by Aimer Boyz
“So cute.”
“Bite me.”
“Ah, Symon?” Andrew asked, giving Symon his best choir boy smile. “Your human is showing. Just saying.”
“Don’t.” Symon allowed his power to rise, stared his fledgling down. Perched on his prey’s knee or standing on his own two feet, dressed in leather or a wearing a silk slip, Symon was a formidable force and his fledgling needed to remember that because Symon didn’t want to think about what would happen to the redhead if he smart-assed a blood drinker with no sense of humour. Etienne would never forgive him if anything happened to Andrew. Symon would never forgive himself.
“Sorry,” Andrew said, dropping his eyes.
“Shit. He really is your son. Let me up,” Michael said, tapping Symon’s knee.
Symon slid off Michael’s lap, took the chair he vacated, and Michael sat on the coffee table facing Etienne and Andrew. “Look, Symon couldn’t say anything because he promised to keep my secret, but I don’t want my crap damaging your relationship. Symon didn’t change the rules. He didn’t tell me he was Vampire, but I knew. I knew because,” Michael said, looking down at his hands, and taking a breath before pushing out the words he didn’t want to say. “I read his mind.”
Etienne examined Michael as if his face was a litmus test for truth, but Andrew didn’t have that kind of patience. “Seriously? You expect us to believe…?” He flicked a glance at Symon, read the confirmation on his face. “No.”
Symon nodded. “Surprised the shit out of me too.”
“That’s impossible," Andrew said.
“I’m sitting in a room with three vampires,” Michael said. “You want to talk impossible?”
“Okay, yeah, but mind reading?”
Michael shrugged. Etienne frowned at Symon. “You allowed him to keep that knowledge?”
“Yeah, why is he still walking around knowing about us?” Andrew asked his sire, adding an aside to Michael, “Sorry, but you’re not supposed to know we exist.”
“I tried,” Symon said. “But it didn’t take.”
“What do you mean, ‘it didn’t take’?” Andrew demanded while Etienne studied Symon before asking, “You could not influence him?”
“Nope. I told him to forget,” Symon said, smiling at the memory. “And he fucking ignored me.”
“His mind must have been clouded,” Etienne said. “Medication, drugs?”
“Still here, guys,” Michael said, waving his hand in the air. Symon sent him a quick grin, but the other two vampires ignored him.
“No,” Symon said. “No drugs, no alcohol, no brain tumours or psychosis I could sense.”
“Uh, thanks?” Michael muttered, but no one was listening to him.
“He heard the command, but he blocked it somehow.”
One midnight dark, one sun-lit green, two sets of eyes focused on Michael. Symon saw Michael’s shoulders tense, heard his heart trip over itself, but his human didn’t back away from the vampires sitting across from him. Michael’s jaw firmed, his chin tilting up a fraction, and Symon had to smile. He knew that look.
Etienne stared at Michael as if he wanted to see through to his soul. “You might want to keep this one,” he said to Symon.
“What? Like locked up in chains so I won’t tell anyone?” Michael asked, glancing over at Symon. “Nice kids you’ve got here.”
Symon grinned. “I like them.”
Andrew had been quiet, following the conversation between the others, but now he plunked himself down on the coffee table next to Michael. “Prove it.”
“Prove what?”
“Read my mind.” Andrew closed his eyes for a whole three seconds and popped them open again. “What’s the problem, ESP offline?” he asked, taunting Michael. “I can’t believe you bought into this shit,” he added, this addressed to Symon.
“It’s not that easy,” Michael said. “I sense things sometimes, but with Symon it’s—
“Right,” Andrew scoffed. “You can only read Symon’s mind. Colour me surprised.”
Symon got that Andrew was having trouble with this. He’d thought it was total bullshit too, but the proof is in the pudding.
“Prey,” Symon said, standing and motioning Michael to him.
Michael pushed himself off the coffee table, stopped in front of Symon. “You called, Fido?” he asked, all dimple.
The reference to Bram Stoker’s Dracula dragged a smile onto Symon’s face. “Pretty sure Renfield said, ‘You called, Master?’”
Michael grinned. “It’s an old movie.”
Symon chose a specific memory to validate Michael’s intermittent talent, Etienne’s birthday last summer. He’d walked in on Etienne fucking Andrew over the railing of their balcony. That image in mind, Symon set his hand at the back of Michael’s neck. “Tell them.”
Michael focused, the intensity palpable in the air around them, his pupils swallowing the colour in his eyes until only a thin edge of grey remained. He pulled away, blush staining his cheeks. “Uh, no, I don’t think so.”
Symon laughed. “You don’t have to describe the whole thing, they were there, they know. Just tell them what I said.”
Michael turned to find himself skewered by two pairs of eyes. “Symon was at your condo. Last summer, it was Etienne’s birthday.”
Andrew’s eyes jumped to Etienne’s. “Asshole,” he said, aiming the word at Symon.
“You’re the one who wanted proof. Go on, Michael.”
“Symon opened the French doors onto the balcony and,” Michael hesitated, obviously uncomfortable dredging up such a personal memory. “He said, ‘You want to try that again? I don’t think they heard you in Manitoba.’ Sorry.”
“He didn’t just give you the bit about coming through the doors, did he?” Andrew asked. Michael didn’t say anything which was all the answer Andrew needed. “You are such a douche,” he said to his sire.
“That was impressive,” Etienne admitted, interrupting whatever Symon’s response might have been. “But you could have told Michael that story at any time during the past week.”
Symon saw red. Literally. His fangs descended and his eyes bled to flame. “You think I’m lying to you?”
“No, I do not. I think you chose the wrong memory.” Etienne stood, crossed the metre of space between them. “May I?”
Symon sheathed his fangs, looked into Etienne’s eyes, and let the man walk into his mind.
Chapter 11
IT WASN’T EASY. Yes, Etienne’s mind touch was as familiar as his own heartbeat, but this was outside their usual norm. Over their years together, Symon had often invited Etienne into specific memories, allowing them to be read like diary entries, but he’d never granted him free access. Never permitted Etienne, or anyone else, to wander his mind at will and he wouldn’t be doing it again anytime soon. Mental barriers were meant to be walls, thick stone walls, not fucking draw bridges to be lowered because of a pair of smoke grey eyes, a sinful mouth, and legs that wrapped around Symon like they’d never let go.
“Nice,” Michael muttered, watching Etienne and Symon from the couch. “You guys read minds, but I’m full of shit?”
“It’s not mind reading,” Andrew said, all his attention on his partner.
“Oh, my bad, I thought Etienne was riffling through Symon’s memories.”
“That’s not—” Etienne ended the mental tete-a-tete, stepping back from Symon, and studying him in silence.
“Well?” Andrew prompted.
“It is true. Michael took the information from Symon’s mind,” Etienne said. “It is different with Michael, is it not?” he asked Symon, a hint of a smile tugging at his mouth. A smile that said he knew something Symon didn’t.
Jesus fucking Christ, Symon thought, pulling up the drawbridge and fortifying the walls, hoping it wasn’t too late, hoping Etienne hadn’t stumbled across a truth Symon kept hidden, even from himself. Especially from himself.
“You do not feel invaded when Michael walks your mind,” Etienne adde
d, and Symon felt free to breathe again because Etienne was talking about the psychic shit. He wasn’t talking about what Symon felt, or didn’t feel, or didn’t want to feel for Michael.
“Invaded? No,” Symon said. He felt trapped, helplessly caught in the grey-ringed black depths of Michael’s eyes, but he wasn’t telling Etienne that. “I didn’t even know he’d been inside my head the first time he pulled that Voodoo crap on me.”
“The first time?” Andrew repeated, convicting Michael without judge or jury.
“Hey, I didn’t know that was going to happen,” Michael protested.
Symon believed him, but that didn’t alter the fact that Michael had snuck inside his head that first night, twice, and he’d been oblivious. Accident or not, Symon wasn’t okay with Michael’s ability to prance through his mind whenever he fucking felt like it. Not even close.
Etienne reclaimed his seat on the couch, made the same request of Michael he had made of Symon. “May I?”
At Michael’s nod, Etienne placed his hand at the nape of Michael’s neck. Their combined heartbeats echoed in the silence. Two beats, three, Michael shook his head and Etienne withdrew his hand. “Nothing?”
“I can tell you’re concerned for Symon, but that’s it. I can’t get inside your head. The Vulcan Mind Meld stuff, that’s not me. Like I told Symon,” Michael said, glancing over at Symon, sending him a flash of dimple. “I’m the dim bulb in the family chandelier.”
Etienne tried to puzzle out that last bit of incoherency, but Andrew didn’t bother. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“I’m the youngest,” Michael said. “I think they were running low on ESP by the time I came around.”
“Are you saying that your family is psychic?” The financial planner in Etienne liked everything clear, concise, and preferably signed.
“Except for my father, yeah. It comes down from my mother’s side of the family.”
Back in his chair, Symon stretched his legs out in front of him, crossed one motorcycle boot over the other. “Seventh son of a seventh son.”
“Pardon? What?” Etienne and Andrew asked, one voice on top of the other.
“They know about us, vampires I mean,” Symon said, enjoying himself. Andrew was a baby, he didn’t count, but it wasn’t often he got to surprise Etienne. “Quite the family, our Michael has.”
Our? Ah, shit.
Andrew, caught up in the fact that Michael’s family knew more than they should, was oblivious to Symon’s little Freudian slip, but Etienne’s brows tried to touch his hairline. Symon recognized the assessing look in his eyes, the one that said he was connecting the dots, drawing conclusions Symon didn’t want drawn.
“Yes,” Michael said, pulling Symon’s attention away from a too perceptive Etienne. “My family’s amazing,” he declared, tilted chin daring Symon to say otherwise.
“Check your daggers at the door, Prey. I never said they weren’t.”
“Uh-huh.” Michael didn’t look convinced, but he let it go, turning to Etienne and Andrew. “Symon’s screwing with you. I’m the only one who knows about this,” he said, indicating the three vampires.
“What about that story you—?” Symon asked.
“The story I told you in confidence?” Michael rounded on Symon. “Any other private details you want to share? Obviously, you—”
Andrew laughed, the sound breaking into their incipient argument, and Symon remembered that he and Michael weren’t the only ones in the room. “What?”
“It is nothing, mon ami,” Etienne said, laughter vibrating in his voice.
“Yeah, nothing,” Andrew agreed, green eyes lit with amusement.
“What are you two doing here, anyway?” Symon asked. “I know I didn’t invite you.”
“Andrew and I make it a point to visit Niagara Falls during the Winter Festival of Lights every year,” Etienne said, his voice the silken thing it became when he lied through his fangs. “It is one of the few festivals we can attend, given that most are held on long summer days when the sun governs the sky.”
Nicely done, Symon thought. That little aside to Michael was a master stroke. A lie always sounded better when mixed with the truth.
“We thought you might like to accompany us,” Etienne suggested, his smile extending the invitation to both Symon and Michael. “If you have no other plans?”
Symon opened his link to Etienne.
You are so full of shit.
Tell me you don’t want to walk the night with Michael at your side.
Jesus. Who are you, Gay Cupid dot com?
That is not a no, mon ami.
“There, right there,” Michael said to Andrew, pointing at Symon and Etienne. “You want to tell me again how that isn’t mind reading?”
“You can hear us?” Symon asked, really fucking hoping he couldn’t.
“No, but you don’t do soulful gazes so I’m guessing you’re talking to each other. Which is rude, by the way.”
“Yeah. No manners, these two,” Andrew said, echoing Michael’s complaint. “Talking between themselves as if we’re not even here.”
“I apologize, Little One,” Etienne said, rubbing his thumb across the redhead’s knuckles. “I did not know it bothered you.”
“It’s not a big deal,” Andrew answered, linking his fingers with Etienne’s. “Symon’s not around much.”
Symon didn’t apologize. He didn’t have to worry about Andrew’s hurt feelings, that was Etienne’s job. He was more interested in the fact that Michael had seen the mind speak for what it was. He’d never known a human to leap to that conclusion. “You sure you weren’t eavesdropping?”
“Paranoid much?” Michael teased, dimple flashing.
The man should be quarantined, Symon thought, because that smile was contagious. Obviously, already infected, he smiled back. “Little bit, yeah.”
Michael laughed. “Nah, it only works when you’re touching me.”
“Good to know,” Symon said, dropping his eyes to Michael’s groin.
“Yeah,” Michael said, glancing down at himself. “That too.”
Symon didn’t have to look to know that Etienne and Andrew were taking in every word, watching them like they had centre seats at a playoff game. “You can leave anytime, now. Lights to see, people to drink.”
Andrew’s eyes slid to Michael, and Symon had to fight to keep his fangs tucked away. “Don’t even think about it.”
Andrew gave Symon little boy starved eyes. “Just a taste?”
“Yeah, funny,” Michael said. “Stop talking about me like I’m a side of fries.”
Andrew laughed. “Don’t worry, I know better than to take anything off Symon’s plate.”
“Yeah, not making me feel any better,” Michael said, but he didn’t sound all that worried.
“Please, join us,” Etienne said, getting to his feet, Andrew hoping off the coffee table to stand beside him. “We would be happy to have the company.”
“We can stop by the casino later,” Andrew said. “They have a slot machine called Vampire’s Embrace.”
One look at Michael’s face and Symon knew he wanted to go. “You still driving that sardine can?” he asked Etienne, hauling himself out of his chair.
“Yes,” Etienne said, retrieving his coat and Andrew’s from the closet. “Andrew has become attached to it.”
“My car then,” Symon said, shrugging into his jacket, and tossing Michael’s parka at him.
“Etienne’s car drives like a dream,” Andrew said to Michael, taking the coat Etienne held out to him. “Accelerates at a thought.”
“And he would know,” Etienne said, pulling on his own coat. “He drives it more than I do.”
“Because your car likes me better than you,” Andrew said, following the other three out of the suite, and closing the door behind them. “Etienne wants to trade Black Beauty in for a newer model, but nope, not happening.”
“Black Beauty, unbelievable,” Symon said to Etienne, as they took the lead,
walking ahead of the younger men. “Just when I think he’s becoming a true lord of the night, he opens his mouth, and human falls out. You were annoying as shit for decades, but even you weren’t this bad.”
“It is something of a defect in my personality, I know,” Etienne said, leaning a shoulder into one of the doors guarding the staircase. “But I like the human in him. Also, his bite is—”
“Keep your depravity to yourself,” Symon said, starting down the staircase, Etienne at his side.
“Thanks, Dracula,” Andrew called down to his partner, several steps below him.
“Dracula?” Michael asked, taking the stairs alongside Andrew.
“Perfect, right? With that dark hair and eyes, and the all black wardrobe?”
“I wear colour,” Etienne protested, turning to look back at Andrew.
“Yeah,” Andrew said, rolling his eyes. “When he’s feeling all badass, he wears grey.”
Chapter 12
LOCATED OPPOSITE THE Horseshoe Falls, Queen Victoria Park was the heart of the Winter Festival of Lights. From mid-November to mid-January, the park played host to illuminated Christmas trees, reindeer, and angels. Together with a crowd of humans, Symon and Michael, Etienne and Andrew, wandered amid the winter dark paths, stopping to watch a Sound and Light Show. Splashed across the façade of the Oakes Hotel, the high-tech display told the mythical story of the birth of the falls and ended with the inevitable plug for the Fallsview casino.
“The serpent bursting off the wall,” Andrew said, linking arms with Etienne, as they continued their ramble through the illuminated park. “Loved that bit.”
“The sound effects, you could hear the ice cracking,” Michael said, threading his fingers through Symon’s. “That was impressive.”
“You boys lost?” The taunting question was directed at them, of course. It was never a good sign when strangers addressed you as boy.
“Merde,” Etienne muttered, as five humans, not one of them a night over twenty, swaggered towards them.
