one other being that could be taking up space in the room, and be that perfectly silent and still.
Gage focused hard to his right from where the presence emanated, and could make out the bare outline of his partner's long, muscular frame slumped in a chair, head propped up on a fist against the left armrest. The daysleep was an absolute for a vampire. They literally turned into limp dead weight. Didn't move a bit, from a few hours after full sunrise until an hour or so before sunset, unless there was such a dire threat to their physical well-being that it penetrated to their subconscious through the wall of their preternatural rest. Gage could only imagine how uncomfortable it must be to sleep that deeply in a chair.
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